#heavy spiked ball

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

[dreamlogic]

musing in the tags about the view two years out from my hysterectomy and the shifting nature of neuropathy. i asked my PT for recommendations/resources pertaining to pain science and that's been a very helpful lenses to have. i'm still not back to normal, will never be unmarked by this experience or return to my pre-op self, but my baseline has been gradually increasing over the last few months, and it feels good to look back on the last two years and say "i have no idea how i managed to function while living with that, but i did!"

[honey-on-your-tongue]

COMING UP BABY,(I come as quick when I heard you doing kinkotber requests sooooo yYEA)

Miguel O’Hara x goodgirl!reader

KINK: hunting predator kink, overstimulation,and an slight breeding kink (idk 😃 i remember reading something like this so yea,where Miguel has an kink that he enjoys playing the predator,loves to see reader in fear,it make him “excited” 😏,loved to see reader so hopeless,so pitiful,and so vulnerable)

IDK IM SO SORRY IF IT BADLY EXPAINED 😭😭😭 BUT happy kinkobter ✌️✌️🫶🫶

Kinktober Day Four: Predator

Kinktober Masterlist

Miguel O'Hara x female reader

You heart races in your chest. You can hear it in your ears, can feel your lungs expanding with each quickened breath.

You're shaking slightly, hiding in an old, abandoned building behind what used to be some sort of desk.

You hear him walk into the room, heavy footsteps slow and quiet. His breathing is heavy, a rough, almost animalistic grunt leaving him.

You shudder where you hide, closing your eyes, trembling as he moves around the room.

Miguel knows you're here. He can hear your rapid breaths, can sense your racing heart. And he smells you. He can smell your fear and your arousal, making his own spike.

He takes a deep inhale, already knowing where you're hiding, but knowing that the more he scares you, the sweeter it'll be when he catches you.

His claws are out, his fangs at the ready. He can't help it. You drive him crazy.

He'd been a little reluctant the first time you two had done this little predator/prey role, thinking he'd scare you off. Instead, he was surprised and delighted to find how much you enjoyed it.

He walks closer to where you are, the smell of your fear growing, making his cock even harder. He stalks closer, laughing softly, darkly.

“I don't know why you bother hiding,” he says, voice low. “Did you forget I can smell you?”

You shudder, eyes popping open. He laughs again and leans over the desk slowly, smirking, those red eyes dark and sharp as he finds you crouched into a tiny ball.

“Perdiste, princesa,” he says thickly. You lost, princess.

He grabs you, pulling you to him. You gasp as he sets you down on the desk, moving to stand between your legs.

His claws dig into your hips slightly, a silent warning: you better not think about running right now.

He kisses you messily, eager, his mouth moving down your jaw, your neck. He bites you, relishing in the way you squirm beneath him. “Shh, princesa, ni siquiera empezamos.” We haven't even started.

He fucks you over and over, his cock buried so deep inside you that the thick head presses against your cervix. He keeps going even as you shake from your fourth or fifth orgasm.

“Miguel!” you whine. “Miguel!” It's the only word you know anymore. He's truly fucked you dumb.

“Shh, ya sé, princesa,” (I know) he says in your ear, fucking you hard and fast, barely resisting the urge to sink his fangs into your neck. “I'm almost done with you, baby. Just gimme a minute longer, hm? Gimme a chance to fill you up.”

You moan, trembling underneath him as another orgasm overcomes you. “Ahh!”

“I'm gonna give you a baby, princesa,” he says. “Do you want that? Do you wanna be full of my baby?” He chuckles against your ear. “Qué bonita te vas a ver con mi bebé adentro de ti.” You're gonna look so pretty with my baby in you.

He comes inside of you, delivering his thick, hot load deep in your cunt. You mewl lowly at the feel.

He kisses the tip of your nose, then your lips. He keeps his cock buried deep in you. He hopes, truly..he gets you pregnant. There's nothing he'd like more than to give you a child.

-----

@yagirlheree @sukioyakio @obi-mom-kenobi @celestia80s @manlikemilesmyguy @zaunsin @naniiiii12 @everlastlady @avatar-lover @siidmm @dhollandhs @spikedhe4rt @missing2socks @itzraven101 @miguelspookiebear @mochikomochisoft @sunset-euphoria @kishibeswh0re @m4dyy @icreatedthisat317am @keiva1000 @jakescumdump @ravisinghs-wife @tengens4th--wife @oceancerulean @pookiesmookie69 @juwandiko @aisyakirmann @ninebluehearts @vampireluvvr @saturnstringz @4imhry @iheartlinds @pigeonmama @eyweveng @braverthanthenewworld @livingwithinyou @switchiest @httpstoyosi @lyn-soso @6thhokageswife @normsdaughter-alt @thel0velykey190 @tojibreedingme @icouldntthinkofanythingclever

*if you want me to add you to my Miguel taglist, comment or send me a message <3

-----

[gremlingottoosilly]

metalhead! konig and alternative!reader plz🙏🙏. i just need konig to protect me in a moshpit at a concert. im short so i need a 6’10 giant to protect me 😁🫶

Your first time at the real concert in Vienna was...a lot. Drunken Germans, yelling tourists, someone definitely doing crack in the corner, and some girls that looked like they were ready to sacrifice the strongest one to the devil. You belong here, of course, with your heavy boots and even heavier makeup - the foundation already feels like a mask on your skin, not allowing you to breathe without cracking a layer of powder and lipstick all over your mouth, but you tried your hardest to have fun. And you did have fun - except for the time you were pushed to the mosh pit. In your unstable heavy boots - the coolest shit ever, of course, and also the thing that made you reconsider all of your life choices that had led to this. Maybe you were the brave gothic alt butterfly who got into the pit all by herself - unfortunately, the reasoning won't change the outcome. European concerts might not be as wild as some of the American ones, but drunk Germans and Austrians are something to be concerned about...and old metalheads who been jamming here since the fall of The Wall is something that is going to be your funeral...this is when you felt a hand on your shoulder. "Are you alright, Schatzen?" Man sounded awkward, almost nervous. Mumbled some apology before finally snatching up up in his hands - and you were ready to kick him in the balls with those spikes in your boots and scream bloody murder, but then you understood that he just...got you off the pit. That was filled with people a second later - people that would definitely crush you if you stayed here. Guy's name is Konig and he was actually not liking the concert very much. He said he loved the group - since he was a teen which, you presume, was quite a long time ago - but he hated the crowds. His friend got him a ticket and then couldn't come with him, which made him kinda lonely and kinda heroic to a sweet thing like you. Konig is nervous and you grab his hand to steady him - you swear to god you feel his fingers tremble as you bring your body closer. Concert was nice - but it's nicer when he grabs you by your hips and lifts you up on his shoulders so you could get a clean view at the band. You feel scared at first - not trusting that he won't drop you...but his hands don't even waver as he keeps his cool, making sure you're stable and having fun. You slip your number in his pocket as he walks you to the bus home - and you don't even resist when he awkwardly leans down to kiss you, his mask down to his chin. Your black lipstick is all over his mouth now, and you make sure to lick it all off. Don't want to leave a bad first impression, after all.

