#visage { what is a place like me doing in a girl like this }

[archeolcgist]

I'd be the voice that urged Orpheus When her body was found (hey ya) I'd be the choiceless hope in grief That drove him underground (hey ya) I'd be the dreadful need in the devotee That made him turn around (hey ya) And I'd be the immediate forgiveness In Eurydice Imagine being loved by me! I won't deny I've got in my mind now all the things we'd do So I'll try to talk refined for fear that you find out how I'm imaginin' you

[disasteregyptologist]

endless edits / rick & evy 2/? - mutuals may reblog

[princessbrunette]

NEVER LOSE ME ♡

♪ flo milli — never lose me ♪

TELL ME YOU DONT NEVER WANNA LOSE ME!

pairing: rafe cameron + bunny!reader જ⁀➴₊⊹ ♡

synopsis: being in a relationship with rafe, things are always easy on you and your bunny brain. until they’re not.

cw: butt stuff, violence, blood, alcohol mentions, reader is kind of a bimbo, kind of dumbification? mean!rafe, canon spoilers, shoupe, criminal activity, manipulation/threats, slut shaming, mentions of drugs. the ‘dad’ nickname and daddy kink ♡

Your vanity table was your place of peace.

Pink powder puffs and abused beauty blenders. Shimmery MAC gloss. That one blush pallette with the rabbit engraving that was too pretty to use. When you were sat at that table, everything was okay. You were in girl world, with glitter particles floating like fairies in the air around you and that one lipstick swatch on the back of your hand. It was easy to lose time, there were just so many important decisions to make. What lipliner with what gloss? Are you doing glitter in your inner corners today or not? Probably yes, there was never a wrong time for glitter. However it was only the country club you were visiting, and you were meant to be there twenty-five minutes ago. Being a girl is hard.

The country club was where you and Rafe had locked eyes for the first time. You remember it so clearly, not so much like a fairytale but more so like a sexy 2000s movie where the hot people end up together. You were new to the neighbourhood, a pretty young thing wandering into the Kook club with nothing but a shoulder bag and a skirt that clung to your ass cheeks.

Rafe did a double take when he first saw you, the sort they do in cartoons. You were the first girl he’d seen that dressed skimpy and yet still looked expensive, all dressed in virginal white with endless amounts of skin on display. He’d licked his lips, squinting across the golf course as he aimlessly swung his club in circles, tuning out of whatever-the-fuck it was Topper was complaining about this week. At first, for a few seconds anyway — he didn’t know if he wanted you or hated you for walking in here looking like that, knowing you’d be the talk of the town and the visage behind every guy at the country clubs wet dreams. You’d looked back at him and nervously bit at your manicured finger nail, offering a demure smile. There was something unsure and innocent about you, which confirmed how he felt — if his dick jumping in his pants wasn’t enough. He had to have you.

He vowed to get to know you, force his way into your life — and that’s exactly what he did. He would have felt like a creep, eyeing you from across the bar and asking everyone he could what they knew about the new girl — if you didn’t make it so apparent you were doing the same. You made friends quickly with that bubbly, ditsy, happy-go-lucky attitude of yours— and were soon to sit at the tables outside overlooking the golf course in clusters, whispering through cupped palms and giggles when Rafe and his crew would pass by. He’d act all nonchalant at first, but as he chews at his gum obnoxiously, he couldn’t stop the smirk from curling his lips up. Even his friends would shove at his shoulders excitably. This shit is so high school, he’d think. It was time to make a move.

And so he did — he made sure everyone saw too. Pulling up in his truck out the front of the club, graciously turning down the Future song booming from the speakers to wind his window down and lean out of it with that million-dollar Cameron-man smile. “You leavin’ here by yourself? Look, let me drive you, ‘kay? Been meaning to talk to you anyway, beautiful.”

He’d made sure everyone saw you climbing into the passenger seat of his car. Rafe and the new girl. If Rafe had swooped on her, she was pretty much off the market. Word spread fast, and you were his before he’d even asked you to be. Things took off fast, and with Rafes status came your own. You were untouchable, unpunishable, Kildares sweetheart. A mystery to some. Where did she come from? Is it true X tried to take a shot at her? Everyone knows she’s Rafe Cameron’s girl.

The rest is history — dates, excessive spoiling, meeting The famous Ward Cameron, Rafe breaking that virgin cunt in the same night. Things moved at the perfect pace and you couldn’t be happier. Rafe just made life so easy for you, to the point where around him — you were completely on auto pilot, letting your boyfriend do all the thinking. You figured that’s where you earned your nickname and likeness. A bunny, he’d always compare you to.

Whilst you had this Marylin Monroe sort of allure about you that never failed to draw him in, you were wide eyed and innocent like a bunny rabbit. That, and the way you bounced on his cock, and lest he forget the way your nose twitches when you’re upset. Those were recognised as bunny-like tendencies, so for Rafe — the designer shoe just seemed to fit. You sigh, reminiscing on when Rafe had pushed that bunny tail plug into your ass for the first time as you walk through the gates to the County club. Clearly, you were in a mood today.

“People are lookin’ at me.” You giggle with your cheek to his chest once you find him, careful not to smear your blush on the delicate fabric of his polo once more.

“Maybe it’s ‘cos they can practically see your tail stickin’ out the bottom of your skirt. Pull that shit down, would you?” He complains, but does it for you all the same— ringed hands sliding round down your ass to yank the material down enough for him to be satisfied. You let him, enjoying the feeling of his coarse hands on you— knowing the material was only due to slide right back up as soon as you take a few steps.

The sun burns bright that day, and as Topper approaches the two of you on the grassy hill of the golf course— he holds his golfing glove above his eyes as a makeshift protection from the sun. He wears that expression that’s 90% teeth, smiling as he slides over. “And will I be seeing this lovely lady at the party down at Crystals tonight?”

“A party?” Your back straightens in excitement, neck craning to look up at your boyfriend, who’s jaw tightened at his friend.

“I’m there on business, remember Top?” He blinks a couple of times like he was trying to send a message telepathically, and Toppers face falls a little. Your boyfriend looks to your hopeful expression, sighing a little exasperatedly. “Gonna be there for like an hour. Max. Just pushin’ product, baby. Shits boring.” He waves you off and your brows furrow, following him when he peels away to line up his ball.

“But I like parties! What product Rafey?” You mewl, laying a gentle hand on his playing arm, making him briefly stuff his tongue between his lips to concentrate extra hard. He looks around for listeners before turning his attention back to you.

“Got some yayo on me. ‘Kay? Gonna make us a shit tonne of money.”

You furrow your brows. You couldn’t remember which drug ‘yayo’ was, and you wasn’t even aware of the fact he was selling again. He said he was stopping all that, but as he constantly drilled into your head — you supposed Rafe knew best. It wasn’t your business, and wasn’t anything you had to worry about. Truthfully, you cared more about putting together an outfit to wear to the mentioned party in question.

“Can I still come? I wanna come.” You bounce on your glittery sandals with a ditsy smile, the action making your tits jostle in your little top. Perhaps that was what convinced him, the boy squinting thoughtfully out across the golf course.

“Aaah…” He stresses quietly, lifting his arm to scratch the clammy skin of his forehead beneath his floppy bangs.

“Please dad, won’t get in the way.” You pout, standing on your tiptoes pleadingly. Topper coughs awkwardly at the nickname, still standing near by, rifling through his clubs. Rafe licks his lips before rolling his eyes.

“Alright, okay. But no gettin’ involved, a’ight? Got a little chatty with my customers last time. No more of that, got it?” He warns, throwing you a look over his shoulder as he begins to stance up, gesturing for you to move back so he wouldn’t hit you with his club.

Truthfully, Rafe didn’t like bringing you to parties. As much as he loved parading you around, he knew what he was like — and seeing tens of guys ogling what rightfully belonged to him got tiring. Especially when you were so oblivious, bouncing around pool parties with your tits nearly escaping your bikini, or dancing with your friends to the point of your skirt flipping up — giving everyone a show. He knows you didn’t mean it, you were ditsy as it was so with alcohol added you were a complete loose cannon. However, with each sip he’d take— his rage would only grow, always having to deal with your pouting when he’d make the two of you leave early so he didn’t pummel someone’s face in.

Plus, he was trying to mature now. Step into his father’s shoes. He didn’t even like partying at all the way he used to— it was strictly business now. An in and out job. Was harder to do that with you there.

You always forgot how well loved Rafe Cameron was until he brings you along to a function. His hand staying glued to the small of your back as he walks you through, heads turning — his name being called from all angles like he’s a celebrity. It made you snuggle up harder to his side, which he was alright with — he had no problem being extra touchy with you tonight whilst you wore that baby pink IAMGIA Demie set like you were doing it a favour. It shows more skin than Rafe was okay with people that weren’t him seeing, but he’d be with you all night, so he assumed it would be fine.

You fiddle nervously with the diamanté Hello Kitty sat on your chest when your boyfriend started to pull out the small bags with white powder inside. You didn’t quite understand the whole drug thing, but you knew for a fact you wasn’t the biggest fan of the way people acted when they were on it. They were loud, too grabby, scary. You push your cheek against Rafes side as people swarm him, asking for his supply. He’s cool and calm as ever, smirking in that way that made you want him all to himself.

“No hogging my shit this time a’ight? You get what you pay for.” He drawls playfully to the crowd, his hand thoughtlessly sliding to your waist to drag you gently out the way of the group that was forming near him. He turns his body a little, leaning down to your ear. “Wouldn’t mind grabbing me a beer would you baby? Got big boy business to attend to.”

You swan off to complete this task in a bit of a haze, you always got sort of dazed when you were with Rafe— mostly because being with him meant you got to switch your brain off and have him do all the thinking for you. It was a blessing and a curse, because now it’s been an hour and you forgot all about getting Rafe his drink, having found some friends to take some shots with instead.

You’re warm, stumbling giddily away from where everyone else is dancing as you approach the drinks table, pondering another. As you feel a presence appear up by your side, you tug your top up thoughtlessly, humming as you rub your glossy lips together. The strangers eyes fall to your little get-up, lip clamped beneath his top set of straight white teeth like a predator.

“I really love that little outfit. Looks great on you.” He calls out, with a friendly voice matching a friendly smile. It captures your attention and you whip your head to him, earrings jangling from the movement. You take the chance to look down at your ensemble before raising your glassy gaze up to him, ends of your lashes kissing your eyebrows.

“Oh my gosh, thank you!” You grin, wiping your clammy hands on the ruffle of your skirt. It was a compliment, sure — but in the back of your mind you surveyed the situation and he truly seemed like he liked the outfit, and didn’t seem creepy at all. He’s polite, keeps his gaze respectful (until you turn away, and he can catch a glimpse at your cleavage.) and friendly. You exchange names, before he ensues with the conversation.

“So where’s your friends? Left you all by yourself?” He reaches forward, pulling a piece of rogue fluff from your hair, chuckling adoringly at your carelessness as he tosses it aside. You spin around to where they previously were, met with no familiar faces and an empty space. You frown, glossy bottom lip sticking out when you turn back to him. Of course, it’s adorable.

Too adorable, thinks your boyfriend who watches you from across the room. He’s tightly clutching his own beer, stood chatting with his friends as he observes the situation — losing interest in the surrounding conversation all together. It had been an hour since he’d last seen you, and now here you were — parallel to him with some guy in your ear, making you laugh, fluttering those eyelashes like you always did. He ticks his jaw, tongue in his cheek as he stares you down. Waiting for you to come running over all guilty, ready to fawn over him.

The guy is suggesting your friends disappeared upstairs, perhaps a bathroom, a bedroom — anywhere he can get you alone to eventually work you out of your panties. You’re totally oblivious to it, shaking your head — having a reason against each of his suggestions. It’s frustrating, the way you won’t take the hint— but also the whole ‘bimbo’ thing was kind of doing it for him, unable to work out if you were a total slut or a total virgin, those doe eyes and innocent aura contrasting too heavily on the way your tits practically spill out of your top for either to give him a clear conclusion.

Rafe is mildly irritated, watching the way you bounce with each move you make— one wrong pose from your ass cheeks spilling from the bottom of your skirt. He keeps a watchful eye, until finally — your dopey expression meets his and your face lights up, traipsing over. Much to the Cameron’s surprise— you audaciously loop your arm around the guys bicep, dragging him with you.

“Rafey! Hi! Sorry about your drink, I forgot all about it.” You blink up at him, happy as a clam as you free your arms to affectionately stroke at his chest. He nods, lips parted as his eyes flicker over to the guy at your side— who’s face is slowly dropping in realisation.

“Yeah.” He responds, and doesn’t get to say much else because you’re dropping this sucker in it.

“This is my new friend! He’s helping me find my girls ‘cos I lost them.” You pout, and Rafe’s lip curls up into a smirk— gaze now completely fixated on the stranger.

“Friends huh? You uh, you makin’ friends with my girl, man?” He smiles, but it’s malicious— taking a step forward causing you to move aside. Your brows furrow, sensing the sudden shift in atmosphere, especially when Rafes two Kook attack dogs, Topper and Kelce tune into the conversation, which attracted even more eyes.

“I didn’t know, dude.” The boy seems to have lost all his confidence from before, shrinking several sizes as your tall boyfriend closes in on him.

“Ah, he didn’t know.” Rafe shrugs theatrically before turning to his friends— smarmy smiles on both of their faces at the interaction. “Guys he didn’t know.”

“Come on, man.” The stranger seems uncomfortable with the amount of attention the scene is already creating, more and more heads turning by the moment. You fiddle with your necklace again, twirling the thin chain around a manicured finger as you watch— unsure just what was happening. Your boyfriend claps a seemingly friendly hand onto the man’s shoulder, holding him tightly.

“Nah, man— tell me. You usually walk around at parties… alone… making friends with drunk chicks? That’s uh, yeah that’s a little weird man.” Rafe laughs, so naturally everyone laughs. It’s clear your boyfriend is set on humiliating this guy for talking to you, and you’re not quite sure how you feel about it.

“Maybe you shouldn’t let your girl walk around dressed like a hooker if you don’t want guys—” The boy doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because in a moments notice — Rafe has swung his fist back and pummelled it into his face, hard. A crowd forms, and you nearly get shoved out the way by the sudden rush of jeering, drunk party goers. You gasp, watching the way Rafe straddles his squirming body, a meek attempt at fighting back.

“What was that? You wanna say that shit again, huh? Huh?” Rafe continues to beat on the guy who insult you, teeth grit, jaw tense. The victim attempts to push Rafe off, but Rafe pins him again — bigger and stronger by a mile. This only seems to anger him more, and you watch as Rafe wraps two hands around the guys neck, holding down until his face turned pink.

That’s when you notice that Topper and Kelce aren’t smiling anymore, instead pushing through the crowd suddenly to grab a hold of their friend, yanking him off the man on the ground. Rafe only shrugs them off once before letting them drag him away.

“Yeah? Yeah? Maybe you’ll think next time you try ‘n make some fuckin’ friends, bitch.” He spits as his farewell, before shaking free of his friends and grabbing a hold of your upper arm, all but hauling you out of that party at a speed and strength to where you were certain your feet were barely touching the ground.

The drive home is silent, and only then you start to realise that you might be in trouble too. You didn’t like when Rafe got like this, mad and scary. His temper was no surprise to you, he was always storming around with a sour look on his face, or slamming doors after the daily argument he’d hash out with Ward. All of these examples seemed like mild irritation in comparison to the rage you saw him succumb to only moments prior. He had this look in his eye when his hands were around that man’s neck, his pupil overtaking his iris. It was like he really didn’t mind hurting this guy real bad, and you wondered what would have happened if no one stopped him. Usually, for the most part he kept his anger relatively far from you. Now, with just the two of you alone— you were facing it head on.

The car is even more silent once he puts it in park on the Tannyhill drive. Both of his hands are on the steering wheel, knuckles split and bloody still from his attack, and you notice a speck of blood that didn’t belong to him on Rafes cheek, making you pout— fighting the urge to reach out and brush it away. Instead you stare, waiting for him to speak.

“You know, you — you really gotta be more careful with who you make friends with, baby. Look at this shit I… I had to beat his ass because of you bein’ too friendly. Me. I had to handle shit.” He bites, and you sink back into the seat, ashamed and upset. Perhaps he was right, maybe you did need to keep your wits about you more.

“Oh…” Is all you manage, sad and whiny like a kicked puppy. He licks his lips, shaking his head and finally turning his body to face you.

“What did I say about making friends with guys? Huh? Tell me what I said.” He tilts his head, blinking at you with wide impatient eyes as he waits for an answer. You suck in a shaky breath, wracking your brain for the last time you’d had this conversation.

“Um… I don’t—” You swallow thickly but it’s cut off by your boyfriend grabbing your jaw, forcing you to look at him. As if he’d hit some kind of panic button, two fat tears roll down your cheeks, bottom lip wobbling.

“What did I say?” He raises his voice and you let out a sad sob, sniffling as you try to compose yourself— speaking as clearly as you can.

“You— you said— any guy that approaches me doesn’t wanna be friends. He just…” You sniffle.

“He just what? Go on, finish that shit.”

“He just wants to fuck me.” You cry and he nods, letting go of your face to push his floppy, slightly sweaty bangs away from his face, puffing out a breath through his mouth.

“Get your ass inside.” He mutters, and you’re quick to do so, hopping up out your seat and to the front door, fumbling for your obnoxious keychains in your shoulder bag.

He follows closely once you’re by the door, oddly gentle hands on your waist from behind that guide you all the way to the stair case, giving your ass a pat as he sends you off to his room. You’re standing pathetically when he enters a moment or so after you.

You clasp your hands at your front, the picture of innocence. You weren’t crying anymore, but still looking devastated by Rafes unfortunate mood. He approaches you, looming over you with an unreadable expression and you yearned to reach out and touch the warmth of his skin through his shirt, or to kiss his naturally flushed lips— but you wanted to be a good girl for him. Make things right.

“Y’know the polite thing to do is apologise, sweetheart.” He drawls and you nod vigorously, words taking a moment to find you.

“M’sorry daddy! Really didn’t mean—”

“Actions…” He cuts you off, eyes fluttering. He places two hands on your bare shoulders. “Speak louder than words. Understand?”

“Huh?” You pout, and he presses on your shoulders just a little.

“You know what to do. On your knees.” One hand leaves you, beginning to work at his belt making you have a Pavlovian-like reaction, mouth filling with drool. You realise you’re just staring and he blinks at you. “What are you waiting for, huh? Now, please.”

You quietly drop, shuffling to get as comfortable as possible and begin eagerly fumbling to help with his belt, blinking up at him with wet doe eyes. You were surprised to see that your boyfriend was already hard — not just a halfie as things begin, fully hard. Maybe something to do with the adrenaline, maybe he thought you were sexy when you cried— who knew.

His pants drop to his ankles and he widens his stance a little, licking over his sore lips and softly grasping the back of your head, easing you closer to press kisses to his covered cock. Your need to please got the better of you and you impatiently tugged off his boxers too, starting to leave a trail of glossy pink kiss prints all over him as you let out your own moan of relief.

You were thrilled he was letting you do this. You didn’t like arguing, never able to think of the right words and always crying too much just like a baby. You couldn’t stay cross with Rafe, you simply loved him too much — so you were happy to skip all the hard parts and head straight to the end, where you got to make it all better and earn his forgiveness. Rafe was always happy after you gave him head, especially when you worked super hard, giving him plenty of attention where he needs it. You couldn’t wait to watch him relax.

It wasn’t long before you had the tip of his cock bruising your throat, spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth when you gag around him, trying your very best to get him to cum. It seemed he was close, letting out quiet groans and even stroking your cheeks with his thumbs soothingly which was your favourite thing he did. Your nose twitches, sore and watery as you pull back once more — gazing up at him with gloopy eyelashes and flooded eyes, all sweetly, searching for his approval. He gives you a lazy smile and it’s enough to encourage you to head back down to take him as deep as he’ll go.

You clutch his balls and massage as you deep throat him once more, and this time — the burning of your mascara infiltrating your eyes gets too much to handle and you close them, squeezing them tight as you pull back ever so slightly to work your tongue over his shaft. You’re met with a light slap on the jaw, causing your eyes to spring open— staring up all wide like you’d been caught with a hand in the cookie jar instead of wrapping round his ballsack.

“Open your eyes, yeah— fuckin’ look at me. Good girl.” He grits his teeth, and you know he must be close. You keep sucking until he’s milked dry, Rafes pretty bunny and her favourite carrot — swallowing every drop he had to offer.

All is forgiven, and the incident is forgotten about within a few weeks. It was a hectic time, Rafe barely having the time to bring up something that seemed so menial whilst dealing with the death of his father and the feud between his sister and the ‘pogues’ he always seemed to complain about. Rafe seemed to believe there was something gold that he was owed, a cross or something like that. You wasn’t sure. You’d only picked up enough information through overhearing phone calls to his old dealer Barry, in which he’d promptly close the door to obstruct your thoughtless eavesdropping when he’d realise you might be listening.

He seemed to have moved on very quickly from his father’s demise. Oddly enough, his grieving period only seemed to last a few days. You didnt press him on it, it didn’t feel right to do so. You’d learnt from some reality TV show about rich housewives that sometimes when someone loses a person close to them, they don’t even act that sad at all because they don’t want to deal with the big feelings. You wondered if that’s how Rafe was feeling. However, you couldn’t help but also wonder if your boyfriend was in a way relieved to finally be the man of the house. Maybe that’s why he’d started wearing some of Ward’s clothes, demanding you call him ‘dad’ more often.

♪ ‘WHEN I SUCK IT I LOOK IN YOUR EYES

YOU BETTER FUCK ME LIKE YOU MEAN IT!’ ♪

You hum along happily the song you’d grown so fond of playing from the AUX of Rafes truck. Saturday, your favourite day of the week. Your boyfriend had been doing a lot of stuff, lately. Going to a lot of places without you. There was something secretive about the way he’d disappear into his father’s office with Barry, ‘handling business’ for hours and hours on end. Again, it became clear that all of this kerfuffle was clearly about the mysterious gold you’d hear about. Honestly, you didn’t care to ask questions. The only gold you cared about was the glitzy gold chain delicately wrapped around your ankle, a sparkling ‘RC’ pendant dangling off it, Rafes initials. You stretch your leg out in the car, admiring the way it hangs off your smooth limb.

He could spend all week handling business and getting shit done, but Saturdays? They were your days. Days and nights spent out together, always winding up back at your place where he’d stay round. You always had a free house at the weekends, so what better way to spend it than wailing into a pillow with your boyfriend balls deep inside of you?

The journey is cut short when Rafe slowly pulls up outside your house, putting it in park and yet making no move to even remove his seatbelt. You look out the window at the familiar setting before whipping round to look at him in confusion, batting your fluffy eyelashes.

“I’m… afraid you’re gonna be on your own tonight, bun.” He scratches his cheek, a guilty habit you were usually too flustered to pick up on.

“Huh?” You mewl, brows furrowing, body sinking down into the seat in refusal. “But… it’s Saturday. Did you forget, silly?” You pout, your words doing nothing to convince either of you that he had simply forgotten.

“I’ve got business to handle tonight. Really important stuff that you cannot get involved in. Okay? Need you to be at home, and stay out of it alright?” He’s serious, wide eyed and speaking slowly to ensure not a drop of information slips away from you as you blink at him all lost and sweet. He didn’t like disappointing you, and sure — he would rather spend his evening with his dick nestled in your wet warmth, but this was something that had to be done— whatever it was.

“But Rafe—” You go to protest, but he cuts you off with a firm hand on your jaw stopping your speech all together.

“Alright?” He searches your eyes for confirmation. The way he grabbed you reminded you of the time he was mad at you, and if he was really going to leave you lonely tonight — you figured it was best you leave things on a positive note and behave yourself. You blink sulkily at him and nod.

“Yes, dad.” You sigh out your nose and his expression softens, nodding in approval with a small smile.

“Thats my good girl.” He uses his grip on your jaw to pull you in, delivering a sloppy kiss to your lips and even rewarding you with the wet warm muscle of his tongue rolling over yours a few times for good measure — yet pulling away before you got too needy, because then he knew you’d never let him leave.

You’ll admit, you started to huff and puff once you’d left his side. It was Saturday, your Saturday — and maybe you were spoiled, but going out for brunch with your boyfriend and then having him drop you home was not nearly enough to satisfy your needs, especially after he’d been gone so frequently lately. You’d gotten yourself into quite a mood, nearly stomping right past the package that had arrived through your door.

You tear it open, alone in your house and for a brief moment your face lights up — the new butt plug Rafe had purchased for you online after you’d begged and begged sat in the cardboard box. Much like your other one, it was a bunnies tail— but instead of pink, the obnoxious puff on the end was fluffy and white, like a real Easter bunny. Your grin melts off your face right back into a sullen pout when you remember that Rafe wasn’t here to help you put it in, or play with it, or tell you how pretty it looks in your ass. You stomp your foot, anklet jangling. This wasn’t fair.

The sun goes down after hours upon hours of boredom, and you try to preoccupy yourself. You redo your hair all pretty, you fix up your makeup, you play dress up in your closet. The new plug is slicked up between your fingers, your bottom lip tugged between your teeth as you ready yourself. You never had to put your own bunny tail in, Rafe was always around to do it for you — have you sprawled over his lap, his hand pulling your cheeks apart and saying “Good job, stop tensing up would you?” You’re squirmy and whiny all alone, upset and petulant about the fact he wasn’t around. You felt… what was the word again? Neglected.

You press your cheek to your pristine bed covers, arching your ass in the air with an arm snaked uncomfortably round yourself, the difficult angle making it hard to push your tail in. You groan at the stretch from the cool metal, pussy drooling as your eyes flutter closed and you imagine your boyfriend doing it all for you, as intended. When it was snugly pressed inside of you, you giggle hazily — waving it in the mirror to get a good view. Pretty, you can almost hear his voice tell you how pretty that tight ass is, and you yearn to hear it in person.

You decided you weren’t going to take no for an answer. Rafe needed you, you knew it — perhaps he’d been isolating himself to deal with his big feelings, and you couldn’t take it any longer. You’d come to the decision that you were going to dress up so sweetly for him, march over there and make him feel all better with the warm embrace that was your cunt— or your mouth, or even your hand. Whatever your man needed, you would deliver.

You slide on some white, lacy lingerie. When you’d purchased it, you’d hoped it would remind him of wedding-wear, planting the idea that he should totally marry you, put a big glittery rock on your finger. Something that signified that he never, ever wanted to lose you. It was bunny-like in nature too, a hole slotted in the panties especially to fit the puff of your bunny tail through it— perfectly cohesive with your whole look. You’re quick to drag on more white, taking the form of a tight crop top and a skirt that unsurprisingly barely covered the fold of your ass cheeks where your thighs begin. In no time, you’re tottering down the street in kitten heels, clutching your purse to your side. You’d decided to walk— and by decided, you meant you didn’t have much choice — bound to being Rafe’s pretty passenger princess, full time.

An all white outfit was innocent, virginal, wedding-like. He couldn’t say no to you like this, surely not— you convince yourself as you stride street to street beneath the lights of street lamps. Kildare was safe, you seemed to think so anyway. Rafe disagreed, said there was lots of stuff you didn’t know— but you’d never seen anything too bad with your own two eyes.

Half way into your journey, your quiet muttering to yourself going over what you’d say when you got to Tannyhill was interrupted by your surroundings suddenly being tainted with a flashing blue and red glow. The rumble of a car pulling up beside you alerts your attention and you whip around to look, being met with the concerned gaze of Shoupe in his Sheriff car.

“Hi officer.” You wave politely.

“Can I ask what you’re doin’ wandering the streets at night by yourself? Not safe to be walkin’ about with next to nothing on, young lady.” He appears stern and your brows furrow, wondering if you’re in trouble. You hadn’t been questioned by a police officer before, they had come sniffing around after Wards death, but Rafe was always there to answer all the tricky questions for you. You whimper like a confused puppy.

“I—I missed my boyfriend so I wanted to go n’see him.” You whine, fists balled nervously at your side. It probably didn’t help that you were already riled up, so this was just immediately too much for you.

Shoupe recognised Rafe Cameron as your boyfriend and his eyebrows raise, purely at the fact that whilst he respected the Cameron family — he couldn’t fathom missing a spoilt brat like that.

“You know I got a niece of my own, about your age — I wouldn’t be lettin’ her walk the streets like this alright? Why don’t you give someone a call? Where are your parents?” He shakes his head, and now you’re super fed up.

“I don’t — am I in trouble? I had to walk because I failed my driving test and— and my parents go away on weekends I— I just miss my boyfriend and I want to go to his house! I don’t understand why you’re asking me stuff—” You start to cry, stomping a mini heel on the ground making the officer sigh, closing his eyes for a moment regretting stopping all together.

“Not my circus, not my monkeys. Don’t get paid enough for this crap.” He mutters to himself before opening his eyes and plastering on a forced smile and leaning his elbow out the open window. “‘Know what? Don’t you worry that head, young lady. Be safe, I’ll let you get on with it.” He waves before pulling out the parking space, leaving you waving him off tearfully— continuing your journey.

You wipe your tears, happy that you’re finally approaching Tannyhill— not long now until you’re back in your boyfriend’s arms. Sure, you were directly disobeying his one rule to stay home and mind your business tonight, but it wouldn’t be the first punishment you’d faced from Rafe — and the thought of having his hands on you in any way was delightful — so you’d be more than happy to pay the price.

Your shoes crunch carefully down the drive, blinking up at the grand historical home before you. You always loved being there. Being at Tannyhill with Rafe made you feel like he was the president and you were his first lady, ruling over Kildare in your very own White House. The fantasy whisks you away for a moment, and it takes you a couple of slow seconds to realise no one has responded to your knock at the front door. You wiggle the handle, and for once — it doesn’t open. You frown. Rafe was home, right?

You hum in confusion, trailing around to each window — looking for any signs of life as you call his name. “Rafey, are you home? It’s me…” You all but whine, growing increasingly more frustrated. Had you really walked all that way in the dark for nothing?

You puff out a dramatic breath, gathering yourself. Take a look around, you command yourself — use your big girl brain for once. Rafes truck was on the drive, and the lights were on in the house — so you figured it was fair to assume he was indeed home. The only thing out of place was the large van parked haphazardly on the drive. It wasn’t unheard of for unknown vehicles to be at Tannyhill. All sorts of people were in and out the gates for transport purposes whenever Ward would find something new and extravagant to auction off— but Ward wasn’t around anymore, and something tickled your curiosity enough to step towards it, questioning what it contained.

The large back doors are left ajar, so nosily you tiptoe over— fingers wrapping around one to pry it open some more, standing on the toes of your kitten heels to look at what would remain inside. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust, and for a few seconds you’re not met with anything of interest. Boxes, crates— nothing extraordinary. Your eyes drop down to the floor of the van, and you freeze. Surely not.

The body of a man lies dormant in a pool of distinctive crimson. He’s frozen up, like he’s scared or had been turned into a statue. His skin is pale, and his eyes are open— unblinking. You hadn’t seen many bad things in your life, hell— Rafe had even put you on a restriction from horror movies because you just couldn’t handle them — but what you were looking at was unmistakable. You were staring at a dead body.

You draw in a shaky gasp, and a heat wave of panic overcomes your body. It begins in your chest, and spreads through you like a virus — to your stomach, and then your arms and legs all the way to frozen stiff fingers and toes. You jerk back, hand flying up to cover your mouth as you stumble back a few steps, fresh hot tears brewing in your waterline. “Oh my g—”

Your whimper is cut short, the sound punched right out of you when you back up into something hard and firm. You jump out of your skin, yelping as what you walked into sprouts arms and whips you around at lightening speed to face it. Rafe, your boyfriend holds you infront of him, enraged. For the first time in your life, he terrifies you. “Told you to stay home, kid.” He spits out before spinning you back around and manhandling you into a lift, arms round tightly around you as he lifts you off the ground.

You go to scream, you even go to run— from your own boyfriend, something even a few moments prior you wouldn’t be able to fathom. He only grips you tighter, and this time covers your mewling mouth with a firm hand as he wrestles you inside, dragging you through the house.

As he tugs your flailing, panicking body up the stairs — you catch sight of Rose who lingers on the stairwell, watching with wide eyes.

“Rafe? Rafe what did she see?” She hisses urgently, alarmed by the way her step-son was handling his girlfriend.

“I’m handlin’ it.” He drawls out, seemingly irritated by her presence as he pushes you down the hallway.

“Don’t hurt her, Rafe.” Hurt her?

He all but launches you into the bedroom and you fly away from him, on the verge of hyperventilation. You paw at your eyes, wiping away the tears as you sniffle watching his every move. He moves slower now, locking the door which causes your heartrate to spike once more.

“Why the hell are you here?” He blinks at you irritably. “Huh? After I specifically told you to stay home.”

“I missed you.” You cough out a wet sob, trying to gather your thoughts enough to ask the valuable questions. Like, what was going on? Who was the dead body?

“You missed m— so we’re just… disregarding my rules now. The — the shit I tell you to keep you safe? Keep you out of allllll the dirty work I gotta do to keep shit afloat?” He’s mad, squinting and shaking his head.

“Did you kill that man?” You raise your voice ever so slightly, coming right out with it. The forwardness shocks you, but Rafes expression simply flattens, shoulders dropping a little before he sighs, shaking his head with his hands on his hips.

“No, I didn’t.” He makes a point to emphasise the ‘I’, which only reels you off into more confusion. “But… it’s my problem now. A’ight? So — so I gotta step up and handle it alright, look at — hey, look at me baby— okay, I’m a proactive person — I — I was handed a problem, and now I’m fixin’ it. Me. You understand that?” He’s walked right over to you now, and you’ve backed up away until your legs hit his bed causing you to sit down with a bounce. He crouches over you as he rambles, a hand on your shoulder to keep your attention. He has thrown a lot of information your way, and you try to follow along — eyes wide and head shaking slightly in response.