[jello-chennie]

✧ tough guy iwaizumi hajime who ends up falling for his best friend’s cute little sister

✧ genre/tw fluff ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ (nsfw at the end ⚠︎)

✧ word count 857

all three of you grow up together, with you being two years younger than tooru. oikawa is always doting on you, treating you like a doll. despite the very little age gap, no matter how old you get, he’s always referring to you as his baby sister. oikawa spoils you rotten. one look from those big brown eyes you both share, but look a lot cuter on you for some reason, and oikawa can’t help but to give you whatever you ask for.

in the beginning, iwaizumi is almost like your other, more responsible big brother when things go wrong. you’re always trying to tag along with your older brother and his friend, which is a recipe for disaster sometimes.

when you inevitably take a spill, and bump your knees, tooru is rolling on the ground, shouting out against the heavens for forsaking you. how could the higher powers let you just fall to the ground like that?? but iwaizumi is is silently wiping off the pebbles from your knee with his little hands, blowing cool air to help assuage your pain. without a word, he carries you back home.

eventually you learn to stop tagging along so much. you can only handle so much pain and embarrassment. other than those moments, iwaizumi and you never really spend that much time together. for the rest of your childhood, you’re more acquaintances than anything else.

but at some point, after oikawa desperately begs you to join the boys volleyball team as it’s manager (“its the only time we’ll be together in high school, you wouldn’t ruthlessly deny your precious and loving and dashing and charming big brother this chance, would you???”), iwaizumi begins to notice you again. but this time, you’re a lot more grown up than you were before. seems like good looks run in the family.

but he’s not the only one that notices. in the same sense that oikawa seems to have the student body under his spell, it seems you do as well, and without even trying.

you’ve had a sheltered childhood that you mostly spent in doors, so you’re shyer than most people. and your brother enables you with his doting behaviour.

iwaizumi finds himself frequently getting jealous at the basket of love letters and confectionery that you have to empty out of your locker and lug home every night. iwaizumi finds that his hands begin to ache after a while bc he clenches them so hard whenever he sees another person confessing to you. and he waits with baited breath to see their disappointed faces as they walk away—an indication that you turned them down again in the way that you always shyly do; an indication that he might still have a chance, yet.

in an effort to put the moves on you, iwaizumi is constantly performing little acts of service for you. he goes out with you to the fountains to refill the water bottles so that you have some company, and so that you won’t have to carry anything heavy—that should be his job, after all. in the most cliche move ever, when an errant ball goes flying right in your direction, iwaizumi coolly catches it with one hand before it can bounce off of your head, making sure to ask you if you’re okay after. he stays behind to help you sweep the floors after practice, striking up a conversation with you. when oikawa stays behind to practice his spikes, iwaizumi walks alone with you home, making sure to keep you away from the side of the sidewalk that’s closest to the road. iwa also makes sure to put your back against the wall of the train while standing in front of you, keeping you safe from any wandering hands.

eventually, he even starts buying your favourite milk drink from the vending machine, and brings it to you while he visits your classroom, the place where you normally eat your lunch. he sits, and eats with you (to which oikawa complains vehemently bc “why would you just sit in a different spot than we normally do without telling me?? you left me all alone!!")

iwaizumi’s actions don’t go unnoticed. you start to fall for it.

when you two eventually start to date, oikawa is whining and complaining that you two are both stealing each other away from him (there’s also relentless teasing on oikawa’s end bc “iwa-chan, isn’t funny that you fell in love with someone that looks just like me?? are you secretly gay and actually just in love with me :3 ??”)

but what’s really the kick in the back for oikawa is the moment he runs up to his precious little sister’s room to check and see what she wants for dinner. but upon opening the door, he finds both his best friend (who, of which, he didn’t even know was over their place at the moment) on top of his “adorable baby sister who can do absolutely no wrong”; the two of them are naked from the waist down, in the throes of passion.

he falls to his knees, asking god to strike him dead, right then and there.

[kingkatsuki]

— help

Just thinking about looking after Bakugou for a change, because he deserves it.

Warnings: 18+, sub!Bakugou, handjobs, Bakugou fucks your fist, spit, overstimulation.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Word Count: 1.0k.

Dynamight always has a mean and imposing aura surrounding him, a man that holds so much dominance and power to everyone that beholds him. Standing tall as the number two hero, a protector for the people. But a man that carries the weight of the world on his broad shoulders sometimes needs someone to look after him too.

You know the days he’s like this, when he comes to you with tired eyes and sunken shoulders. The days where it feels as though his back might break from carrying all the pressure, the weight that might cause him to be buried in an avalanche beneath it.

"That's it, baby," You coo," "Doing good for me."

And he is— his teeth gnaw on his lower lip as he ruts his hips forward, fucking into your palm as you tighten your grip around him. Even though his hulking body has you pinned against the wall, it’s you that holds every ounce of power over him.

“You’re so pretty like this.” You thumb the leaking blush pink tip of his cock, throbbing and swollen from all the pent up frustration brewing inside him, “You like when I touch your cock?”

He’s embarrassed, and he hates to admit it. A gruff grunt your only response as you tease your fingers against the prominent veins that fork along his length. Teasing the messy tuft of hair at his base as you feel his pelvis concave, lurching as he feels his balls already begin to tighten. His body heavier against you now as he pins you down, leaning into you.

“Spit on it, baby.” Your free hand cards through the buzzed hairs at the back of his neck, nails drag against his scalp as you find purchase in his messy spikes.

Pushing his head down between your bodies as you still your hand, watching as his Adam’s apple bobs before he puckers his lips. Obediently spitting downwards as the drooling glob lands on his cock and your fist, smoothing the moisture into his skin as you roll your wrist.

“Good boy.” The praise pulls another salacious moan from his chest as he buries his face in your neck, embarrassment evident on his features as he palms your hip pathetically, “Look at the mess you’re making.”

His cock is drooling pre, collecting it against your palm as you stroke it, mixing it with his spit as he continues to meet your movements.

“Are you imagining it’s my cunt, Katsuki?” He ruts his hips at your crude tone, a choked grunt vibrates against your neck as he shudders, “Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Fuck—” He whimpers and you can tell he’s close, he certainly won’t last if he feels the wet warmth of your walls wrap around him.

“You’re close already, sweet boy?” You murmur, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek as his warm breath fans against your skin.

Bakugou’s only response a gruff pant as his lips move against the curve of your neck, unable to control his senses as he drools against your skin. He’s a mess like this, giving up all the power and control he so easily wields and offering it to you.

“Need your pussy,” He rasps, “Please.”

“Need my pussy?” You coo, condescension oozing from your tone, “You don’t need it do you, baby? I think you’re about to cum just like this.”

His thrusts are sloppier now, shamelessly fucking himself into your fist as he searches for his own release. Your other hand slips between his thighs to press the pad of your finger against his taint, dangerously close to his tight rim as he splutters a string of incoherent words. Tightening your fist around him as he ruts his hips, heavy balls knocking against your hand with each forward movement.

“See, I think you’re going to cum for me aren’t you, sweet boy?” You can tell from the way he’s leaning his weight on you, teeth grazing your neck as he bucks his hips sloppily. Much like the ferocity of his thrusts when he wields all the power, pounding into your tight heat as he presses your thighs up to your chest. The tables turned as you steal that very power from him for now, controlling the moves like the Queen in chess as you move to protect your King.

“Show me how pretty you look when you cum, Katsuki.” The sound of his name uttered so sweetly is all it takes for him to find his end, a debauched moan tumbles from his chest as his hips begin to stutter. Unable to control himself as he lets his pleasure take over his consciousness and he dives into his release, white hot spurts of cum spurt from his thick cock as they splatter onto your tummy.

“That’s it, baby. Such a good boy for me—“ You resume your pace as you feel his hips begin to slow, taking him through his high as he whimpers from overstimulation. Blunt nails dig into the meat of your hips as he stutters incoherently, stroking his cock with fevor as you try to coax more out of him.

“I can’t,” He rasps, “S’too fuckin’ much.”

“I know you can, baby. Come on— for me?” Your finger moves from his taint you push against his tight rim, feeling it flutter around you as you push in to the first knuckle as he begins to curse. His legs buckling as he fucks into your fist wildly, his chest now pressed tight against yours as you still manage to fist his cock between you. Another load spurting from the swollen tip as it coats both your bodies, stray globs drop to the floor as Bakugou almost follows. Keeping himself steady against you as his body curves over you, panting as you give a few final gentle strokes to his softening cock.

“That’s my good boy,” You whisper, peppering kisses against his collarbone as he tries to regain his breath, “You did such a good job for me.”

Because even a man who carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, needs someone to shoulder that burden sometimes too.

[qtkoshi]

Maybe gn!Reader and Hobie adopt a kitten and the other three (Pavitr, Gwen, and Miles) come to see the kitten? Maybe a orange kitten gn!Reader wanted to name Spunk or Spike while Hobie gave them a spike collar? Would be cute lol

i luv ur brain anon

"you got....a kitten?"

- ok ok idk if this is what u meant, but u can feel free to run this with the bubblegum reader + hobie bc i think it fits alright :-) - also get a little deep with describing relationship,, but it’s necessary for the plot ! (...) - also!!! tysm for the requests; i am very excited to get into them, but will prob wait till tmrw to release bc it is my birthday today <3 much love to you all

──★ ˙ ̟ to the stars ！

general headcannons

alright first of all: hobie with a kitten? i’m in tears. 

i love the hc that hobie has a soft spot for cats and the fact that y’all got one together? bye.

NAPS WITH THE KITTEN JUST NESTLED BETWEEN BOTH OF YOU

this cat is gonna be SPOILED in attention i tell u rn

hobie isn’t as obvious ab it as u, but the amount of times u see him chilling with the cat just perched on his shoulder?? (why are u taking the baby swinging across the city hobie; wait a min now–)

how u got him

imagine this: ur walking past an alley and hear this small little meow; after further investigation you find this tuft of orange fur crying outside the dumpster and

now u gotta take it in what r u talking about!!

bringing him home immediately ; hobie's spidey senses prob picked up the cat's presence before you got in the door.

'baby what's that.' 'c'mon spiderman we got saving to do'

man can't even argue with you

hobie not naming the cat himself bc he doesn’t wanna enforce socio-constructed labels on an unsuspecting creature that can’t consent

u can tho.

and while you very much want to, you tell hobie you gotta think on it for a bit – it has to fit just right!! (tbh he rlly doesn’t mind the cat being nameless, but he’s kinda whipped and will kinda go with what u want if it helps give that pretty lil smile to him again)

spider-squad finding out ab him

the besties r wrapping up something with a fight and hobie’s all k gotta leave and check on the cat and the rest are like ????? 

pav absolutely floored bc how dare did u not mention this sooner hobie

'so you lot wanna come see him?' (inter-dimensional travel ensues) – also never gonna complain ab coming to hobie’s house they all think his place is dope

i’m sure we all know orange cats are fucking crazy and that does not exclude the little gremlin jumping off the walls of your flat rn

hobie ofc is smirking bc his son the cat is a little agent of chaos and he couldn’t be more proud 

you, on the other hand, are just a little tired trying to get the fucker to stay still for a second so u can put on the damn flea medicine

everybody loves him are u kidding (miles a little hesitant tho, he still has beef with the last spiderman-variant cat he met :/ ) 

“so whats its name?” miles was watching with wary eyes as the little ball of fur darted around. with a heavy (and definitely not dramatic) sigh, you walk over to the group “still haven’t picked. we just found him yesterday.”