“Rafe— you’re scaring me. That person was dead you — you have to tell the police! I saw Shoupe on the way here, even talked to him — why — why don’t you just call him up n’tell him?” You whimper, breath catching in your throat between every couple of words.

Your boyfriend stands up straight suddenly, blinking like he’d been snapped out of his wide, watery eyed trance.

“You— you saw— what do you mean you saw Shoupe on the way here?” He glares and you shrink, feeling like you’ve done something wrong but not quite knowing what.

“He stopped me on the way here n’I told him I was comin’ to see you.” You pout.

“Oh, that’s…” He begins to pace, before barking out a soft laugh, hand rising to scratch his cheek. “Yeah that’s uh, that’s perfect really.”

You tilt your head, jostling your hoop earrings in the act. “What are you talking about?” You felt nervous for his answer, and unsure as to why that was.

He stops his incessant pacing, turning to you with an amused and yet somewhat deranged grin. “You’re in this now, baby. You n’me.” He gestures to the two of you with a finger as he slowly prowls closer. “So— so Shoupe knows you were on the way here at,” he lifts his arm, checking the watch beneath his Northface fleece. “Around this time frame. Right? So really…” He closes in on you fully once more, bending at the waist to look at you eye to eye. “If… if you turn me in, we’re goin’ down together. How’s that sound, huh— think you could handle jail baby? You think they do mani-pedis in prison?” He jokes, smirk only growing when your eyes widen. He was being cruel.

“Stop! I— I would never tell on you Rafey!” You start to cry again, and he nods slowly in approval, licking his lips. “Don’t wanna get locked up.”

“Yeah, well. All you gotta do is keep that pretty mouth shut. Think you can do that for me baby? Think you could… keep this little secret just for me?” Even now, he had a way with words. He made you feel special, like teaming up with him was something to be so proud of. There’s a warmth in your chest from the way he speaks to you, but a pit in your stomach at the guilt from feeling this way. You were dizzy with conflict.

“S’just too much, daddy. I dunno, what if I make a mistake? Just so dumb sometimes.” You sniffle, going to cover your face but he bats your delicate hands out the way with his own palms, cupping your cheeks to force your attention on him.

“Hey, hey. Gotta… use that bunny brain sometimes baby. Yeah? Gotta think about what might happen… if anyone finds out.” His voice softens with each word, invading your personal space until his warm breath fanned over your face comfortingly. He had a way of breaking you down to something so regressed and yet primal, pure putty in his criminal hands. Somewhere in the back of your hazy brain you felt this might be a tactic to get you on his side with all of this, but the words wouldn’t find you. “You’re my good girl, alright? Know you can do it…” His lips softly press to yours, and he starts to kiss you slowly, sensually, like he had all the time in the world.

You get lost in the kiss, it’s only natural — with the way his tongue wrapped itself skilfully around yours. He finds himself sat on the bed beside you, pulling you to perch on his leg as you succumb to the makeout session. He was really good at it, so talented at getting you wet and squirmy with just his mouth on yours. It feels like ten minutes of this have possibly passed by when your brain starts to ring out the alarm bells once more, warning you of your predicament. Your heart starts to pound and you pull back a little, eyes shiny and wide as they gaze into his lustful pair.

“M’scared.” It comes out quiet and he shakes his head, in total refusal of this.

“Shh, shh. How ‘bout you turn that brain off for a while. Yeah? Let me handle it.”

You suck in a shaky breath, swallowing thickly as you try to keep the panic at bay in his tight hold. “Can’t.”

“Yeah. You can. Can start by taking all these clothes off.” He drags his hands over your body, messing up the fabric in its wake. “Came over just lookin’ all pretty… would hate to ruin a night like this, right?” He talks slowly like you’re dumb and it only makes you ooze more, finding yourself nodding eagerly, sniffing back the tears and hopping onto your feet to kick off the kitten heels, dropping an inch or so in height.

Rafe tugs your skirt down as you pull your top over your head, and he hums in appreciation at the white lace adorning your body. “Mm, s’fuckin’ sexy.” He whispers, turning you by your hips to do a little spin for him, not able to help himself from giving your ass a sharp little smack and jiggle when he spots the new bunny tail poking through. “This one’s new, huh?” He drawls, giving it a little tug making your knees buckle, turning to clamber back onto his leg.

“Mhm.”

“Yeah. Wanna keep these on, yeah?”

You nod, and he’s kissing you again, handsy as ever as he caresses your soft skin. He’s being nice, for now. It usually started off this way before he’d get too impatient but you knew he was being extra nice for the purpose of persuading you to side with his unforgivable actions. Your criminal boyfriend drags his hand down your stomach, two finger pads rubbing circles over your clit through the lace making you groan out a cracked and desperate sound against him.

“Turn around.” He whispers, aiding you to sit between his legs, leaning back against him. Once in this compromising position, he peels your soaked underwear to the side— sliding his fingers through your messy folds. “God damn, weren’t lyin’ when you said you missed daddy— that right?”

“Just… just missed you so much.” Your eyes flutter shut, and you do find yourself relaxing more and more against his warm body, a clammy hand clutching the zip of his grey fleece, shuddering from his skilful touch.

After stroking your clit, causing you to clench and cream around nothing for a while, desperate moans sure to be heard by Rose if she was worriedly lurking in the hallway, Rafe started to push his thick fingers in, humming and licking his lips hungrily as your greedy hole swallowed him up, the long digits squelching from your copious tsunami of arousal.

“Oh daddy!” Is all you can say as he curls them just right, working you quickly towards your finishing point. As you drop into that Rafe-obsessed headspace, nearly at the crowning of your orgasm— his deep nasally voice rumbles from behind you, attracting your attention. As he speaks, he pulls his fingers back just so only the tips still remained inside you, and kept them there even when you wriggled your hips trying to get them in further.

“So… what are you gonna say if someone asks you where you were tonight? Huh?” His voice carries a threatening tone, which makes you pout at how totally unfair of him it was to work you into brainless mush and then ask you such an important question.

“I— uhm, I don’t—” You whimper as you writhe in his lap. He pulls his fingers out of you completely and in one fluid movement slaps your pussy, causing you to cry out in sensitivity at the harshness on the cunt he had spread open on top of him.

“Where?” He grits his teeth and you pant.

“At home, daddy!”

He seems satisfied, and slowly he sinks his fingers back inside you, causing you to release a relieved whine, liquifying against his body once more. “See? Not as dumb as you look, bunny girl.”

The words cause tingles to run through your very being, and as he continues to finger fuck you— you’re brought very close to the edge, very soon.

“Mmph— dad, g’nna cum!”

“Yeah? Gonna cum just for dad?” He lilts sympathetically in response.

“Yeah!”

“Yeah?”

Just like that, he pulls his fingers out of you — and before you have the chance to complain or even let out a petulant whine, he’s forcing your mouth open and stuffing his soaked fingers inside, all the way down your throat.

You slap at his wrist, gagging wetly as he holds your head against him keeping him still. “Yeah, that fuckin’ hurt? They’ll do a lot worse to you in prison, sweetheart. Can tell you that for free.” He finger fucks your throat for a few quick beats before drawing them out, letting you suck in harsh breaths. He wipes his fingers on your cheek before giving it an affectionate pat. “Haven’t earned the right to cum just yet. You understand right?”

You sniffle, starting to cry again. This whole ordeal was clearly upsetting to you, and Rafe was just treating it like it was one big loyalty test. All you wanted was to be with him, kiss him, touch him — and he was just being so mean.

Your tears do nothing for your case. Suddenly and aggressively, your boyfriend grips the back of your neck and forces you down into the mattress on the bed, your ass lifted obscenely in the air — panties still forced to the side with your tail-stuffed hole and drooling pussy on full display to him. Glitter refracts off your cheek when you turn your head on the bed, trying to get a look at him.

“Would you look at that?” He twiddles with the fluffy tail and you groan, body softening slightly and pussy dribbling. “Doesn’t take much. Does it baby? Yeah. Dressed up all sweet for me, you uh—” He chuckles at the cruel joke before it leaves his mouth. “Wouldnt take you for an accessory to a crime.”

You let out a pitiful sob and his jaw ticks in irritation, leaning right over you, jostling you a little so he could talk right in your ear. “Quit. That guy you saw in the truck was a bad man, alright? Worlds better off without scumbags like him. I don’t… I don’t wanna hear you’re feelin’ all bad about it. I always make the decisions, right? Daddy always knows what to do, right?” He demands aggressively, spanking your ass hard when you don’t respond immediately.

“Yes daddy you— you always know!” You wail, distraught and he nods, lips parted and jaw slightly agape — fighting his belt off his body to yank his pants down just enough to pull his dick out.

As much as you enjoyed showing your tail off to Rafe, wiggling it against his pelvis, tickling his tanned skin with the fluff each time he draws his hips in — you were actually a little disappointed you weren’t getting to be on your back today. You craved the closeness, the kisses, getting to see his pretty cock collect all your glittery slick as he fucks into your glossy hole. Instead, he pushes in from behind and sets a punishing pace, balls slapping against you as he holds you down, forcing your arch into place. With each thrust, comes a quiet grunt of his own exertion — the days frustration being worked out on you.

This lasts for a few minutes, Rafe slightly changing things up like adjusting your position or putting a foot up on the bed to dig you out even deeper. Your cunt was so sloppy it was audible, squelching with each roll of his agile hips. From the way he had previously stolen your much needed orgasm, you could tell you weren’t going to last much longer, fucking desperately back against him as you sobbed.

“Shit, why you fuckin’ crying so much huh? This not enough for you, princess?” He taunts breathlessly, squeezing your hips for an answer.

“Miss you Rafe, want you— want you nice!” You’re shaky, forcing in a painful breath as you cry— mascara making a mess of his sheets but he didn’t care about that right now— too focused on the way your ass jiggled against him with each thrust. As perfect of a view this was, he couldn’t tolerate the tears and flipped you onto your back, forcing your legs up over his shoulders.

As he slots himself back in, he shakes his head— floppy hair sweaty, some of it stuck to his forehead. “There? Happy? Y’gonna stop cryin’ now, hm?” He drawls, speeding up his pace once more, indulging in the way your tits are escaping the lacy cups of your bra. He palms at them greedily, helping free them out the top and he disappears into your neck, groaning as he hits a new spot, your hole sucking him in like it had a mind of its own.

He sucks marks on your neck. Proof you were here, he thinks in the back of his mind. He draws back to admire his work and is met with your tear-stricken, devastated face. All pretty with doe like eyes, gloopy runny mascara framing them, a single mink lash on your cheek. He swipes it away, unable to control the urge to press his body right onto yours and envelop your lips with his own.

He sucks on your tongue, holding you there with a hand gently round your neck as he possesses you entirely. The continuous slapping sound of his cock bruising your insides becomes music to your ears as you float away on a cloud, eyes struggling to stay open from the sheer amount of pleasure you were facing. As he softly holds you by your throat, like a farmer handling its first baby bunny — he feels that remaining amount of tension coursing through you. That last inkling of resistance, even if you didn’t know it was there. He slows his pace, grinding his cock inside you, massaging the tension out.

“Oh, little girl. Poor bunny, huh?” He coo’s, cradling your shaking, clammy body as you whimper, puffy walls spasming around his length. “All caught up in big bad Rafe’s problems, aren’t you. Yeah… well, it’s okay. I got you baby. You’re never gonna lose me, okay? You’re all mine.”

With your bodies connected, you gaze up into his eyes. All his, the words you adored more than anything. Your eyes drift over to his left shoulder where your anklet swings with each jostle of your body. ‘R.C’, the initials catch the light through blurry tearful eyes. All his.

A hand snakes between you, and when he presses down on your clit — your body finally gives in and you squeeze out a gut wrenching moan, legs shaking violently as you grip him, cumming hard and abundantly around his slick cock. He’s talking you through it, rolling his hips determinedly as you cum. You briefly catch his voice groaning out a “Thats my good girl. S’me and you baby. Don’t you forget it. Me n’you.”

You squirt out around him, soaking his abdomen, and whilst you might usually be concerned and embarrassed— you can’t think straight enough to consider that. He doesn’t seem to mind either, fucking into you as he chases his own high, mumbling words you couldn’t hear into your neck or mouthing at the fat of your tits as he’s spurting out his own thick, hot release.

Everything feels dreamlike after that, from the way he pulls out and smothers your hot face in sloppy kisses — to the way he lazily mops you up with a towel. You can’t process the pleasure you endured, and soon you fall asleep right there on Rafe’s bed, hot and feverish.

It must’ve been a good few hours you slept for, because when you wake to the soft warm touch of your boyfriend and his rings gliding up your back— your bleary eyes find the clock at his bedside to read 5:30AM. Rafe is dressed differently to how he was before, a black shirt you recall noticing in your immediate vision. He’s scooping you in his arms, sitting you up as you let out a disorientated whine, having trouble letting your brain catch up.

One hand strokes your cheek, to keep you awake— and the other strokes the fat of your hip, self indulgently. “So turns out, we’re uh— goin’ on a little trip. You like vacations, huh?”

You blink your sticky eyes at him, hand grazing the buttons of his shirt as your voice attempts to croak out a response. “Rafe, what’s —” Your brain starts to catch up, an unfamiliar and harrowing feeling spreading through your stomach— sinister and dooming as you remember the events that occurred before he’d fucked you and gotten you to fall asleep on his bed. Where had he been? So many hours had passed.

He cuts you off with a smile, a relieved smile — like all his problems had vanished, the corpse you’d found having just gotten up and walked away.

“Goin’ on a big boat. How’d you feel about the Bahamas, baby?”

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

"anything" - emily prentiss x liaison!fem!reader

summary: you take an unnecessary risk out in the field

wc: 1.4k

cw: flangst? typical cm violence, but mostly just mentions, pre-establish relationship!

this is my first emily fic plz lmk if u like it!

A steady beeping slowly drags you awake. Your eyes flutter open and you take in the hospital room around you. The first thing you notice is the source of the beeping, from the patient monitor beside your bed. Then the pain hits you like a muffled train wreck, crashing into you but hitting a wall, so it doesn’t hurt quite so bad. They must have you on some strong medication, because it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as you thought it would. The worst feeling of all, though, comes from your abdomen, and when you shift in the bed, it aches and this weak little whimper uncontrollably escapes you. 

“Don’t move,” the velvet voice beside you warns. You didn’t even realize Emily was in here, that’s how knocked out you feel. When you turn your head, you see she’s got the chair pulled up as close to your bed as it can go, her elbows connected to her knees in a C-shaped hunch. “You’ll pop your stitches, and it still wouldn’t be the stupidest thing you’ve done today.”

You hear the sternness in your girlfriend’s voice and feel the color drain from your face. She always said you could never control your face, at least not around the people you love. In family interviews, or talking to the press? You could be stone-cold, unreadable. But once you’re comfortable around someone, your visage has a mind of its own. 

“I’m-”

“I know, you’re sorry,” Emily scoffs. Her voice reminds you of bitter, dark chocolate right now. She’s clearly irritated, but remains by your side loyally. That’s how you know she loves you. “That doesn’t change the fact that you made a thoughtless, reckless decision.” 

“I was actually going to say that I’m not sorry,” you huff, groaning softly as you move your rear back to sit up a little. Emily leans back in her seat and her jaw hardens. “Maybe I did act on impulse, but you would have done the same thing.” 

“You disobeyed Hotch’s direct order to stay put,” Emily’s chocolate eyes darken, and she rises from her seat, towering over you with her arms crossed over her chest. “And it got you shot.”

“I thought you were in trouble,” you grumble, your voice just barely above a whisper. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You and Hotch and Morgan all went in different directions, and I heard a scream and a gunshot from where you had gone,” you rattle off, your words all stringing together from the drowsiness. 

You recalled the vast farmland property where Garcia had nailed down the Unsub, how Hotchner didn’t want to wait on SWAT to show up because the guy’s endgame was so close to playing out. He killed at exactly noon with every single one of his victims, so the team had three minutes to find this missing girl. 

“And I couldn’t just stay put, Emily, not when I thought you’d been hurt,” you wring your hands over the top of the scratchy hospital blanket, your knuckles going stark white. “I couldn’t just wait to see what had happened. I couldn’t be helpless like that, not when I thought you might be hurt.” 

Emily’s got her eyes closed and she’s breathing in and out sharply, like she’s forcing herself to calm down, to filter through her initial thoughts so as to not say anything irreversible. “But Hotch told you to stay put,” she repeats in a defeated murmur, lifting one arm to run her hand through her hair. Her fringe is all over the place, and you’re just now noticing the dirt on her milky white cheek. She’s not rested since the farm, you realize, not even taken a second to wipe the dirt off her face. 