luv the idea of hobie looking at u anytime ur in the room (stay with me now) — can’t help it u just grab all his attention, maybe stop being so lovely idk

speaking of your relationship: he has spent years battering against everything life throws at him that having your love in the palm of his hands? something to protect not in the way he does as a hero, but in the way to cherish as a person?? give the man a break, he deserves to admire you whenever he can.

anyways hobie’s looking at you before going ‘oh yea’, just grunts and pulls out this little collar with little spikes and their matching and oh my that is so cute

says he found it in some garbage, most def made the collar with some scraps like he did his own (gotta keep it cool yk)

you giddy and putting the collar on the little heathen and just all ‘omg wait a min’

promptly lifting the cat up and “THIS IS SPIKE.”

cue golf claps from the squad with some ooo’s and aah’s

more gen headcannons

remember when hobie and the cat were swinging around the city? yea he's taking that mf everywhere. puts him in his pocket like a little surprise

hobie loves to play fight with the cat

spike is the perfect mix; got hobie’s energy and your brightness it’s a win-win

i could write more but i'll stop here for now 🕸️

⊗

[diejager]

Thank you for letting me use your delicious idea @konigsblog 💚

Pup

When Price told them that the Task Force would have a canine companion, none of them expected this: a dog-eared, doe-eyed, energetic and very human-like canine. You were the new canine companion that would accompany them in and off mission, even though you were more human than dog.

Although you growled and guarded them from enemies, fought well to protect them and yourself, and showered them with soft, puppy love, they still trained you. They preferred hands on training rather than the basic ones you received at the canine compound; it also helped to strengthen bonds between the master and pet.

“Good pup, aren’t y’a?”

He loved pushing you to the floor, his covered erection rutting against your supple ass, panting loudly as his bodies rattled over yours for relief. Pinning you to the training mat, wrists locked over your head and legs spread around his hip, grinding your heated core upwards and whining out the cutes sounds. Listening to your pleading whines for his attention, riding his thigh like a bitch in heat; perhaps you were, your body heated and your core burning, hurting and throbbing for something to fill you.

“You cry so pretty, pup.”

The men, however, much preferred bending you over a surface and ravaging you, pulling out of your throat the sweetest mewls with every harsh thrust of their hard cock into your tight and squirting cunt. Obsessed with the warmth of your slick walls, sucking him whole while you crashed from your highs, milking his heavy balls every time you came. Your achingly hungry cunt still clenching for more, broken voice wailing for him to satisfy your needs, head nuzzling his cheek and neck, scenting him in your musk. You staked your claim on him as he did you, painting your naked neck with bites and hickeys to show off to the other boys that stared at you with dark, lustful eyes that you were the 141’s pup.

“You’re doing so well, pup. Yes, that’s it, keep going.”

Training varied often, from adjusting your little snatch to their girthy shaft to stretching that tight, little rim that puckered when he pushed in. Your ass is as warm - if not warmer - than your cunt. You struggled at first, whimpering about how it wouldn’t fit even though he reassured you it would. Whimpering and whining into the pillow as he slammed into your opened rim, drooling over his bed with your ass up and your face shoved down. His adrenaline spiked when he could land a few spanks on your bouncing ass, skin meeting his hips when he bottomed out into you, cunt leaking down your thighs.

“Slow, pup, go slow. Yeah, that’s it.”

He liked coming down your throat as much as he could in your ass and cunt. Hearing you gag when his bulbous tip hit the bottom of your throat made his shiver, hips jerking erratically while he held your head. Sometimes he liked taking control, using your mouth to relieve himself of his frustration, other times, he liked letting you chose your pace, to let you take care of him lovingly. Your head bobbing between his thick thighs, hands pumping the rest that wouldn’t fit into your drooling mouth. You stared at his face, round, puppy eyes glazed over with big tears and cheeks full, a sinfully adorable face for the TF’s canine companion.

“Welcome to Task Force 141, pup.”

[thesassypadawan]

Birthday Boy (Hayden x FemReader)

Summary: It’s your man’s birthday! A day filled with all the love, presents, and…special ‘treats’.

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there sooo much of the smut. Birthday head and, as always… Hayden’s big, fat dick.

Notes: Happy Birthday, Hay! 💙🤍

And also Happy Hayden's (And Mine) Birthday Event! In honor of the man, the myth, the legend; I will be posting nothing but Anakin, Vader, and Hay stories all April long!

- It’s Hayden’s birthday! One of the few days during the year when you can spoil him totally rotten…and he can’t object or complain.

- You always make it into a big deal. Showering him with love and affection. Making his fav foods. Getting him so many thoughtful presents. Planning all sorts of little surprises and special ‘treats’…that you just so happen to enjoy too.

- The sound of your alarm fills the air, and your arm flies out from underneath the covers. Hand fumbling for your phone, trying to silence it before a moose starts to stir.

- Luckily, you’re successful and no harm was done. Because you can hear the soft snores echoing out from behind you.

- Yawning, you try to blink yourself awake. You had set it with the intention of getting up early enough to prepare him breakfast in bed. But having that deliciously warm body pressed up against and those strong arms wrapped around you…

- A sleepy smile spreads across your face and your eyes begin to close. Until you feel a very hard, very familiar something poke your backside. And suddenly you’re no longer going with the original plan. Instead you’re opting for the new, amazing one you just thought up.

- Somehow you not only manage to untangle yourself from Hay, but you’re also able to get him to lay on his back. From there you make quick work of removing the sheets and pulling down his sleep pants. Cock springing free and standing proud.

- Positioning yourself between his toned legs, lips hovering barely a few inches above his dick. You pause a moment, making sure he’s still asleep by whispering… “Oi, Big Dork; Leafs suck.”

- Nothing. Not an angry grumble or eyes cracking open to glare at you. Nothing.

- Boldly you kitten lick his fat tip, happily lapping up that first salty bead of pre. Before popping it into your mouth, rolling your tongue around and sucking gently. Teasing at and playing with his slit until more of that bittersweet goodness explodes across your taste buds.

- Moaning softly, the vibrations cause Hayden to shift a bit. But you chose to ignore this, taking more of him in. That slight, pleasant ache in your jaw making you pant through your nose, your own arousal spiking. Cunt clenching around nothing, dripping…soaking through your panties.

- Bobbing your head up and down, you set a steady pace. Lips and hand wrapped tightly around his impressive length, adding more friction as you pump. Teeth nipping and grazing at him lightly.

- You’re so caught up that you don’t hear the low groan, but you certainly feel the big hand coming to rest on the back of your head. Those long fingers lacing through your hair, tugging.

- With his cock still nice and warm in your mouth, you not so innocently gaze up at him. Hay’s blue eyes are blown so wide, a lazy smile on his face. “Happy Birthday to me,” he chuckles, voice raspy from sleep.

- Humming, you swallow him greedily. Head brushing and hitting the back of your throat. Trying your best to not choke, fighting the urge not to gag.

- “That’s it,” he grunts. Pulling harder, hips starting to slowly buck. “Keep Going.”

- Driven by his words and that wonderful burn on your scalp, you double your efforts. Picking up speed, you match his rhythm. Baring down, letting him slide deeper with each thrust. Squeezing and playing with his heavy balls.

- First you feel his dick twitch, then his thighs begin to tremble, and…

- Growling, Hayden shot his hot cum down your throat. Curses falling from his lips while you hungrily drink every last drop.

- Releasing him with a wet sounding pop, you eagerly crawl on top of and straddle him. “Happy Birthday, Hay!” You giggle, grinning and wiggling like crazy…some of his ‘frosting’ trickling down your chin. “Today it’s all about you and-”

- A squeak escapes you as your suddenly flipped over. Back pressed against the mattress, caged in by his arms. Tip pushing at your drenched core.

- “Thanks for the gift, angel,” the birthday boy smirks, hand slowly trailing down your hip. “I’ll open it right now.” And with one quick movement, tares off your panties.

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @wifeofasith, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen

[ichorai]

water dragon ; aemond targaryen. (m)

the sequel to little dragon!

pairing ; aemond targaryen x tully!f!reader

synopsis ; aemond loved his wife and his children more than anything. to lose one of them... that would bring nothing but war to the seven kingdoms.

words ; 10.3k

themes ; fluff, smut (minors dni!), heavy angst, established relationship (married), parents au

warnings / includes ; major character death (please proceed with caution), blood & cheese, descriptions of violence/blood, unprotexted sex scenes, sex in the rain, jealous!aemond, foul language, you and aemond have three children (syraena, kyrion, myra), cameos of the rest of the hotd characters, syraena experiencing gender dysphoria :( aemond being a good father/husband (most of the time), kyrion is a dragon dreamer, aegon being gross and touching you inappropriately, so sorry if the valyrian isn't completely correct </3 the timeline for this fic is a bit shifted so that king viserys dies a couple years later than he does in the show (so the children have more time to grow) lots & lots of foreshadowing !! there will be a part three.

main masterlist.

A dull, heavy thud resounded across the training yard when Criston swung his morningstar at Aemond yet again, its thick spikes missing his cheek by a hair’s breadth as he gracefully spun away, the ball landing onto the ground. Before his mentor could strike him again, Aemond darted around him in the blink of an eye, slanting the longsword’s blade against Criston’s throat. 

“If we were enemies on a battlefield, you would be dead,” the Prince murmured.

The Dornish knight raised his hands in surrender. “Then I am grateful we are neither enemies nor at battle.”

With a hum, Aemond let the sword retreat back to his side, turning to place it back on the weapons rack. Only, he found his gaze falling on a small girl amongst the onlookers, her e/c eyes wide, curious, and eagerly dark.

“Syraena? What are you doing here?” he asked his eldest daughter, striding up to her and staring her down with the most stern expression he could muster. It was an hour past noon, and that meant she was supposed to be at her embroidery lessons with the Septa. Or perhaps it was dancing lessons? Aemond couldn’t quite recall. Either way, she wasn’t supposed to be here.

Upon further inspection, he noted that her wispy hair was far shorter and more scraggly than usual, small bits of silver strands littered over her scrawny shoulders.

“What did you—did you cut your hair?” Aemond accused, his single eye narrowing as he knelt down in front of her. “Gods, your mother is going to have my head.”

“Do you like it, Kepa?” Syraena replied, wildly ruffling the short silver tendrils with a wide smile. “I found a sharp shard of glass by that broken window beside the mess hall… and I cut my hair with it!”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Aemond blew out a long, exasperated sigh. Though this wasn’t the first time Syraena had startled her parents, prone to impulsive recklessness, it didn’t make her proclivities any less hard on Aemond’s heart. “Darling, that is wildly careless. Don’t ever do that again, you understand me? Come on—you shouldn’t be here, your mother must be worried to death searching for you.”

Swiftly, he wound his arms around the six year-old, lifting her up so she would sit over his waist. Of course, Syraena being Syraena, pulled a sour face and began reaching out for Criston, who was observing on with an amused expression.

“But I want to watch you spar!” she complained, twisting in his grasp and kicking at his stomach. Aemond had to bite down on his tongue to swallow his groan of pain, but he held onto her tight nonetheless. “Kepa, let me down! Let me go!”

“You should be in your lessons,” Aemond chastised, striding up the winding stairs back into the Keep. 

Pouting, Syraena let herself flop limply against Aemond’s shoulder. “I hate lessons. I hate the Septa. I hate being a girl.”

Raising a brow, Aemond glanced down at her before softly patting the back of her head. Though he hadn’t a clue what it was like to be a woman in Westeros, he could understand her feeling of not belonging amongst others who seemed to belong so easily. Syraena never got along with other girls her age, who were often afraid of her callousness and her tempestuous nature. In that respect, Aemond supposed his daughter was just like him.

“I’m sorry, my sea dragon. Perhaps I’ll let the Septa know that you no longer wish to dance.” 

“And embroider!”

“Hm. That, as well.”

Syraena grinned widely—her curved lips reminiscent of yours.

“Kepa?”

“Mmh?”

“Don’t tell mother I cut my hair,” she whispered, eyes shining with worry.

It was hard for Aemond to suppress his smile. “I’m sure she’ll notice regardless of whether I tell her or not, darling,” he gently told her.

Her expression dropped. “I didn’t mean to cut it this short. I just don’t like my long hair.”

“You’re very beautiful either way, Syraena,” he easily replied, before stopping in front of his chambers, where he knew you were watching over their baby daughter. “Alright. You go on inside—I’ll go speak to your Septa.”

He set his daughter down on her feet. She loitered by the door, dragging her feet glumly.

With a bark of a laugh, Aemond nudged her forward. “Go on. Your mother won’t be angry. Not that much, at least.”