Guilt pours over you like a rainstorm, and you feel angry, frustrated, self-reproaching tears well up in your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. “I didn’t do it to scare you,” you whisper. “I’m sorry, Em. I’m sorry that you had to worry about me like that. But I’d do it again in a heartbeat if it meant knowing that you were okay.” 

“Don’t Em me,” her voice cracks and you see tears start to fall from her eyes. She must be so tired. You don’t know how long you’ve been out, but you can tell from her posture, from her expression, that she’s not had a moment of respite since she saw the bullet take you down. 

You recall the look on her face - horrified, when she hovered over you, lying in the dirt. She shot the Unsub directly after he shot you. Hotch and Morgan made it in time to help the victim out of her ties, so she ran over to you the second the Unsub was down. 

“What were you thinking?!” she shrieked, lifting your shirt only to find blood oozing from the hole in your stomach. 

“I thought…” you murmured breathlessly, your eyes immediately feeling heavy. 

“Someone get a medic over here now!” she shouted, holstering her gun and pressing her hands onto your stomach. You woke up in the ambulance a little bit after that, but were too hazy to say anything. 

All you remember is Emily crushing your hand between both of yours and muttering something under her breath repeatedly. "Stay with me, baby." You hear it now. "Please don't go."

You reach gingerly for her hand as she stands over you now, unable to stretch your arm out too far for fear of popping a stitch. She helps you out and shuffles forward a step, sitting back down in her chair and pulling it next to the bed. Your fingers grasp hers, and then your palms are flush together. “I’m still really pissed at you,” Emily says. “So is Hotch. Says he has half a mind to take you off active duty altogether.” 

You purse your lips. Surely that’s not totally true. “Well, then he’d have to deal with the press on his own, and he’d want to rip his hair out,” you say. Emily squeezes your hand and you squeeze back. 

“I think he’d do it if it mitigates the risk of you getting shot,” Emily admits seriously. 

“It’s just a graze,” you grumble. Emily’s glowering at you again, and you concede. “A graze that required emergency surgery, but still a graze.” 

“Baby, I don’t think you know what a graze is,” Emily says. “They had to remove a bullet from your stomach. That’s not a graze.” 

You feel your cheeks tingle as they turn pink and you shrug your shoulders, pretending to be none the wiser. “Tomato, tomahto,” you wave your free hand nonchalantly. 

“You feel okay right now? D’you need any more pain meds?” Emily asks, the caretaker in her taking over, despite her frustration towards you getting into this situation in the first place. 

“I’m alright,” you say quietly. Emily’s eyes, beautiful orbs of brown so dark they’re almost black, float down to where your wound is. “Em, hey,” you insist, and those eyes snap back up to yours. “I’m alright. Promise.”

“You’re an idiot, is what you are,” Emily chastises with a sigh. 

“How long are they keeping me here?” you ask in a feeble attempt to change the subject. 

“Probably just a couple of days,” she says, lifting your knuckles to her lips and kissing them gently, like you’re made of fine china, like you could shatter at any moment. “Everyone wants to see you. I told them you probably wouldn’t be up for visitors until tomorrow,” she says. 

“That’s fine,” you agree, leaning your head back against the pillow. Whatever medications flowing through the IV in your wrist has you feeling very low-energy. “And how long are you gonna be mad at me?” you ask, sticking your bottom lip out a little in an attempt to earn some sympathy points. 

Emily shakes her head a little, but you see the faint uptick of her mouth that gives her away. “At the very least, however long it takes you to recover,” she jokes halfheartedly. 

“Does my punishment come with a ban on kisses?” you ask, tugging her hand with your own. 

Emily leans forward in her seat, her lips mere centimeters from your own. “That would be a punishment for me, too, and I didn’t do anything wrong,” she teases, then pecks your lips briefly. 

Your eyes are feeling heavy, and you heave a small sigh. “Love you, Em,” you say softly as the room goes dark. “Do anything for you, Em.” 

“I know you would, baby,” Emily sighs as well, but you feel her thumb swiping over the back of your hand. “That’s the problem.”

[brennenscolby]

Rough. || könig

Summary: you made a grave mistake telling your husband to get rough with you.

A/N: you guys keep asking, I keep giving. I’m so feral for this man it’s so bad :(

Wc: 1k +

Content: MAJOR SPIT KINK, overstimulation, creampie, praise, Dom! Konig, teasing, dirty talk, breats play, breast fetish, rough sex, spanking, anal play.

Pairings: König x Female! Reader

Minors DO NOT interact

————

The expanse of your exposed back shimmered with perspiration as your plump breasts pressed firmly against the pink rabbit plushie beneath your form, staining the surface of the fabric with abundant drops of sweat.

Heavy pants fell from your kiss-bitten lips, growing more frequent as your husband’s hips harshly slapped against your jiggling ass cheeks, prompting a rumble of flesh to echo across your shared bedroom. A soaked spot resided below the moans and groans bouncing across the room, containing reminants of pre-cum and arousal of which spilled from your used pussy moments prior. It’s been hours since he started fucking you like this and he hasn’t let you cum yet. Not after what you said to trigger the event in place.

“I want you to be rougher with me. We have gentle sex all the time. I don’t want that anymore.”

“Is this what you Fuckin’ wanted, schatz?” He barked, lips attacking the juncture between your jaw and neck as he continued pumping his heavy, thick cock deep within your spongy, velvety walls. “Ich werde deinen perfekten kleinen Körper beanspruchen”, he rasped with gritted teeth. You mumbled incoherently, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you desperately yearned to release on your husband. Stray hairs stuck to your sweaty visage, making you look all the more gorgeous in the eyes of the man that solely got to witness the pleasured looks and lewd glances which appeared on your face from his own ministrations.

“Speak up.” A broad hand snatched your face in a vice-like grip, fingers wedging to squish your cheeks.

“Y-you’re so b-big!” You babbled, eyes sparkling as they met his own. He smirked darkly at your angelic face and rolled his hips oh so tenderly, forcing you to sputter as drops of arousal spilled onto the dampened sheets beneath your forms.

“Hmm!” your pink tongue lolled out of your gaping mouth, of which contained traces of smeared crimson lipstick trailing up to your cheek. Your mind drifted in and out of an otherworldly state, thoughts swirling to mush at the presence of the veiny, fat cock bullying its way into your poor little pussy.

“You’re always so tight, sweetheart.”

You let out a cute little whimper of which König took as a sign of your pleasure. He nipped at your ear hotly, teeth grazing just the tip to stem another desperate mewl from your salivating mouth.

“Good girl.” he cooed, mocking the desperation in your voice.

Your dampened eyes snapped open, feeling as rough palms suddenly prodded your plush, ass cheeks apart, exposing them to your husband’s piercing gaze. You whined and squirmed, desperately clawing the sheets in front of you before feeling your back suddenly stiffen as a glob of spit dripped down your asshole and to the space where your wet pussy tightly stretched around his pulsing cock.

“K-konig!” You wailed, tears messily dripping down your flushed cheeks in zigzagged trails. Embarrassment colored your bashful face as you hid into the mattress below. The translucent substance smeared between the cleavage, and you squealed the second a harsh slap smacked against your reddened ass.

A rumble of deep laughter vibrated in your ear and down your shivering back, going as far as to course through your body and down to your twitching, throbbing clit. He hummed seductively, pressing the hardened abs of his stomach against the flesh of your lower back.

“I know you like it when I do that, liebling.” Your husband sighed huskily, pulling the head of his heavy cock back out of your cum covered cunt, leaving the stretched hole of your inviting cunt abandoned and puckering for attention, before roughly plunging your tensing walls apart, a loud squishing sound following from your mixed, dripping juices.

“F-fuck”, you gasped, grasping your colorful pillow to your pounding chest tightly, only to feel the sensitive buds of your tits rake against the material in spouts of stimulation.

“Cute little asshole twitching all f’me.” his accent rasped and you whined adorably in reply, the heat from your dewy cheeks shimmering down on your moistened collarbones. He hoisted his body forward, the bulky build of his torso fully encapsulating your small, nimble form as he cruelly curled a muscled arm around your delicate neck, the other tracing its appendages down to rub soothing circles on your clit.

Your heart skipped a beat at his embrace, adrenaline coursing through your veins. He continued using your body like an instrument, forcefully propelling his soaked pelvis so that his cock skimmed your insides in the most delicious of ways.

Your husband moaned upon catching your watery orbs, snickering the second three of his appendages suddenly slipped into your mouth. You sputtered and choked in surprise, chest heaving as your eyes fluttering closed before you obediently suckled the thick fingers in your heated cavern.

“Mmm!”, you moaned sweetly, tears rolling down your heated cheeks and collecting beneath your saliva covered chin.

“You’re so fuckin’ cute, Schatz.” he grunted, rolling his hips back to sharply thrust back in, smacking against the plushy place against the upper wall of your cunt powerfully enough to make the springy bed you leaned on, squeak.

“Can’t believe this cute pussy is all mein.”

Whiney little mewls escaped your lips and rumbled against his fingers as he continued plunging into your pussy, the walls clenching around the intrusion of his slippery dick as he chuckled below his breath from your mindless hiccuping and sputtering moans.

“You feel s’ good, liebling.” he groaned, the flesh surrounding his pelvis and the v lines of his sturdy hips were smothered in your glistening arousal, which he moaned fondly of the second he felt more of it splatter onto the muscles of his upper thighs and his spamming balls.

“You gonna make this pretty pussy cum on my cock, ja Süße?” You nodded dumbly, the pads of your fingers scrambling to grab at the flexed muscled arm wrapped around your neck. “Y-yea- ahh¡”

“Yes what?”, he challenged, azure eyes calculatingly staring at the pleasured features of your cute face.

“Y-yes, my h-husband.” He smirked, his hand pinching and fondling a single bouncing breast.

“Mein. deine Fotze gehört ganz mir.”

You hastily pulled your quivering mouth away from his drenched fingers, a web of spit sticking to your chin as you choked and sputtered, the knot in your lower belly coiling at the sudden embrace of his cock pressing against the sweet, plump place in your pussy. Your back arched as your shaky thighs trembled, eyes pinching closed from the sudden orgasm which overcame your senses.

“I-I’m cumming!”, you mewled prettily, breathless from the slick coated balls that slapped firmly against your sweet, drizzled cunt.

“G-Gottverdammt. Shit.” König grunted lowly, the feeling of your throbbing walls squeezing his brimming, inflamed cock oh so deliciously, he began to pant the moment spurts of his hot, white cum splattered across the insides of your soft, gushy pussy. Angelic moans spewed from his mouth as he emptied himself in you, lovingly kissing your shoulder blade as his forehead lazily pressed on your matted spine. Weak movements from his hips pushed him to keep rutting against your puffy clit as he slowly pulled out, streaks of his seed splashing on the hood of your cunt.

König stood rigid against your sweaty back as you gulped for air, hands loosely planting on the white, crisp mattress cover below you before your senses finally regulated. Your tired body limply dropped on the bed and you looked at your husband expectantly, only to find yourself getting hoisted upwards by his strong hands.

Your face was approximately inches from his, and you began to feel self-conscious now that your rabbit plushie no longer shielded your full breasts from his intent gaze. You opened your half-lidded, fluttering eyes slowly, batting them innocently before feeling as the wind suddenly escaped your pounding chest. Hefty appendages dug into the hickies marked into the surrounding flesh of your neck, and you began to cry, fright shining in your doe-like eyes as your heart accelerated in anticipation.

“What did I say about making me cum, Schatz?”

—-

deine Fotze gehört ganz mir. - your cunt is all mine.

Ich werde deinen perfekten kleinen Körper beanspruchen - I’m gonna claim your perfect little body

Süße - sweet

Liebling - darling

Maus/mausi - mouse

Ja - yes

Schatz - treasure

Mein- mine

Gottverdammt - god dammit

[dollwritesarchive]

𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐲 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 — 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐳𝐞𝐛𝐮𝐛, 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐨 & 𝐦𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐧

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut headcanons ( minors dni ), fem!reader, grinding, dry humping, begging, ab riding, over the panty stimulation, all characters featured are 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ requested by anonymous. do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. thanks for reading < 3

Beel always gets a little dazed when you say “Please, baby, I need you.” real sweet and straddle his lap. you’re still sleepy from a nap, clad in little more than his oversized muscle top and your panties.

like he’s awestruck; he just can’t believe something so pretty and needy exists.

“I’m almost done with these reps and then I’ll play with you after—“ he starts to say, jaw clenching as he grips the massive barbell with both hands, splayed out on the bench.

but you can’t help it, the way his chiseled form is laid out for you, and the diamonds of sweat against his temple and sparkling against the deep valleys of his abs has you purring, inching up higher on his lap, gripping his hands with your much smaller ones to hold on to the bar. you glide over his abs with ease, the firmness of the ridges rubbing through the thin, cotton lingerie to rouse your clit to life.

“Not after,” you pout, and he pauses, watching you grind into his bare torso, “now.”

at first, a cherry blush overtakes his cheeks. the visage of your arms above your head, holding on to his hands on the bar, keeping them and the barbell itself in place while your hips oscillate, dragging your core over his damp midsection until you start to soak a patch through them, and your eyes glittering with need and lust all but leaving him speechless— breathless.

“Okay.” was what he musters after a moment of awed staring, and when you mewl and snap your hips forward to ride the wave of his stomach, his own jut forward, muffling a low grunt. he must’ve been rock solid in his gym shorts by now. you would’ve bet a million Grimm that his base instincts had kicked in, and that all of the snorting he was doing as he lay back was the same reason his pupils were blown out black: he could smell your arousal and it was driving him crazy, too.

his eyeline falls to watch your grinding, becoming utterly mesmerized by the way you rock back and forth, and the damp bleeding through your panties. “You’re so wet.” he exclaimed in a breathy, half grunt, “Does it feel that good?”

and you nod, your nails biting into the backs of his hands as your pace quickens. your knees spur into his ribs, planting you firmly in place so you can strum yourself silly on his abdomen. “I’m so… so sensitive,” you whimper, rolling your body to focus all of the pressure on to your swollen, greedy clit, your eyelids flutter when it scrapes over one mountainous muscle pad, “Need— need to cum… Beel…”

“Should I—“

but you shook your head, fervent, and clamped down harder on his hands in case he tried to pull them from the bar. “Don’t,” you whine, “don’t do a thing, baby. Not a single, fucking thing.” your breath was broken into furious puffs now as you ride him, rasping your throbbing clitoris over him, leaving the sweet, addictive smell of your needy cunt smeared over his flesh. you knew he’d leave it there for the rest of the night, and his brothers would simmer in their jealousy every time they caught the scent. “I’m so close,” you urge, feeling a knot pulling tighter and tighter in your lower belly, “gonna cum all over your abs, baby.”

Beel’s eyes were wide and happy, a speechless smile tugging at his lips. you could tell by how tight the muscles in his arms were that he wanted to pull them from the bar, slide you back down to grind his cock against your soaking panties, but he doesn’t. instead, his hips rock back and forth, fucking the air in anticipation. “I wanna see…” he mumbles, fists now tight around the barbell. “Cum all over me, pretty girl.”

you had been so patient all night, sitting pretty, allowing Diavolo plenty of time to tend to the needs and concerns of those who reside in the Devildom, and there had been many.

however, by the time dinner was coming to a close, your patience was wearing thin.

it was his fault, you decided, for looking so dapper in his suit— not a single hair out of place, and smelling like vanilla bean and smoke. his fault for holding his big, warm, strong palm resting on your bare thigh underneath the slit of your skirt the whole time. his thumb grazing the silken flesh he found there.

you could tell that it was his way of apologizing for so little quality time spent with you today.

maybe you weren’t being as patient as you thought, after all. maybe he could see the desire to grab him and escape every time someone called his name. maybe you were huffing, and closing your eyes to keep from rolling them.

maybe Diavolo’s gentle circles against your leg was to calm you down.

but it was doing the opposite.

because his warmth was so damn close to your treasure now, so you stealthily glanced down at it, swallowing a gulp from your glass around the growing lump in your throat.

his paw is massive, and splayed out over the majority of your thigh, so you shift in your seat, opening your legs wider.

when his hand slides closer to your core, he casts you a warning glance, but you’re already staring at him from behind the glass you sipped from, brow quirked.

Diavolo chews on the inside of his cheek, his eyeline slowly dropping downward so as not to attract the attention of the dinner guests, but they become glued to your legs as they spread wider.

finally, you slip one hand under the table and grab hold of his wrist, guiding his to your panties, pressing against the dampness of them so Diavolo can feel how warm you are — how badly you want him.

and Diavolo responds in kind, pressing his thick fingers against your sex, seeking the swollen and throbbing bundle of nerves. when he finds her, he rubs in slow, hard circles.

you’d been holding on to the desire all day and most of the night, so his heavy handed nature against your most sensitive state has you stifling a needy whimper, trying your damndest to be as discreet as possible as you arch your back and rock your hips, dragging your desperate, clothed cunt over his hand.

your nails dig into his wrist, unsure if you want to ease him into a softer rhythm or try to force him to speed up.

but, the attention he was giving you felt too good to change even an iota.

before you knew it, you were squirming on his palm, struggling to keep your eyes from crossing, coming undone in forced silence.

looking up at his countenance was a mistake, because as soon as you did, you spotted a cheeky grin tickling his tiers, gems alight, and crimson cheeks. he was all too happy to play with you under the table, right in front of his dinner guests.

he might have even considered your inability to wait any longer the biggest compliment to be paid to him.

you knew that look all too well— and you knew this would not be the last time he got you off at dinner.

“What was that, baby?” Mammon crooned; a wicked smile etching his mouth upwards. oh, how he did so enjoy when you were under his thumb. “Tell me again, real clear this time.”

“Please,” you mewled, desperately arching your back off the bed, angling your core towards his. you could feel how hard the lump in his jeans was already, and you ached and buzzed and yearned for him to free his cock from the harshness of the fabric and bury it inside of you, “please, Mammon… I want your cock so badly.”

but Mammon only leans closer into your rocking, pressing the protuberance against your panties, one hand gripping the buckle on his own belt as he glances down through unruly, silver tendrils.

he wasn’t even trying to undo his fly and satiate your most primal urges, he only wanted to see how pathetic you could be for him.

“Fuck, you’re so sexy when you’re needy.”

it’s barely above a whisper, breathy and starved, and it only spurs you to rub against him more fervently, whimpering as the minimal friction teases your most sensitive section.

“Stop teasing me,” you whine, dragging your core against the thick tent wrapped in denim, brows knitting together. the fabric is so rough that the grinding sends deep jolts of fleeting pleasure straight through the nerves you’re taunting, and your fingers and toes twitch each time, muscles tightening. “F—fuck me already…”

Mammon smirks; the eager begging and the way you just have to grind against him, soaking a patch of his jeans darker than the rest that smelled just like you— marking him as yours only makes him want to torment you more.

but his greediness stands as an obstacle, too, because he’s eager to feel you from the inside just as you’re eager to take him.

“You’re so desperate,” he murmurs, watching your hips oscillate. twinkling and devious eyes flicker up to see the way your eyelids flutter when you rub the right spot, “you’ll use any part of me you can, as long as it grinds so nicely into that greedy, little cunt, huh? Like a hungry, wild animal?”

and when you nod, he scoffs— incredulous at how sultry and shameless you are.

[mystra-midnight]

Dark Paradise

summary: geralt was all-consuming, invading every one of your senses; somehow, he'd snaked his way beneath your skin and between your ribs before burrowing into your heart. he lived there now, and you couldn't breathe without him.

warnings: 18+ only. breeding kink. overstimulation. mentions of multiple orgasm. name calling; slut. dom!geralt.

words: 1k.

notes: no one will ever convince me that geralt is a soft man. he is all strength, and arrogance, and hard muscles. and he will dominate his woman. admittedly this is shorter then i wanted it to be, and maybe not my best work, but i do hope you enjoy.

If ever there was something to be grateful for, it was this: being able to fuck his woman raw without the fear of an unwanted pregnancy. Having you naked beneath him was everything Geralt wanted—to watch your velvet walls stretch around his cock's girth, to feel your body tremble as he rocked his hips against your ass, to watch your cum mixed with his be forced from your tight hole with each brutal thrust.

You knew, completely and irrevocably, that there was no chance of falling pregnant with Geralt of Rivia. The trials had made him sterile, though you boiled fennel and drank it regularly to be certain. Your mother taught you from the eve of your first bleed to protect yourself against others, to trust no one but yourself, and that having a child with the wrong man could lead your life to ruin.

But tonight he had come to your cottage on the outskirts of the village in a foul and angry mood, with snarling tongue and gnashing fangs. He refused to tell you what had happened as he forced you down to your knees. All he'd wanted was your naked body beneath him.

"Geralt." Your voice quivered and rose to a crescendo when he speared through the satin clutch of your cunt and hit the sweet spot that sent your eyes spinning. Geralt of Rivia was not a small man—not in any sense of the word. He was tall and impossibly strong. His eyes were intense, and his hair was the colour of starlight. With broad shoulders and a myriad of scars along his body, he was every woman's fantasy.

And he refused to treat you with fragility. To him, you were not a damsel in distress. So he fucked like he fought, with teeth and tongue, and in every position. "I-I can't. S'too much."

Your thighs trembled under the lingering force of the three orgasms Geralt had pulled from the depths of your soul—on his fingers, tongue, and cock. Another one would surely kill you; you would float away from your body and away from him, never to return. But the idea of him filling you again was heavenly and impossible to deny—not when he dominated you so beautifully.

"You can," he grunted, his voice a rough growl. Geralt followed a bead of sweat that dripped down your spine with the tip of his tongue, leaving your sweat-slick skin goosepimpled. His hand followed the same path until he gripped the nape of your neck and pressed you into the mattress, keeping you cemented in place as he filled into you again. “You can, because I’m not stopping.”

Geralt knew that you wouldn't reply—at least not verbally. The impact of his hips against your ass was brutal, forcing the air from your mouth in pretty moans. The clutch of your cunt was more than enough of an answer. He smeared his lips along your shoulder as he shadowed over you like a terrible, haunting visage. The angle made it seem as though he was in your guts, rearranging your organs.

"That's a good girl," he cooed against your skin, his tone positively mocking. "Now, you stay right there while I fuck a baby into you. That's what my slut wants, isn't it? To be swollen with my child?"

He turned feral and ferocious in a flash, ruthlessly rutting into you. He drove you to the brink of yet another orgasm as you clawed at the sheets. Between whoreish moans, your walls tightened around him, leaving you gasping for air. A familiar warmth moved through your aching limbs and raced through your blood while a thunderstorm roared behind your ears.

"Geralt. Geralt, please, I can't. I can't—oh, fuck. There, r-right there." You babbled mindlessly. You felt lost in the sensation of his hands grabbing here, there, and everywhere. You felt lost in the sting of his teeth and tongue and how he tasted your skin. You felt lost in the pressure of his fingers and how he left bruise-shaped prints everywhere he touched.

"Right here?" He demanded. His fingers dug into the curve of your hips as he pulled you back to meet his pelvis, the sound of wet skin connecting echoing loudly in the small cottage. You squirmed and keened when he hit that sweet spot. "Is this what my slut needed—to feel me this deep?"

You didn’t hear him over the thunderstorm, which had grown into a deafening roar that blocked out the world. And as your vision went white, the pressure snapped, and a bolt of lightning sparked a wildfire in your blood. You felt like you were burning alive; the air in your lungs was superheated, and nothing could cool it. You came hard, screaming his name as he held you in place.

Geralt held you tightly, fingerprint bruises decorating your skin while galaxies burst to life inside your veins. The warmth of your cunt was divine, a heavenly caress as he rutted into you, chasing his own release as he threw his head back. "There you go," he grunted. He slapped your ass just hard enough to get your attention. "You're such a good slut. Does it feel good cumming for me while I breed you?"

You still couldn't answer him; each thrust knocked the air from your lungs, leaving your mouth open as you gasped, squealed, and wriggled in his grasp. Geralt didn't seem to mind. With a final thrust, he buried himself. His hand in your hair held you in place and tinged your scalp with a pleasurable sort of pain as the last of your orgasm ebbed away, leaving your clit throbbing in time with your heartbeats.

It was a welcomed feeling when his release painted your walls—a feeling that made your brain foggy. And despite the haze clouding your thoughts, you knew in that moment you would give yourself to this man. Not only your heart, but your body as well. You knew that if there was a way, you would give him what he wanted, and you would let him breed you.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Vil, Jack: a Strength that Shines

Ayyy, it’s the childhood friends (?) from the Shaftlands!! It feels like forever since we last got any significant interactions between Vil and Jack. Nice to see them chatting again~

bdjwvsjsGuabs THAT GROOVY THOUGH… Vil looks so judgmental and dismissive 😭 Channeling all his Mean Girl energy to diss Neige Snow White, lol

A Tale as Old as Time.

Four sides drew together to form a glittering box. A lovely maiden rested within the coffin-like casing of the photo frame. Her lips as red as blood, her hair as dark as ebony, and her skin as fair as snow.

She was circled by foliage, her sun-dappled face tilting up, disarmed by some distant call. The girl cupped her dainty hands together, housing a small baby blue bird in her palms. Kindness, goodness, grace—she exuded all of them.

Vil scoffed, tossing golden hair over his shoulder. Her smile was reminiscent of a rival celebrity, one pure as a dove's feathers.

So carefree, so cheery.

How irritating, he sighed.

"One ought to be more cautious in the woods. Who knows what dangers might lurk nearby, wishing to enact harm upon her.

"For a glamour shot though... Hmm, yes. This composition is acceptable. The sunlight is angled upon her face in a pleasing way—it casts a golden glow on her pale visage and highlights the highest points: cheeks, nose, chin, and forehead. The impression is one of total innocence.”

A soft grunt sounded from beside him.

"She's... shining," Jack commented plainly. His critique, clipped. “Didn’t you do a photo shoot like this recently? Similar place and everything.”

Vil’s beauty was momentarily marred by a grimace. “Yes, as promotional material for an upcoming film. However, the feel of it was completely different than what you see here.”

Shadows instead of sunlight. Temptation in the place of innocence.

He, poised amid the creeping branches and dark leaves, a tatter cloak clinging to his curves. A single, crimson apple in his grasp, a sultry look directed at the camera.

He tried to picture himself like the girl in the frame countless times over. Kneeling among the woodland creatures, smiling so serenely. Any pro could pull it off—he included.

But the image never turned out right in his mind.

Not the right amount of sweetness, not natural enough.

Not quite the same.

Not at all.

Blood, sweat, tears. Sacrifices made at the altar. Yet still, the world yielded nothing but broken promises and shattered dreams. The splintered parts and shambles of them, he gathered, forming his own makeshift hope and determination.

He couldn’t give in here.

Vil’s perfectly groomed brows scrunched up.

“I shall have to endeavor to work even harder. I’m not satisfied with things as they are now.”

“Heh.” Jack cocked a small, lopsided grin. “Keeping on the grind… That’s just like you. You've got this."

“Obviously. Nothing will get accomplished otherwise.” Vil’s eyes passed over to the beastmen. “Presumably, you are doing the same."

"Yeah. Haven't skipped a day of my training regimen." Jack slapped a hand on his bicep, which fit snuggly in his glittering white sleeve. "We'll take out RSA next track and field meet!"

"I'd certainly hope so. If I am to taste sweet revenge, I'd prefer it be by my own hand... but I trust you to deliver in my place. I expect good news when next we speak. Do not disappoint me."

"Yessir!" Jack's tail wagged enthusiastically. He stood alert, saluting like a loyal knight. “I'll do my best!"

“Then it looks as though we both have our long-term goals set.” The dorm leader planted his hands on his waist—slim, cinched.

"Yours is...?"

"To surpass myself." Vil jerked his chin toward the girl in the painting. "To shine so brightly that my name not only goes down in history, but overshadows that which was written before."

"That's some big dream you have." Jack shook his head. "The scale's beyond what I can imagine. But knowing how stubborn you are, Vil-senpai... You seriously won't quit until you make that dream come true."

"My, my. Stubborn, am I?" He smirked, arms crossed. "I do believe it takes one to know one.

"You stand back and watch. I'll show you just how dazzling I can be."

His eyes held a steeliness to them. It was matched only by the same in Jack’s. Two strong men and their wills, meeting on equal grounds.

Jack simply nodded—an acknowledgment, an acceptance, of his upperclassman’s confidence. Overwhelming, like a powerful wave, a strong storm, a blazing inferno. He almost felt compelled to drop to one knee, to kneel before such a presence.

Vil turned away from the painting, his arms unraveling from one another. His movements were graceful, nearly ballet-like. And his expression—

Jack caught him mid-laugh. The snooty, airy kind, half-sincere, half-sarcastic. Brows upturned, mouth twisted in a faux sympathetic smile. Flaxen waves framing his lovely features.

His lips moved.

“I’ll topple you from your throne,” Vil vowed.

It was then that Jack noticed.

Vil-senpai's shining like the fair maiden.

[wishfulfilled]

「tomie vaunt」

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“Do you really think you’ll stumble on another girl as beautiful as I?”

“But compared to my beauty you’re not even on the scale.”

“Surely those blessed with beauty such as mine have a responsibility to record it before it slips away forever.”

“You think this silly thing captures even a tenth of my beauty?”

“This is just the start of how pretty i can get.”

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my beauty is beyond human comprehension, even though people desperately want to capture it thru music, paintings and sculptures. when people see me they want to decide their entire life to try to encapsulate my allure, gracefulness and magnetic aura. to no avail, i cannot be copied, even the greatest artists wouldn’t be able to even come close to replicating my enchanting, dreamy and surreal visage.

i love myself so much i could look in the mirror for hours on end. absolutely no one and nothing can compare to me. i am prettier then all of the stars in the sky combined, even more beautiful then the most perfect scenery god has bestowed upon earth. it’s like i come from another planet, another universe. no, surely someone as perfect as me must be a gift from god straight from heaven.

i value myself highly and never underestimate myself because i know how powerful i am. i know that i am intelligent, strong and perfect in every possible way. i am very respected and my presence is intimidating, hypnotising and absolutely unforgettable. my aura is intoxicating, addicting and i am not afraid of being myself and i know that everyday i keep evolving and improving mentally, spiritually and emotionally. my personality is extremely charming and people are naturally attracted to me. i only need my own validation.

once people see me they are unable to forget me, people trip over their feet to try and compliment me. when they finally approach me they are so in awe of how even more perfect i am when up close that they suddenly are at a loss of words. people constantly shower me with gifts, write poems about their undeniable love for me and yet it seems like they believe that they will never be able to express their undying love no matter what they do.

when someone looks at me it feels all though all their problems and worries suddenly washed away and they cannot think about anything else then me and how to make me happy. when i give someone even the slightest bit of attention they get filled with bliss, gratefulness. but it’s expected i mean i am completely irresistible and my beauty is undefinable.

no one and nothing can ever compare to me. it simply isn’t possible to surpass my level of knowledge, allure and everything comes so easy for me, it’s like everything is rigged in my favour and i truly don’t have to put in any effort, everything falls into place for me while i just exist being my perfect self. i am healthy, protected and i only have positive experiences. i know myself and i am secure with who i really am, i always get opportunities that lead me to fulfilling my dreams.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

[archeolcgist]

[disasteregyptologist]

aesthetic / the golden trio / evelyn, rick & jonathan - mutuals may reblog

[themotherofblood]

Ruie, my dear, I was re-reading "The Dragon and The Dancer" and if you are still writing/accepting requests can I get a prequel(before the events of "laut ke ajana") where she dances for Daemon (with some nsfw) please?

ugh first of all, I hope your pillow is always cold, your charger cords never break and may you find money on the streets just for funsises.

second of all!!! Saaiyan Hatto Jao would be such a fitting song, of Dancer seducing Daemon so let’s go!

Daemon Targaryen x Martell!Wife!Reader

tw: exhibitionism? kinda misogynistic but bare with me pls 🤭 clit play, fivesome(kinda), breeding kink, humiliation, oral m and f receiving. mf(fff), mentions of underage stuff ekkk

main masterlist

In whatever capacity Daemon had within himself to restrain himself from his pretty wife was surely a bravery the Maesters ought to write in books. He had graced the courts of Lys multiple, multiple times. That's where he’d found Mysaria all those years ago. She was a whore, and dancer but a whore. He visited the city twice in his youth, in all his glory mounted open the ominous visage that was Caraxes yet not once was he esteemed enough to watch the infamous courtesans of Lys. Those women, wretched but entrancing women who invited the ones their hearts pleased, unlike any other establishment that would let in anyone with a coin to throw.

Imagine his surprise when an enticing swan from that very establishment had been under his nose this entire time, part of him cursed himself for not seeing it earlier. Something of such enchanting breeding couldn’t have simply come from the loins of Qoren Martell, and knowing your parentage was from Lys. If you weren’t already an insatiable spirit, Daemon pawed at your skirts even more now. He knew that the matter of you dancing was rather sensitive since your mother’s passing and he would never impose himself onto you otherwise.

Yet it couldn’t help taunt the perverse within him, such was the beauty of the Lysenees courtesans. To entice a man wild with just the melody of their voices and the ancient craft of their dance. Many a man with pockets deep enough to raise kingdoms lost their prospects at the doorsills of these bewitching girls.

You spoke of it at length with him once, sat in a warm bath overlooking the sunset, how esteemed of a pupil you were and come of age, your introductory performance had carriages lined for ten streets. Should the time have come, you might have even become the Madam of the establishment with age. The more you excelled in your art the more you feared of never leaving that place like your mother had wished for you. You not once loathed dancing, you hated the politics— you hated how wars began at the backs of courtesans partaking in spying against the very lords they once served to backstab and plot away at every chance they got for their survival. You rather missed the morning singing lessons and the sounds of your sister's anklets running up and down the halls.

“You keep such things from me,” Daemon muttered against your bare shoulder, peppering kisses up to your “You sing?”