Aemond’s only son, Kyrion, was a quiet boy. Only five years of age, born less than eleven moons after Syraena, he was already of greater intelligence than most far older than him, growing a knack for reading and drawing. The maesters would often express that his mind was developing much quicker than what was deemed normal. 

Not only that, but he was quite handsome, as well, with strikingly sharp features akin to his father, and a head of snow-white curls. His eyes were a pale shade of purple, always distant and clouded over with thought. From as soon as he began to talk, Kyrion often spoke in strange, twisted riddles, mystifying both you and Aemond to no end.

King Viserys, as sickly as he was, had claimed him to be a dragon dreamer. Alicent had hushed him then, thinking he was on another one of his senseless rambles, and gently asked the two of you to step out so he could get some rest.

Now, as Aemond sat with his son in the library, he pondered the possibility of it all. Perhaps Kyrion had a divine gift—the ability to see glimpses of the future. He would have to speak with you about it, see what you thought first.

Even if it were true, Aemond didn’t want to put any kind of unnecessary pressure on his son. Kyrion was only five, after all, no matter how startlingly intelligent he was.

“And what does this say?” He tested the boy, tapping his finger against the dusty Valyrian book.

Immediately, Kyrion replied in his soft, far-away voice, “Zaldrīzoti mērī ipradagon parklon. Dragons only eat meat.”

“Hm. Good.”

“It should be more specific,” said Kyrion, hands fidgeting beneath the table. “Dragons only eat cooked meat.”

A ghost of a proud smile hovered over Aemond’s lips. “That is correct—this book is old, from a time before maesters were able to record accurate, detailed information about dragons.”

Kyrion didn’t reply, flipping the worn, yellowed page.

“What does this mean?” he eventually asked, pointing at an unfamiliar word.

Aemond glanced over at the book, before blanching, and cleared his throat hastily. The paragraph was depicting a few different maesters’ debates on the mating practices of dragons—a topic of which Aemond was not too keen on broaching with his five year-old son. 

“Mmh… nothing of importance. Keep on reading, my water dragon. You’re doing very well.”

Blinking up at him with his large, pale violet eyes. He seemed to sense his father’s discomfort, so he let the matter drop, returning his attention to the book. Aemond blew out a relieved breath—he’d surely have to tell you about this later tonight.

Myra Targaryen, the youngest of Aemond’s children at three years of age, was a sweet little girl with a soft heart, always wearing a gentle smile. She loved all things in nature, and had a near unbearingly kind soul. She loved singing and dancing, a stark contrast to Syraena, who turned her nose away at such activities. At times Aemond wondered how Myra could possibly be his kin, for she was far too pure and he was… certainly not.

Unlike her sharp-faced siblings, Myra’s features were much softer and healthily plump. Her hair was a shade darker than them as well, the curls a silver-gold hue of blonde. Though Aemond was hoping for another daughter that bore your beautiful eye color, Myra was born with his dark purple irises, nearly blue in certain lighting.

As you had left to soak in a bath, Aemond had taken it upon himself to put his river dragon to sleep, tucking her beneath a fleece blanket and brushing her flaxen away from her drooping eyelids, heavy with exhaust from the day.

“Ēdrū sȳrī, Myra,” he whispered, brushing a kiss upon her forehead. Sleep well.

“Night-night, Kepa,” she responded, grinning sleepily, dimples indenting her chubby cheeks. “Today I saw a butterfly in the gardens!”

“Mmh, was it a large butterfly?”

“No. It was very small—smaller than my hand! I named it Hūra, because it was white, like the moon.”

Finding her grin contagious, Aemond felt a smile flicker over his usually stoic demeanor. “A lovely name. Your Aunt Helaena loves butterflies, as well. Perhaps you can tell her all about Hūra tomorrow.”

Myra enthusiastically nodded, before sitting up against her feather-pillows, reaching up to her father to press a sweet kiss against his scar, just below his eyepatch.

By the Gods, he could nearly feel tears prick the corner of his vision, but he managed to subdue them for a minute, not wanting to weep in front of his young daughter, lest she grew worried for him.

“I like Kepa’s scar,” she mumbled as she settled back down to go to sleep. “How did you get it?”

Aemond was silent for a long while, unsure of what to tell her. “An accident,” he simply replied. 

“Does it hurt?”

It did, at times. Not as often as it used to, but there were instances he could still feel phantom pains throbbing behind the leather patch. “Not anymore,” he lied, voice quiet.

If Myra had any other questions, she didn’t get the chance to ask them, already drifting off into slumber.

Aemond hummed, before rising onto his feet, making his way out of her chambers. To his surprise, you were hovering by the doorway, arms crossed and affection written plainly over your expression.

“I just put Kyrion to bed,” you whispered, leaning into his touch when he cradled your face with his palms with a quiet greeting. “He was speaking in riddles again—something about a deal with a stag?”

The two of you began making your way down the hall, to your shared chambers. “Stag?” he asked. “Baratheons?”

“I don’t know.” You shook your head, sighing. “I worry for him.”

Aemond slipped into the room after you, shutting the door behind him. He gathered you in his arms, capturing your lips with his in a chaste kiss. When he pulled away, he studied your concerned features—just as beautiful as the day he’d met you.

“We’ll be fine, dōna embar,” he reassured you, leading you to bed with a protective hand resting over your lower back. You loosely smiled at the nickname—sweet sea. “The dragon-trouts are strong. No house, stag or otherwise, could ever lay a hand on them.”

Instead of responding, you kissed him again, your nose bumping against his in your haste. The both of you laid down on the tall mattress, the promise of sleep whispering sand into your ears.

Before you could fall into a dreamless rest, however, Aemond quietly murmured, “I’m assuming Syraena didn’t tell you she cut her hair with a shard of glass she found by a broken window. Kyrion also asked about mating practices whilst we were in the library. And Myra wanted to know how I got my scar.”

Startled at the sudden barrage of information, you abruptly sat up, eyes wide, sleep suddenly the very last thing on your mind. “What?”

The next morning was dreary. 

It was a rare thing for rain to grace the capital, as it was usually arid and warm. But the skies were grey and thunderous, miniscule pinpricks of water beginning to fall from the dark clouds. You stood on your chamber’s balcony, enjoying the cooler temperatures and the light drizzles dampening your skin, your hair, your sleeping shift. It’d been several moons since it last rained—compared to your original home, the Riverlands, King’s Landing simply paled in comparison. How you missed the feeling.