You nodded, lifting your head to look at him with a sheepish smile.

It wouldn’t take a lunatic to envision your sweet voice singing away… singing just for him. He tried, he tried so very hard to not let his twitch cock at the thought of it, he was sure you felt it.

“What am I to do with you.” He groaned.

For a wish he had dreamt of since he was near seven and ten, no amount of gold named to the second Targaryen prince would get him inside that establishment, not after he had claimed Caraxes— a magnanimous beast that could burn all those witches in there all at once and not even after aiding the Free Cities with its odd brawls with one another.

And here the damned gods had blessed him with his wish, perched upon his lap. Eager to please him, vowed to obey and be with him till death do them part. Curious how the world worked.

You were no fool, like an animal in rut you had felt Daemon’s demeanour change since the day he discovered you were an untouched courtesan and caught you dancing in the Mirrored Palace alone. You were no stranger to the allure and aura that followed from being who you were, or who your performative personality is.

There is no harm done you thought, you had no joy in dancing for the men at court yet the sound of perhaps performing— truly performing for your lord husband seemed titillating.

It was the conditioning perhaps, to have a noble lord claim a courtesan all to himself, it showed one of two things. A lord with immensely fat pockets or a woman worth nearly a kingdom and its cavalry.

What were you worth? A fucking dragon-lord, a kingdom can’t be worth much if it’s ash. With your children most likely inheriting dragons too, you would by comparison must have outshone all your sisters back in Lys. Such fortune all for a pretty song and the swaying of one’s hips.

When Daemon had told you about is escapades in Essos, especially of how many times the poor prince had tried to gain an audience at your former court. You internally giggled at the picture of a young Daemon clamouring like the rest with gifts and praises to win the attention of your house Madam at the time. Even when he returned with a dragon he was barred, and it wasn’t unusual. Your Madam enjoyed playing with fire, toying with how far she could push men just to catch a glimpse of one of her girls.

Come to think of it, she might have been trying to grasp for an invitation to the Old King’s court, set up an establishment in King’s Landing. But one thing you’d learned from the stories Daemon told you about King’s Landing. Much of the courtesan's work would be polluted by the lack of affection for its craft.

You couldn't deprive him so, not when he paid you handsomely, ravishing your body each night like a silent prayer. Even having seen you, felt you and taught you things that would go beyond the means of a courtesan’s work. You saw the passion in his eyes when he’d find you fixing your ghungroos or humming under your breath as you worked on your needlepoint. The tests of a true Madam now laid at your feet, not only to devise an elaborate function for your dear husband but to be discreet and the most essential part of it all, for you to be perfection.

You’d pick the night of the coming full moon, you knew your father would have grumbled himself to his chambers rather early, the change in tides somehow always made him ill. Your sisters would all be abed, Daemon’s daughter’s too. The commendable part were your lady’s maids, pussyfooting away orders of flowers from Pentos, the special vials of rose oil from Qarth, at least a hundred candles to light up the arched viewpoint at the Watergardens. Daemon’s favourite foods to be prepared along with fine strong wines from the Old Palace cellars.

The intricacies of this function had been handled with such care and secrecy, that it made you consider moving into the manse your father had gifted you after your wedding for some privacy. Surely, a married— happily married couple engaging in salacious acts with one another shouldn't be unexpected. Lastly your lehenga, unlike the ones you usually wear, was truly a magnificent piece made by the dressmaker. A black velvet blouse with a dangerously low neckline and shoulder embroidered with dragons of red and gold threads, a lighter skirt of silk with heavy gold embroidery and embellishments and a chiffon embellished shawl that did nothing to hide your figure.

Another ruse was set up to hide your true schemes, a quaint supper with just you and Daemon being entertained by folk singers sent by Yi Ti.

The evening had been rather splendid, Daemon had no interest in listening to some fucks sing about in a tongue he understood not, but when his sweet wife insisted upon spending the evening together: he couldn't deny you.

He suspected that you were up to something, with supper being prepared, dishes lined up one after the other which were all those he shamelessly indulged in, the rather aged wine that you had been consuming a little too much of. He did not mind, either way, fucking his wife tonight sober or a sweet slobber mess— all was well in the world. After what seemed like a while, Daemon finally felt at ease, calm with a purpose that he belonged, with his daughters and you.

“Excuse me, dearest.” you whispered against his ear, smiling before pecking his cheek “I’ll be back.”

Daemon smiled back, watching you rise from the floored cushions that the both of you nested on, his eyes very shamelessly admiring your backside and the curves of your hips as you walked back into your quarters. He marvelled at the thought of ripping that very lovely maroon gown of your body. The colour change had been a sudden shock to him when you fluttered your way into the sparring wards in a Dornish gown painted in the dark crimson of his house’s colour. Rest assured the sparring continued later in the evening and the gown alas did not survive.

You had slipped out easily, just as the doors closed behind you, the lot of you bolted the opposite direction to your privy and down the hallways, skirts hiked up as you used your other hand to free your hair of the loose Westerosi braids they were in. Your maids ran with you, two of them already waiting by the Watergardens along with the the whore dancers you had acquired all outfitted in white and the esteemed musicians that played at every one of your events.

Hiding behind the thick shrubbery, your maids hastily stripped you off your gown and small clothes and replaced them with the ensemble made for tonight. You prayed to the gods while calming your breath from all that running, let it be perfect. The four girls would greet Daemon upon his arrival, even though they would be a finer treat than most men have had in this lifetime, you were another anthology entirely.

Daemon had been given his first clue after the Yi Ti performers had finally ended their never-ending song.

“The princess awaits you in the Watergardens, my prince.” the attendant had informed before scurrying away.

Whatever this was, Daemon was truly intrigued seemingly obeying his wife and heading straight out of the gardens without any delay. The show that greeted him there however had him taken aback for a moment, the garden pillars decorated in blossoms and twinkling candles scattered across the stairs leading to the arches. He could hear the mellow music and the serene sound of flute dancing along with the crashing waves.

Just like a dream come true, he was greeted by the sound of ghungroos— a sound he had grown accustomed to. Four girls rushed towards him, lifting their hands to their faces and bowing.

“Good evening, my prince.” one of them spoke.

“We have longed for your arrival, your grace.” said the other. Reaching forward for Daemon’s hand.

At any other time he might have pulled away, but this was surely orchestrated by his wayward wife. He could feel her around but couldn't see, and these girls— preening up at him like willing, wanting whores, they were no courtesans. He played along, letting them drag him along to the shore view where an elaborate arrangement awaited him. An old fire in him arose when his reputation had been so palpable at the many brothels across the Known World. Two of them pushed him onto the plush sete, giggling as one of them plops right next to him.

“Would you like some refreshments, my prince.” One of them said with a bunch of grapes in her hand, the other poured him a glass of wine. The third took her time feeling Daemon up, he thoroughly enjoyed this but longed for his wife— his courtesan. One of them began to unbutton the tops of his doublet, soft fingers trailing across his chest.

His sexual frustrations and anticipation began to pivot to a perverse ire, to find you hiding somewhere and reprimand you with your arse red for teasing him so.

That is when the sound of a heavier set of ghungroos echoed around the arches, there you were. Your glowing face against the moonlit sky and candles, you walked towards, body covered in a thick black shawl. The girls around him lifted their skirts and ran towards you, positioning themselves. Then came the music, a smirk so prominent settled itself on Daemon’s lips as his lifelong dream had now stood in fruition before him.

You seductively, inch by inch let the black shawl drop until it fell to the ground, looking at the shawl and suggestively looking up at your husband. You twirled thrice forward, ending right by Daemon’s legs and lowered yourself. He knew not of what you sang but it was as though a witch chanted spells to bind him to you.

The song you sang was one of innocence, a sweet girl begging her lover to let her return home— for the higher the moon rose in the sky her reputation hung by a thread. Ever so seductively telling him to stay away because she knew his true desires were so very impure.

Stay away my love, I know what you desire

You reached for the rose tucked in your blouse, reaching lower to gesture at your ghungroos, giving Daemona a rather exposed view of your bosom. You acted as if his looking had offended you and flicked the rose at him, you stood to continue your routine still singing without a note or beat missed. You knew within that you were perfection, it is what you were trained for from birth. This one performance should have costed half of Pentos, but look upon Daemon’s eyes was payment enough for you.

Night fades to dawn my love, please let me go home

You pulled your shawl of your head and down you your shoulder, toying with it around your cleavage. Eyebrows suggestively scrunched at Daemon, making him kiss the rose you gave him and throw it back at you which you caught with ease, letting the petal graze upon your cheek and then your lips lowering it further down the sides of your torso and tucking it this time at the lining of your skirt. You turn your back towards him swaying you hips as you walked away, turning once to wink at him and continuing to walk until the hardest part of the number began.

The percussion beats could never be missed by your feet, in a performative haze you smiled at the three dancers who also did an extraordinary job at keeping up with you. You turned one last time.

My mother and sister by law shall poke, where had I been, my love. I will die of embarrassment

You walked towards him this time, an exaggerated sway in your hip as you pulled your shawl out from your skirt lining and let it fall to the floor, you turned once more, performatively reaching for the back strings of your blouse and pulling them to mimic a sensual morning stretch. You turned towards your husband who had settled himself further into the cushion.

You kept singing as he reached his hand out, you took it letting him pull you onto his lap. Your soft finger held his face as you kept singing, leading his face towards your neck and he wasted no time in peppering kisses down your collarbone. You pushed him back there after which startled him, you could feel the hardened mound under his breeches— your payment.

Stay away my love, I know of what you desire.

Daemon had enough, still letting you finish your song, your eyes and eyebrows still expressing away your performative feelings as he reached for your Nath and removed it, a significant indication of deflowering a young courtesan.

Your song ended as you sat straddled upon Daemon’s lap, you gaze never left his— like you were another person entirely. Daemon relished in how he intimidated you, how shy and small you were around him, how receptive but innocent you remained even when he taught you to pleasure him and yourself in bed. Yet this woman sat atop him, you were someone else.

“Was it everything you ever dreamed of, my prince.” Your whispered, your hands caressing his face.

Daemon for a moment couldn’t find his words, that’s when you snapped from your performance growing anxious from the silence. You were about to pull away when Daemon abruptly spun you down onto the cushion so he lay towering over you, caging you under his broad build.

“How am I to pay you, my lady,” he said, wanting to rip the clothing off your body but he looked behind to still see the four girls standing.

“They are yours tonight my prince,” you nervously, your aura slipping back to the former “As am I.”

At that Daemon held no restraint and laid siege upon your body, he figured the lasses could still dance as Daemon would take you apart under the moonlit sky.

You held nothing back, arching your back onto the onslaught of Daemon’s lips. Letting your fingers feel the remaining buttons of his doublet and pushing them off his shoulder. This time you pushed back, the heat on your cheeks so apparent for you’d never thought to be so forthcoming in bed before, Daemon always held the reins, placing you in positions he liked, teaching you ways to pleasure yourself.

Daemon grunted for a moment, fighting against the push of your hands before giving in, letting you lay him back down once more. You straddled him once more, this time slipping back into the seductive performance you’d laid out for him. Smiling down at him as you slipped your blouse off, slowly— inch by inch before dropping it next to you.

Daemon’s lips parted in a gasp, though his cockiness would credit his lessons for confidence in this matter. He was further crazed by how much you appeared to be enjoying doing this. He couldn't help himself, reaching up to tweak at your left nipple. You began to roll your hips against the hardening of his breeches, your bare cunt under your skirt pressed at the girth giving you just a small burst of pleasure.

You did Daemon of his tunic, your fingers tracing his battle scars as you reached lower, letting your lips press against his warm skin— letting yourself inch lower and lower as you shuffled off him.

You both yearned greatly for one another, nearly four moons into your marriage and the passions you shared for one another only seemed to reach further heights with each passing day. A fire that Daemon had lit within you burned so bright for him every day. One might think you were born to be with him, obey him.

Daemon watched as you undid his pants, pulling them down his legs and not once leaving his eyes, you were an ethereal sight, bare-chested with his gifted jewels shining at your neck— so prepared to service him. You reached for his cock and that's when he stopped you.

His hands trailed to your head of wild hair, gently tugging at it. “You want my cock?” he said. Eyes wild and waiting for your response.

You meekly nodded, sticking your tongue out just as he taught you to. Wasting no time further he pushes your mouth onto his cock, letting your head bob and suction at his length. You worked your tongue around his cock, the taste of him so familiar in your mouth. You whimper as he pushes in further breaching the back of your mouth and making your eyes water.

“Who would have thought it hmm, the finest girl Lys could offer kneeled like a whore for me” his words falsely degrading you sending shockwaves straight to you your core.

You whimper, this time willingly taking him deeper feeling your throat want to constrict as you pull up for air— he however stops you briefly before giving you relief. A string of salvia lingering on your lips. He wiped at the tears polling around the corner of your eyes.

“Take the rest of it off girl,” he demanded, eyes ravenous and impatient.

You gathered your bearing before standing once more, pulling at the waist string of your skirts with no haste to tease him yet again. You let your skirt fall as you caught onto the rose still tucked at your waistline. You kissed it and threw it at him. Every look, every action towards you seemed to have been pooling your cunt wet.

Daemon grunted, yanking you back onto him. His lips smacked against yours once more as he took a harsh hold of your tit with one hand while the other held you here. His actions were voracious, seducing your soul rather than your body.

You took matters into your own hands, unable to keep up with this game any longer and reached for his cock— gently rubbing the tip at you folds before lowering yourself onto him.

Daemon groaned into your mouth as you gasped, having never felt him so deep, you held onto his shoulder fingernails digging in.

“You're so deep,” you whispered, your breath hitching as you adjusted to the intrusion.

His fingers dug into the flesh of your arse pulling you further down and full of him. You felt so close, so one with him. You began to grind your hip, your neck cranked as Daemon’s head dipped lower to kiss your shoulders and up your neck.

“Such a fine prize aren't you, tell me how do I pay you?” he said bucking his hips up into you making you sqwak.

“D-dragonseed… I want your babes.” you whispered, head hanging in a wanting shame.

Daemon smirked, he had forever hoped to make you swell of his children but he never knew your sweet mind craved to be bred.

“Go on then, take what you want.” he rested back on to his elbows, bucking his hips once more to coerce you to keep going.

You rested a hand on his torso using it as leverage to lift your hips to bounce into his cock. Your snug cunt milking him to fill you. Your smaller legs weren't enough to lift you that far off his cock, but you tried nonetheless. Daemon reached for your cunny, his thumb began to rub circles onto your clit sending you into a frenzy— riding him with far more determination.

It felt good, so very good.

“How does it feel darling? How does it feel riding a dragon.”

You let out a strained giggle at that, still unable to help your childish mind. You kept riding him, Daemon’s lips restraining a smile too at your ill-timed humour. Earning you a sharp smack on your left tit.

“It feels so good, so deep.”

Your hips found a steady rhythm against Daemon’s fingers at your bundle of nerves. Your each bounce ore eager than the one before. Your tits bobbing and calling for equal attention from Daemon.

“My prince!”

You moaned, feeling that pinnacle ever so close as you chased it.

“I’m all yours,” you said unprovoked “a courtesan trained just for you.”

Daemon nearly lost his bearings at that, pinching your nipple harder. Seven Hells— he knew you were made just for him.

“Say it again.”

“I was born to be your c- courtesan.” you cried, feeling so very close to completion.

Your thighs begin to shudder, he can feel them clenching— he lets go of your breast and grabs your hips in aid to feel you gush around him. A sudden pitched cry leaves your mouth as you tremble your bouncing coming to a halt as you fight to hold yourself up but Daemon’s fingers on your bundle of nerves don't stop.

He abruptly flips you over, readjusting you within a blink of an eye. Your bare body facing the dancers as Daemon’s solid wet-length rested on the curve of your ass.

“We could get your money’s worth,” he suggested nipping at your ear lobe, his demeanour shifted to the one of you loving husband. “We needn't—”

“I trust you.” you looked up at him, chest still heaving from your peak before and yet you always wanted more of him, more of his depravities.

So many fantasies, much to do.

He gestured them forward knowing they would take much time to shed their clothes, they were whores trained to dance.

All three of of them vulgarly bowed, giggling amongst themselves.

“My prince.” The chorus of their voice followed as they began their performance to reach for him.

He tutted— he’d die happy if he died tonight.

“Not me, her.” He ordered.

You looked back up at him, a curious flare in your eyes that was met with his top protruding at your sloppy opening once more.

The girls entirely shifted their attention onto you.

“Mhmm you have such lovely tits princess.”

“Such soft skin.”

“Such a fine figure, your grace.”

Daemon pushed into you once more, groaning and resting his head onto your shoulder. His palm curled around you neck pulling your back against his shoulder. He knew of the explosive pleasure you were about to discover, even more joy was that he would be the one giving it to you, a fine reward for my girl, the fruits of the lovely exhibition you'd put on for him.

He began fucking into you, small grunts and exhales lingered by your ear and what followed from there on had your mind scattered.

One whore settled on suckling your nipples, twisting and toying with the other. One muffled your moans with her lips upon yours. Your cunny was already sensitive but then you felt a sensation you never had before. The third girl kneeled by the nest and began to lick your bud.

“D— Daemon!”

The sensation so overwhelming you began to pull away, Daemon curled other arm firm around your torso to keep you in place as he continued rut into you.

“Feels good doesn’t it, my love?”

You could barely speak but you nodded, eyes shut feeling yourself so lost in every touch. One of the whores disappeared behind you, settling herself under Daemon to service his heavy stones.

He watched as the whores played with your tits, he too reach further up to tweak a pebble harshly between his fingers. You gasped at the burn of pain. The whore sucking at your teat came to your defence.

“Gentle my prince, breaking a thing so pretty isn’t fair”

“Not this one, her cunt is squelching around me.” he groans.

“Its true!” the girl by your cunt giggles.

Your cheeks burned in shame, they spoke of you like you weren't around. The whore licking your bud pushed at your folds to leave it exposed as she suckled and licked and rubbed away. Daemon’s cock fucked you raw from within and you felt it once more, hurtling towards.

“Go on, wet my cock my love.” he grunted fucking you harder.

His peak chased after as you broke first, gushing around his cock as you screamed his name. Legs and arms shuddering as Daemon grunted to completion himself, ropes of his spent coated your walls. You could feel the warmth within, nearly forfeited by your sensations. He held your body so close, recovering himself as he shooed the whores away.

Letting you collapse in the nest first and then himself. Laying soft kisses at your shoulder, still firmly holding your hand to ground you.

“Well done, my love.”

You lazily smiled at him, dazed in euphoria as you rubbed your feet against his calves.

“What have I done for fortune.” He whispered against your temple.

You shrugged at him, leaning forward to kiss him once more. “I hope you are pleased with my performance?”

Daemon shook his head, begging mesmerized by you. He let his hand rest at your belly.

“If giving you all this love,” he kissed your cheek. “My dragonseed,” he pressed onto you belly. “Isn’t indication of how very pleased I am sweet girl.”

Then you heard a high pitched squeal from the skies, clicks and then the rustle of trees around you. “Then perhaps I should show you what being a dragon feels like.”

Caraxes burst through the horizon behind your circling the skies as he lowered himself onto the white beach. You looked at Daemon puzzled, as he pulled you up to dress you.

“What are you doing?” You huffed putting your blouse back on.

“You want to have my children, it might be time that you grew accustomed to Caraxes.”

You kept dressing yourself to mask the fear that was coursing through your veins. I dance for him and he plans to kill me. You could barely muster the courage to be even ten feet around Moondancer and that beast was a babe. Caraxes is a behemoth, he protects your husband— he told you how the two of them were two halves of whole. It never made sense to you.

“Don’t be scared, halves of a whole remember?” he said as he bent down to lift you up by you back and legs once you finished dressing.

You’d rid yourself of your ghungroos just to not startle the beast.

“I love you, care for you. Therefore he does too.”

You weren’t sure about how sure he was about said theory. Yet you let him carry you to the beaches below where Caraxes sat waiting, when you saw him it almost appeared as though he was playing with sand. Shaking his snout it the sand to bury it and then exhaling to have sand fly everywhere, followed by loud clicks.

“Is he— is he playing?” You asked your husband.

“Told you, he’s harmless.”

That beast also burned dozens of Dornish men but alright.

Just as Caraxes felt Daemon’s presence he chirped up even more, his long neck swaying in the wind. However it only took a moment for his demeanour to flip when he realized there was another. You froze in Daemon’s arms at the low grumble Caraxes let out.

“Dohaeras Caraxes!” Daemon lowly warned the beast.

Caraxes still look unsure but Daemon kept walking.

He put you down a few feet from the beast, don’t run— don’t run. You watched as Daemon walked towards Caraxes without a care in the world that his wife might get fried tonight.

“Konir sagon ñuha ābrazȳrys, ao gīmigon zirȳla syt izula hūra, keligon issare quba.” That is my wife, you have know about her for four moons. I told you.

Daemon sounded like he was scolding the dragon.

He turned to you “Come my love.”

You obeyed, talking small steps towards him. Towards his outstretched hand. Everything would be fine, you trusted him. Entirely— wholeheartedly, with your life.

Just until Caraxes turned his long neck and his snout just with a feet from you. You froze entirely once more, Daemon still petting Caraxes.

“Dohaeras,” he whispered, almost as if he spoke to a child.

Caraxes’s big nostrils flared, sniffing you a couple of time before chirping. Daemon chuckled, you relaxed for a moment until Caraxes gently used his snout to trip you backwards before once more burying his snout in the sand and deeply exhaling, burying you in a thick sheet of sand. Daemon couldn’t help but break into a fit of laughter

“Daemon!”

You were going to great friends he knew it.

eeee I had so much fun writing this. I totally imagine Caraxes kinda being like jealous Lilly from modern family lol

[chiliyue-archived]

Reflection

includes; dazai

tags; you are referred to as girl. I wrote this in 20 mins after the audacity that is chapter 109.

[bsd M.list] ♡

-

" look in the mirror and tell me who's my pretty girl." dazai hums, limbs wrapping around you and securing you flush against his chest. the bathroom felt terribly tiny in accommodating the pair of you, and his arms easily caged you in against the ceramic of the sink.

" don't wanna."

" i'm not going let you leave this bathroom until you do, 'bella." he grins reassuringly. " who's my pretty girl, hm?"

you could catch dazai's visage from the mirror's reflection; his body was practically sagging against you, chin propped on the crown of your head and eyes going aglow from the position. a complacent grin took hold of his features as he mindlessly flexed his fingers against your palms.

your attempts at cowering were futile as a pair of lanky fingers meticulously tilt your head back at the of furniture. you wanted to frown at his persistence. but it felt impossible to do so when dazai beams an oh so honest smile with love hearts where his irises should be. it easily made your chest turn into knots, adding empathsis to the radiating body heat that tickled along your spine.

" i don't think it's true." you squirm against his embrace, attempting to avoid his gaze. at the very least, the rubbing of bandaged arms at your sides exuded a form of comfort, providing a brief lapse at the vulnerability you found yourself in. and despite his unwavering commitment to the task at hand, the burnette remained patient, giving your sides reassuring shapes.

" don't be ridiculous, love," he chides gently. his words were coordinated as he shifts to card his fingers through your hair. he makes sure to give your scalp proper attention now and then as the digits meander around your head. " of course it's true."

his grin reduces to a frown when you reply with silence and he doesn't fail to take note of the way you became fidgety with your sleeves.

"c'mere." he moves your head to the side as he peppers kisses along your face. each one diffuses a form of comfort that eroded your walls and left you pilant to his ministrations.

he starts with your temples before tracing down with gravity to meet the edge of your chin, and you could feel him smile when you meekly whine in protest. if anything, your reply earned you a dozen more on your cheek alone and a stolen glance of fluttering eyelashes that pleaded with you silently.

" can't." your words were cut off as more saccharine kisses met the apples of your cheeks, outlining the counters of your face with renew interest.

" ah ah ah, that's not what i'm looking for." he grins, and his words reverbated against your cheek coaxing a giggle from you. the sound reaches his ears like soft bells, resonating and echoing a mantra within the tendrils of his mind.

after an interlude of plastering sloppy pecks around your face, you gave in with a pout. " okay okay. stop before before i change my mind," you giggle, frown dissipating as he places a final kiss to your lips proper. he swore his heart went aflutter when you shyly reciprocate a tiny smile in reponse.

" who's the pretty girl?" he meets your gaze through the mirror's reflections, a twitch pulling on his lips waiting and eager.

" …i'm you're the pretty girl," you mutter reluctantly, choosing to ignore the rush of blood to your face. the reaction only acted to accentuate the stirring that became pronounced within dazai's chest cavity, removing the barren quality he had come to know for so long.

wordlessly, his hands maneuvered to meet yours, twining together and offering a tight squeeze. his eyes stilled on the adjoin limbs before flickering back to your countenance. his gaze lingers even as you rest your head against his shoulder, the tip of his nose grazing your temples.

" a little louder, darling. i'm afraid i didn't hear it the first time." his voice took on a teasing trait, hot breath prickling your cheek in a show of mirth but his eyes betrayed a form of fondness that seeped into his antics.

dazai's coy smile widens at the glare you sent him, and he resists the temptation to chuckle when you playfully nudge him against the shoulder. "yes you did." you huff out in feign annoyance. "now you're just being selfish."

" i've always been selfish, 'bella, don't act so surprised."

" at least be better at faking it."

he takes pride in the way your grin doesn't falter even as the words leave you; pretty dimples gracing both sides of your face that captivate his attention. the sight fills him with an urgency to place kisses upon the areas; however, he can settle with this for now.

"no takebacks. okay?" you felt something press along your forehead, lips moving to recite his words. in the mirror's reflection, you catch the way he fixates an affectionate expression, departing you with a wave of honesty. " you're my pretty girl," he pokes at your cheek with his thumb. " don't doubt that."

-

I want to cry. this is probably the worst thing I've ever written but the emotions are going. dazai is okay, ik because he told me himself. chapter 109 isn't real, u r delulu

taglist; @eynnwwyjth @anqelically @seisitive @iheartpieck @seiiblue @averagebsdwatcher @solandiss @4nthonyyliving

be added or removed here !

[hittos]

𝐀𝐧 𝐄𝐲𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐀𝐧 𝐄𝐲𝐞 | 𝐘. 𝐎𝐤𝐤𝐨𝐭𝐬𝐮

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2k words 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: non con, forced breeding, mentions of cheating, mentions of bullying, abuse (lmk if I missed anything) 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Yuta thinks it's about time he gets even with his middle school bully. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is 3 days late because uhh umm *runs away*

You stared in disbelief at Yuta’s redoubtable and imposing visage. He was nothing like the skinny, wimpy kid you used to shove out the way and degrade as you please. He was much bigger now, his shirt fit tighter and his biceps were noticeably bulging, a far cry from his old self.

You felt intimidated in his presence, all you could think about was how easy it would be for him to overpower you as opposed to back then, “how have you been?” His eyes still remain pure, though now embellished with confidence and self assurance. He seemed kind still even after all you did to torment him in middle school.

“I’ve been well and you?” you answered, beginning to feel antsy as you study his angular face in the warm light of some shoddy coffee shop a few blocks from where you live, you had to admit he had gotten handsome over the years, seemingly getting his life together while yours was falling apart.

“Do you live around here?” he asked, his eyes showing no sign of resentment or hatred towards you, it was as if his memory of middle school was erased completely. If you didn’t know any better you might have seriously believed that, but if he remembered you then he remembered what you did. All you ever were to him was a tormentor, so it simply isn’t feasible to believe that he could divorce the memories of you from the misery you made him feel in middle school.

“Yeah, a few blocks away from here, actually” you smiled politely, praying he didn’t notice the streaks of dried tears on your face or at least have the courtesy not to bring it up, “that’s such a coincidence, i just moved in also a couple of blocks from here”

“Then you should know there’s a place that serves much better coffee about 10 minutes from here, if you’re willing to walk farther” you chuckled awkwardly, wanting nothing more than to walk into the nearest ocean and never resurface again. You wish he would look at you like you’re a piece of gum stuck under his shoe, to yell at you or to call you every curse word in every language in the world, but he didn’t. He was polite and friendly, which only worsened the guilt you feel watching him talk to you as if you’re old friends.

“Why don’t you show me around the neighborhood sometime?” the way he said it so nonchalantly, you almost wouldn’t believe he was subtly asking you out. You tried to mask the fluster in your face, he was almost unrecognizable now compared to his former self, “I don’t think my boyfriend would like that very much” you drowned out the voice of guilt in your head saying you owe him that much, opting instead to stupidly remain loyal to the boyfriend you knew good and well was cheating on you as you spoke.

“Number 47” the barista called to the busy space.

“That’s me, see you around, Yuta” you rushed to get your order, relieved that the conversation was over.

“I can walk you home if-” you didn’t wait for him to finish before turning down his offer, “oh don’t worry, this neighborhood is very safe besides i’m sure you have a lot on your plate,” you grabbed the cup from the counter and hurried to leave the situation, opting out of adding sugar like you normally would

You were relieved you left before he could press you about walking you home, you thought as tears began falling freely from your blurry eyes, occasionally a heave or a soft sniffle would sound from you, filling up the quiet, dark, and suspiciously empty road. You made a silent prayer that you won’t have to see your boyfriend fucking the newest girl of the week on your couch when you get home. You don’t think you’ll be able to take it.

You wish you could leave him, but you couldn’t afford to get your own apartment. Your boyfriend never missed a chance to remind you of that. Each time you caught him, his eyes would be unmoving and his tone harsh, “what are you going to do about it? Leave me? You know you can’t take care of yourself, you’re too stupid to” he would say as he watched you cry. You hated him so much and unbeknownst to you, so did Yuta.

Your mind was so engulfed in grief that you didn’t notice you were being followed closely, you didn’t notice Yuta enter your building right behind you and you didn’t feel him as he silently stood behind you waiting for you to fish the keys out of your purse and unlock your door.

You sighed in relief seeing your boyfriend’s shoes were missing before a callous hand slapped itself over your mouth and pushed you into the apartment, the force causing you to fall to the floor. Yuta locked the door immediately before turning to look at you with chiling, dark blue eyes, “Y-yuta? What are you doing here?” your eyes widened in fear, he could just cum in his pants from the sight alone, you on your knees before him, fear stricken eyes trained on his unflinching ones. Oh, how the tables have turned.

“You know what i’m here for” he kneeled down to your level, caging your body between his and the cold floor, his clothed, hard cock brushing up against your panty-clad pussy, “get off of me” you struggled against his weight, but he only let out a tsk at your fruitless attempts and slapped your weaker hands away from his broad chest.

His hand traveled down between your legs and ripped your panties in half with ease, your cunt was quickly getting wetter as your body anticipated the oncoming intrusion of his impressive cock and his novel display of strength, your gaze was unbroken on his hand as it quickly fidgeted to free himself from the rough material.

One of his hands pinned both your struggling arms on top of where he’s laid you down, the other was giving his dick a few pumps before he used it to collect the slick from your drooling hole and spread it along the length of your slit, paying close attention to the way your breath hitched each time his leaky cockhead caught your puffy clit. He pushed his cock past the tight confines, soon being greeted with your sticky insides, “oh, baby, all this for me?” he chuckled bitterly, his breath hit your skin like lava, “not your stupid cuck of a boyfriend?” tears were already falling down the apple of your cheek as your hands made contact with his face, digging your long nails into the delicate skin of his jaw.

To your dismay, this did little to dissuade him, in fact, the pain washing over him as you drew blood from his pale skin seemed to only drive him wilder, judging by the unhinged glare in his eyes, “do your worst, baby. I can fucking take it. I’m stronger now, i can protect you” his hips thrusted into you forcefully, punching a scream straight from your gut.

“You’re a fucking…” you grunted as you tried with all your might to push him off of you, but he is nothing like the frail boy you used to push around and laugh at till he’s in tears, he’s much stronger now and he’s much bigger, in more ways than one, you note how his cock stretches you out deliciously, wider than your deadbeat boyfriend ever could, “...creep, I hate you”

His hips picked up pace, rolling into you smoothly, as smoothly as he could with you thrashing around, resisting his love and affection, “you’ve still got a venomous tongue, i see” his hand snaked around your neck, restricting the air flowing to your lungs, “that’s fine” his eyes darkened, sending a shiver down your spine and making you think maybe you said the wrong thing at the wrong time, “I’ll just have to fuck it out of you”

In the flash on an eye, your legs were pushed up over his shoulder, his cock suddenly reaching much deeper inside you, before you can even make a plea for a moment to adjust to his size in this new position, his cock pistoned inside you at lightning speed, his length assaulting your cervix each time he buried himself inside you to the hilt.

Who would have thought that little, puny Yuta could make you scream around his dick. The same Yuta who avoided your gaze like you were medusa is now inches from your face, gripping your jaw, forcing your tear stained eyes to look at his cold and confident ones as he fucks you mercilessly. Pathetic, bitchboy Yuta is now holding your legs in place as your pussy creams around his length, making your body shiver as he continues to pound your tiny, abused pussy.

“You have no idea how long I wanted to have you spread out for me like this,” his sloppy kisses littered your sweaty body as tears continued to flow down your eyes, you tried to thrash your head, escaping his kisses. He brought down his flat palm against your ass in a firm spank, your hole clenched deliciously around him as you screamed out again, praying that your neighbors could hear or that they had already called the police, “you owe me after all the shit you put me through”

You threw your head back, trying desperately to search for the sound of the police siren or the flash of red and blue lights, but all you heard is the sound of skin slapping skin and the sloshing sound of your tight hole being desperately violated, the only thing you see is the mob of sweaty black hair rocking back and forth with his thrusts and a pair of dark blue eyes, almost black, filled with lust looking down at you as if you are prey.