Aemond, on the other hand, seemed indifferent to the change in weather. He stepped out to join you, one of his spindly hands reaching out to grasp the damp fabric around your waist, the other moving upward to tilt your chin so you’d look at him.

“How beautiful you are, ābrazȳrys,” he whispered, trailing kisses down from the corner of your lips to your jaw. The Valyrian word for wife was uttered with an extra husky tone. “The hour is quite early—the children are still fast asleep.” There was a rough, needy scratch to his voice, indiscreetly conveying his lustful intentions.

With a wanton grin, you replied breathily, “Fuck me in the rain, Aemond. Fuck me until I can’t wa—”

Before you could finish your sentence, Aemond was already shoving you up against the stone railing, his hot mouth slanted desperately over yours. You kissed him back with just as much vigor, curling one of your legs around his waist. Already, you could feel his length hardening, pressing against your lower stomach.

You moaned lewdly into his mouth when the hand that had been under your chin snaked further downwards to grasp at your breasts through the drenched shift, his nimble fingers pinching at your sensitive peaks. His other hand relinquished his grasp on your waist, slipping beneath the fabric between your thighs and running a finger through your folds. The action made you cry out, grasping his forearms for dear life.

“You’re already drenched for me,” Aemond susurrated, pulling away from your lips, which you had chased after with a sigh, littering kisses against your bobbing throat. “Ñuha jorrāelagon.” My love.

“Please, Aemond,” you croaked, needing more. “Please, I need you inside me.”

With a hum, Aemond swiftly shoved your damp shift up to bunch around your waist, leaving your lower half completely bare for him. 

“Who am I to deny you, embar?” he whispered, biting the outside of your ear, before slowly sliding his leaking, throbbing length into your cunt. “Fuck! Mmh—you take me so well, sweet wife.”

Slowly, he began rocking into you, prideful at the way you rolled your eyes into the back of your head. Your shift, clinging against you like a second skin thanks to the rain, made the motions of your heaving, bouncing breasts all the more enticing. He ducked his head to freckle kisses over your chest as he thrust into you, murmuring praises into the wet fabric.

A clap of thunder drowned out the obscene noises the both of you were making. 

Wildly, Aemond tore himself out of you, extinguishing the fiery complaints on the tip of your tongue by turning you over and pushing your stomach into the railing, so you could face the city. You were far too high up for anyone to clearly see, but the thrill of it was there, nonetheless.

Your husband slid back into you with a deep groan and a string of curses, sloppily pounding you from behind as he neared his peak. He wound an arm around you to languidly stroke at your pulsing clit, which had you bucking back into him with a surprised choke of his name.

It wasn’t long until you collapsed against him, your cunt clenching around his cock like a vice, white stars bursting out in front of your vision. Not too soon after, Aemond spilled himself within you, his hot cum dripping out of your core and down your thighs, panting against your shoulder. 

“Mmh,” you moaned once he slowly pulled out, so as to not overwhelm you with overstimulation. “I do hope it rains in King’s Landing more often.”

“If it leads to more of this, then so do I,” Aemond replied, turning you around with gentle touches to kiss you soundly. “For now, how does a hot bath sound?”

Myra’s shrieks of laughter echoed across the large chambers as she clumsily ran away from Syraena, who was enacting a large, hungry dragon searching for her prey. 

“Kepa, help me!” she screamed, scrambling to hide behind her father’s legs. Amused, Aemond picked up his youngest girl, setting her on his hip. His eldest clung to his shin, forcing Aemond to drag the both of them across the room as they squealed in delight. 

“Faster!” Syraena ordered. Aemond made a mental note to tell Criston he was most likely going to be late for training today, knowing his girls probably wouldn’t let go of him for the next few hours.

On the other side of the chambers, you sat by your son next to the fireplace, sipping on a chalice of spiced apple cider. Kyrion was sprawled out on the expensive chaise, the corner of his tongue poking out of his mouth as he concentrated on drawing on a piece of parchment with a coal-tipped pencil.

“Mother, look,” he said, pulling your attention away from your husband and the excited girls. The paper was pushed onto your lap, covered with black smudges and hastily drawn lines. “This is what I see in my dreams.”

You blinked, studying the drawings closer. “What is it, honey? Are those trees?”

His white hair flew every which way as he vehemently shook his head. His small hand pointed at the six figures, hovering a few inches above the uneven ground. “Those are people. They didn’t bend the knee.”

Horror’s dark fingers wrapped around your heart, and you reared back to stare at your son. “Kyrion, what is this? You… have you seen this?” 

His pale violet eyes met your terrified ones. “In my dreams,” he repeated, voice soft and tame, as if he hadn’t just drawn a picture of six lords hanging from the gallows. “You don’t have dreams like those?”

Still in shock, you shook your head, mute.

Kyrion studied you for a moment longer, before grabbing another sheet of paper to start drawing again. “You’re lucky, mother. Sometimes I feel it.”

“Why is that, Kyrion? What else do you feel?”

The little boy shrugged. “The milk curdles, the blood spills.” He fell quiet after that, clearly done with the conversation.

Struggling for words, you blew out a long breath, before looking back at the parchment. You leaned forward to press a kiss to his head, patting down his short white curls, before standing up and making your way to Aemond, his drawing in hand. Myra had somehow ended up on his shoulders, yelling for help as Syraena jumped around, trying to catch her little sister’s flailing feet.

“Mama,” the young river dragon cried, reaching out to you with tearful purple-blue eyes. “Syraena bit me!”

True to her word, there were shallow teeth marks imprinted in her chubby shin. Syraena grinned at her handiwork, looking none too apologetic. 

“Aemond!” you sharply reprimanded, which made your husband flinch at the sudden attention, puzzled as to why the blame was placed on him instead of Syraena. “Gods, did you just stand by and watch as your daughters mauled each other?”

“I was outnumbered, darling. They are vicious little things, our girls,” Aemond lightly replied, letting go of the golden-haired girl so she could cling onto you, sobbing into your neck. At your stern expression, Aemond added on, “Syraena, say sorry to your sister.”

With a quick tongue, she quickly said with years of rehearsed practice, “Sorry, Myra. Can I come watch you train now, Kepa?” 