“I’ve been watching you for a few years now” he confessed, as he peppered unwanted kisses on your defeated face, “I saw the way that asshole treats you,” his eyes bore into your unfocused ones as a second orgasm washes over you, “I can treat you better than him and i can make you happy” his voice quieted down to a whisper, he wasn’t sure if you even heard him or if your mind checked out some time ago. 

“Y’know, you’re ovulating” he grunted in your ear as his pace got faster and sloppier, your eyes widened as fear began to fester deep within you, somewhere his dick had already reached. Suddenly, your will to fight him off was restored, unfortunately, he was on the cusp of cumming already, the adrenaline giving him more strength to pin you down, not that he needed it, to deposit his sperm deep inside your fertile walls. He ignored your pleas and buried his cock to the hilt inside you. With a final shiver, his dick shot out rope after rope of cum, painting your cervix white, “I’ve been saving up just for you” he whispered in your ear before kissing the shell of it.

The gravity of what just happened only settles when he has already pulled out his soft cock from your aching hole, “why did you do this to me?” you screamed at him, anger and sadness rushed through you, “I have dreams and a life, how am i supposed to do that with a fucking baby?”

“You’ll be my wife, I'll always keep you nice and pregnant for me” he smiled at you fondly, your jaw slackened in disbelief.

“You ruined my fucking life”

“And you ruined mine” he interrupted your outburst coldly, “guess we’re even now”

“I hate you, i hate you, i hate you” a final wave of tears burst from your eyes, his hand bringing you over in a hug, allowing you to cry on his strong chest, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“It’s okay,” he whispered more to himself than you, “pregnancy will make you kinder”

[wonysugar]

i’ll wake you up | son hyeju

synopsis : she looked just like the moon.. maybe that’s why you took her gaze as an invitation to doze off.

pairing : stranger!hyeju x sleepdeprived!femreader

genre : fluffy! strangers to… NOT strangers? idk reader thinks hyeju is pretty

tags : subway, reader is TIREDDD, fluff, one shot, that’s basically it lmfao

word count : 1k (?)

12:29 am.

you thought that living so far away from your university was going to help romanticize your studies more, yknow! make you wanna glam up and actually wanna go on campus in the first place. turns out, after a couple of semesters, you were more than wrong,

and you realized that just now, especially since it’s, again, 12:29 am and you’re trying to get back home using public transport whilst also running on barely 2 hours of sleep!

being in this type of situation made you rethink your whole original thought process; romanticizing my ass, you thought, i don’t even have a car, who made me think getting into a university that far away from my home was a good idea??

as you pondered, you didn’t realize how your eyes seemed to close by themselves, almost like they were being forcefully shut tight by some invisible force; despite the numerous loud noises assaulting your ears, the ones that would prevent you from falling asleep in an average context, you were getting dangerously close to snoozing. you fought back and mentally slapped yourself to stay conscious, of course, not wanting to doze off in the middle of some practically empty subway, (especially not this late into the night). the thought of finally getting some rest, however, no mind the place, was very tempting. 

god, what you would’ve done to be in your bed at that moment.

as time passed, you were getting more and more absorbed by your own progressively ambiguous thoughts and felt your eyes get heavier, eventually falling deeper into a state of deep and extreme fatigue. 

it wouldn’t hurt to rest your eyes for a few minutes, right? you thought.

giving into the desire, you finally allowed your eyes to take a break and closed them, feeling almost immediate relief when you did.

until that relief turned into annoyance.

your eyes attempted to rest for what felt like only a small minute, the only thing preventing you from fully falling into a deep state of slumber being the movement of the transport and the stress of potentially missing your stop.

this was useless, only thing you could do was push through the whole ride and crash into your bed as soon as you get home.

when your eyes eventually fluttered back open, you raised your head back up and blinked away the sleepiness, allowing yourself to get used to reality, the setting and environment of the subway becoming familiar to you again. because, despite that break being short, it was enough for you to feel like you were dreaming. 

you cluelessly looked around, from the left to your right; the latter being the direction that your head was strangely leaning into. you were immediately greeted by an unexpected sight. 

a woman that looked about your age, but something about her somehow radiated maturity. her visage was coated with nothing but gentleness, yet her gaze was so strangely stern and tense, offering a balanced contrast to her face; she looked intimidating, yet had more than a welcoming aura. the girl’s facial structure was beautiful, too, but you mostly noticed how her long, wavy and healthy-looking black hair gracefully fell onto the slightly chubby sides of her face before you observed all of her other features with close attention. 

her mouth had somewhat of a downward triangular shape, it almost looked like a natural pout; you still could barely register anything in front of you at that moment, but you knew it was captivating.

man, you thought, she’s really pretty.

then, you realized that the reason why she was staring at you in that worried, puzzled manner.

you fell asleep on her shoulder.

“a-are you okay—“

before she could finish her sentence, that realization made you quickly snap back into reality and freak, very clearly embarrassed out of your damn mind, “shit, i’m so so sorry i didn’t mean to doze off like that, dear god i’m sorry—“

“i-it’s fine. i promise, it’s okay.” she waved her hands around wearing a subtle and compassionate smile, nervously trying to make you understand that what you did was completely harmless. 

you? you rubbed your eyes, groaning. you were still mentally slapping yourself for doing something that embarrassing; you rested your head and slept on a stranger’s shoulder. a stranger. it may not seem like that big of a deal, but to someone as socially awkward and anxious as yourself? this was suicide.

giggling to herself at your visible and quite frankly unnecessary distress, she slightly tugged on your shirt as a way to catch your attention. once she had it, she proceeded,

“you’re okay, it didn’t bother me at all, i swear. if anything, you probably need to get more hours of sleep if you just take naps on people’s shoulders like that.”

all you could do was look away in a guilty and embarrassed manner, she was right.

then, she spoke up again. “i’ll tell you what,” she smiled, before asking, “which one’s your stop?” 

you stumbled on your words, still slightly fatigued, before answering, “uh.. l-lampfield.”

“ah,” she said softly, smiling politely, “that’s my stop too. it won’t be a while till we get there, so.. you can sleep some more.” 

“but—“

“i insist. seriously don’t worry about it.” 

“o-okay… alright.” you shyly nodded.

she gently wrapped her arm around you and placed her hand behind your head, carefully pushing it onto her shoulder yet again. a sense of relief and comfort invaded your entire body upon being in small contact with her hands, especially when her fingers nicely massaged your scalp.

with every word she softly spoke, she lit up the entire dark subway with light. she radiated light with her presence alone; not sunlight, though… something more discreet than sunlight, something that quietly heals you and keeps you safe from the nearby darkness, unlike the sun that exhibits it for everyone to see. something like… moonlight.

yeah, you figured it out, that’s what she looked like. 

she looked like the moon. 

maybe that’s why it was so effortless to just fall asleep around her.

you let yourself get comfortable as you leaned against her for support. and before you felt yourself get sleepy once again, this time from her tender touch, you heard her same familiar voice place in a few words. words that made you feel safer than any lullaby ever could, words that made you wonder if you would get the chance to ever ask her name.

“i’ll wake you up.”

[tumbleweed-run]

Ethereal

Kinktober Day 25 Pregnancy

It didn’t matter how many times he saw her lately, Gale’s breath caught each time. When he thought of Tav the image his mind conjured up was still the woman he met, so it was a small thrill every time she appeared in the room. She was still absolutely stunning, but the fact that she was now carrying his child did something to him viscerally. 

The pregnancy was far enough along that there was no denying it. Even while fully dressed, anyone with eyes could tell Tav was carrying their child. Gale had spent much of the early months laying in bed with her caressing the growing mound that was her belly. Now he enjoyed allowing his hand to stray to her stomach, occasionally blessed with the little sensation of tiny feet against his hand. 

“Getting any work done?” Tav teased from where she’d paused by the door, undoubtedly watching him watch her. 

Gale glanced down at the mess of parchment in front of him, “not important.” 

She laughed and walked over to him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “What were you thinking about?”

“How lovely you look carrying our daughter,” Gale answered almost immediately. 

He heard the huff from above him, an amused and exasperated noise all rolled into one. “You’re so sure about that.”

“I have it on good authority that Morena Dekarios has correctly guessed the genders of the last 5 pregnant women she’s encountered,” Gale explained for probably the hundredth time, “and Mother took one look at you and declared that our child would be a girl.”

“Is that authority Morena herself?” Tav teased had disappeared further behind him.

Gale turned and found she had settled onto the seat on the terrace. The setting sun caused her skin to glow and Gale was momentarily frozen in awe. She looked every part the goddess right now, glowing both on the inside and the out. Luckily he knew that beneath her ethereal visage laid a very human heart. Tav’s humanity was some of his favorite parts of her, making her better than any god. 

“What did I do to earn the right to love you,” he asked surprising himself, the words leaving his lips before they’d even entered his brain. 

Tav smiled and rolled her eyes fondly. “You’ve been yourself and that’s all I’ve ever wanted,” she said insistantly.

Admittedly they had this conversation at somewhat regular intervals. Gale would likely never accept that he was worthy of loving someone like Tav. But everytime that black urge to prove himself in increasingly grandiose ways she was there to reel him back in. Reminding Gale that she loved him exactly as he was. 

He rose from his seat and went to her. Instead of taking up the rest of the space on the seat, Gale knelt before her. Placing a hand onto the swell of Tav’s stomach he leaned forward and pressed a kiss. He was rewarded with a thump against his hand. Gale chuckled and delivered another kiss.

“I can already tell this one will be a handful,” Tav said fondly placing a hand over Gale’s as another kick fluttered against her skin.

“Alright little girl,” Gale said with mock sterness, “give your mother a rest.”

Another eye roll above him but when he looked up Tav smiled and he was once more struck by her beauty and his luck. 

“Let me worship you,” Gale asked softly. 

Tav blushed at his request, eyes darting around, “not out here.”

“No one will see,” Gale tried to reason with her, more than happy to cast them some cover. 

She shook her head still. 

“Alright,” Gale conceded, “then lets go inside.”

“Uhg,” Tav whined, “I just got out here.”

Gale laughed in response and took Tav’s hands before rising to his feet, “I’ll make it worth your while, I promise.”

Tav allowed him to pull her to her feet at that promise. “You better.”

Gale lead her back inside and then further into the house towards their room. He’d considered using the couch in the study but knew their bed would be much more comfortable for her. His desire to touch her was easily outweighed by his desire to make Tav comfortable. 

Once they got into the room Gale made quick work of her clothing. Unable to resist Gale leaned down and pressed yet another kiss to her bare stomach. Tav laughed and playfully pushed at his shoulder. 

“I’m beginning to worry you might like be pregnant a little too much,” she accused even as she climbed onto their bed and settled against the mound of pillows that was beginning to take over their bed. 

“I enjoy your body in all of it’s states,” he told her as he followed. 

Gale pressed apart her legs slightly so he could kneel between them. He leaned up and captured Tav’s lips with his. She sighed into the kiss, raising up so she could deepen it. Gale was happy to let her lead for a while, resting his hands on either side of her face. The second Tav’s lips parted his tongue chased it’s way inside. He licked at the soft earthy flavor of the teas she’s begun enjoying lately until he found the flavor that was uniquely hers. They went on like this for several minutes until she was making soft noises into his mouth. 

Gale broke away from Tav’s lips in order to trail kisses down her neck and across her collar bone. She relaxed back, seemingly happy to allow him his time to worship her. He trailed down into the valley between her breasts and she arched her back towards him. Taking the hint Gale kissed upwards until he could draw one of her nipples into his mouth. Tav gasped, hand raising up to thread into his hair. He swirled the nipple with his tongue, his hand raising up to gently caress its twin. 

Tav moaned, legs spreading slightly in response. Gale gently pressed on of his knees forward against her core. She moaned again and ground down against his leg almost immediately. He released her nipple from his mouth and turned his attention to the other side. In the last few weeks she’d been nearly insatiable in bed, a perk of this stage of pregnancy she’d assured him. A perk Gale was all to happy to take advantage of. 

When he’d spend enough time worshipping her nipples, Tav was writhing near constantly and he could feel her arousal seeping into the fabric of his pants, Gale allowed his kisses to trail lower. He spent a few moment kissing along her stomach before sliding his hands beneath her hip. Sliding back down the bed Gale gently pulled her after him until she was laying. 

“Do you need a pillow?” Gale asked even as his lips trailed ever lower. 

“Gale,” was Tav’s only response, a plea. 

He sat up then and looked at her. “Do you need a pillow for under your hips?” He repeated.

Tav huffed, rolled her eyes, and grabbed a pillow out from the pile that was now above her head. “Yes, here,” she handed it to him.

Gale quickly helped work the pillow under her hips before returning his lips to the exact spot they’d left. Tav settled further into the bed with a contented sigh.

She was so delightfully wet when Gale finally made his way between her legs. Tav whimpered at his first lick between her folds, legs spreading even more. He was only happy to oblige to her silent request. He took his time licking every inch of her, swirling his tongue just inside her entrance. She moaned, hand finding its way back into his hair.

Gale gripped the pillow and pulled it forward so her hips tilted up a little more. “Good?” he asked. 

“Yes,” she answered breathlessly, tugging softly on his hair trying to guide his mouth back down onto her. 

Gale was laying flat on the bed now, hands resting under Tav’s thighs keeping them spread. As he lowered his mouth to her clit she cursed and rocked towards his lips. Gale’s hips rutted against the bed in response, his aching cock demanding attention. That was as much as he was willing to indulge it, his sole focus on sucking and licking at Tav’s clit. 

She was unreserved in the sounds spilling from her lips. Moans and whimpers spilling out around the melding of his name and various curses. It was music to Gale’s ears and he moaned against her cunt. Tav gasped and pulled him closer enjoying the vibrations. Gale continued to moan as he licked, showing her just how much he loved his current position. Tav writhed and cried out above him as she came against his mouth. 

Gale happily lapped at her under the waves of her orgasm stilled. Only then did he push up to sit back on his knees. Looking down at her he realized he was mistaken, she was truly ethereal now. Skin flushed, eyes dark with arousal as he hair fanned out a halo above her head. He wanted this memory burned into his brain forever, he would gladly forget every incantation to be allowed that. 

“Gale,” Tav whispered, raising her hand to him after allowing him to look a her for several moments. 

“I’m here,” he promised taking her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. 

“Yes but I want you up here,” she said and tugged at his hand until he leaned back over her to press a kiss against her lips.

“And here,” Tav continued, dragging a leg behind his thighs until he leaned forward, rocking his clothed cock against her core. 

Who was he to deny her? Gale stripped as quickly as possible, eyes only leaving Tav when they absolutely had to. 

“Like this?” He asked leaning over her when he was done, allowing his cock to brush against her folds. 

“No,” Tav shook her head and pushed at his shoulders. 

Gale sat back confused. Tav sat herself up and shuffled her body to the side of where she’d been. “I want to be on top,” she insisted. 

“Are you sure?” Gale checked even as he shuffled his body into the space she’d just vacated. 

Tav nodded and as soon as he stopped moving she threw her leg over his waist. She settled back until his cock was nestled between her legs, not inside just yet. Tav slowly rocked her hips against him whimpering each time his cockhead bumped against her clit. His hips followed her movements after a little, chasing after every one of her movements. Gale was happy to be like this for a while, lazily thrusting between her folds. 

Tav was the one who grew impatient. Planting one foot into the bed she rose up and grasped his cock by the base. Gale knew her well enough to place his hands on her hips and when she began to sink down onto him he forced her to move slowly. She tried to glare at him but her eyes were heavily lidded in pleasure with each little bit he allowed her to sink down. Slowly they went until she was settled flush against him. Gale bit his lip in restraint as he wanted to allow Tav a moment to adjust

“I’m not fragile,” She insisted rolling her hips with him deep inside of her. 

“Yes, but you are precious,” Gale reasoned, voice rough. 

Tav didn’t try and argue only continued to roll her hips. Gale granted her a few more moments before releasing her hips and gently rocking up into her. Tav quickly rose up and then allowed herself to slide back down his cock. Each time she did this she swiveled her hips slightly. Gale thrust up into her as she quickened her pace, one hand resting on his chest for support. 

She slowed eventually, movement becoming less smooth, she groaned in frustration. Tav’s muscles undoubtedly were growing tired. Gale planted his own feet into the bed and held onto her hips. He fucked up into her, taking over the motions entirely now. He could no longer tell who was making what noises.

Gale came first, hips thrusting up harder than he meant. He then pinned their hips together, a habit that would likely never die, as he filled her. Gale held her there until his orgasm faded. He quickly moved his hand, pressing two fingers between his skin and her’s until he found Tav’s clit. 

He worked it, quickly using some of his cum that had begun leaking from her as lubrication as he rubbed. She squirmed cried out, fingers flexing on his chest until her nails broke the skin. He kept up with his fingers until only a little while later Tav came again, cunt spasming against his softening cock. She collapsed against him as she came. 

Gale gently rolled them onto their sides so her stomach was no longer trapped between them. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured against her skin. Tav leaned her head further against his lips and sighed happily.