Before he could reply, you stepped in. “Ah-ah, Syraena. You need to go to the Septa and apologize for running away from your lessons yesterday. You may be excused from embroidery and dancing, but that doesn’t give you the right to be rude.”

Glum, Syraena glanced at her father, who only beckoned her along. “Listen to your mother.”

With a heavy exhale, the silver-haired girl stomped out of the room to do as she was bid. 

You traced your hand along the bite mark on Myra’s leg. “It’s not too bad, sweetheart. Go on—go ask your brother if you can draw with him.”

Sniffling, Myra slid down from your arms and waddled off to sit by Kyrion, who wordlessly scooched over to make space for his little sister.

“What’s wrong?” Aemond asked, noting the worry in your expression. The once light-hearted atmosphere seemed to dissolve away in an instant.

Pursing your lips, you handed over the drawing. 

“Kyrion said he saw this in his dreams. People hanging… he said they didn’t bend the knee,” you whispered. 

Aemond studied the coal-streaked parchment, eye narrowed. “Perhaps that’s all it was… just a dream.”

“Or it could be a vision. Your father said it himself—our son is a dragon dreamer,” you responded, gripping his forearm. “Aemond, I’m worried that war is upon us. Sooner than we think it is.”

There was little Aemond could truthfully say to comfort you, and so he simply drew you close, breathing in your homely scent—pleasantly noting that he could still smell the rain on you. 

“It’ll be alright,” he murmured sincerely. “I won’t let anything happen to you, or our family. I’ll keep you safe.”

Blinking away the tears stinging the corner of your eyes, you pressed your nose against his throat. “I’m not sure you’d be able to, husband. Not in a war for the iron throne. Nobody is safe from that.”

Your law-sister, Helaena, had always harbored a gentle, sweet soul—a direct opposite to her brother and husband, Aegon. The very thought of being trapped in a loveless marriage, made to squeeze out heirs for a monster of a man was already nightmarish enough… you couldn’t fathom what it was like for Helaena to endure such a life. Nonetheless, she was often as happy as one could be, dreamily smiling and murmuring unintelligible words to herself. 

That evening you found yourself having tea with her, listening to her speak about the strange weather and the bugs she had found washed up in the gardens due to the rain. 

“Many worms, yes,” she mumbled, fiddling with a wooden carving of a cockroach. “Worms and drowned ants. Ants and drowned worms. Beetles, as well, yes.”

You smiled, glancing at her children, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, playing with yours—though Kyrion wasn’t really playing with his cousins, more just standing in the shadows and silently watching his sisters play with them. He truly was a copy of his father, after all.

“The poor creatures,” you surmised. “Rid of their homes and families just because of a bit of rain.” A bit of guilt twinged within your chest—just earlier today, you had told Aemond you wished for it to rain more.

“Oh, it’s not all that bad,” Helaena hummed, looking up at you with a mild grin. “Death gives way to more life. There will soon be new worms, new ants, new beetles. It’s simply the way of nature.”

You nodded, setting down your teacup. “I suppose you’re right. It’s just a shame that it has to happen in the first place.”

To your surprise and none of Aemond’s, all the childrens’ dragon eggs hatched within their cradles. They were growing larger and larger every day, being looked after by the dragon keepers before the children could ride them.

Today, Aemond took them down to the Dragon Pit, where his children were going to bond with their respective beasts. You were invited to come, as you always were when Aemond went off on his excursions with the kids, but you had wrinkled your nose and turned back to your book. 

“I have no taste for stinking of dragon today, thank you,” you curtly replied, grinning down at your book. “Don’t you think Myra is a bit too young to bond with her dragon? She’s only three.”

“It doesn’t hurt to get acquainted,” he swiftly replied, before bending at the waist to slant a sweet kiss to your hairline, before taking his leave to head out of his chambers and wrangle his kids down to the Pit.

They were excited to go, Syraena most especially, practically sprinting down the corridors. He called out after her to slow down, but she paid him no mind. 

The Dragon Pit smelled of smoke and charred meat and something distinctly dragon.

Keepers brought out the three dragonlings, playfully nipping at each other’s wings and yipping as if they were young pups. 

The largest of the trio was named Aerion—Syraena’s dragon. He was a slender beauty, with shining black scales and sharp, crimson wing membranes. With the Keeper’s nod, Syraena confidently marched forward, stroking her dragon’s head, a toothy grin plastered across her lips. Aerion seemed to purr beneath her touch, plumes of grey smoke falling from his nostrils.

Next to come forward was Kyrion’s dragon, his rippling scales a dark shade of green and sharp eyes a molten amber. “Tyvaros,” Aemond heard his son mumble his dragon’s name. “Tyvaros.” A bit more timid, Kyrion hesitantly stepped forward and, with the Keeper’s approval, he reached out for the small green dragon. He was the calmest of the three, leaning forward to gently nudge his head against Kyrion’s shoulder.

The smallest of the hatchlings was Goldentooth, a pale, cream-hued dragon with aureate spikes running down her back and along her tail. She was Myra’s to claim, having been the very last to hatch. 

“Go on, Qelbar.” He gently nudged his flaxen-haired daughter forward. River, he affectionately called her. “Don’t you want to bond with her?”

Myra nodded, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. “What if she doesn’t like me?”

“I can’t see a reason why she wouldn’t like you,” he calmly responded, patting her back. “Your brother and sister are getting along with their dragons just fine. It took me a long time to bond with a dragon, as well. You’ll get there, eventually.”

His words seemed to instill some courage into her, and so she shuffled along to the last Keeper, murmuring hello to her dragon. It wasn’t long until the fear subsided, and the small dragon was already climbing all over her arms and shoulders.

After an hour of bonding, the Keepers were hoarding the dragons further down into the Pit for feeding, and in turn, Aemond took the children back up into the Keep. They all stank of dragon, something you definitely weren’t going to be happy with, but had wide smiles on their faces nonetheless.

There was a hearing carried out on the subject of the heir to Driftmark (which was settled in an unsettlingly gorey manner, courtesy of Daemon Targaryen), which meant Princess Rhaenyra and her sons were back in King’s Landing for quite a while, to Aemond’s displeasure. You, on the other hand, bore no ill-will to the Princess, and were rather excited for the royal dinner to be held the next day. 

The night after Vaemond’s beheading, Kyrion had tugged on your skirts and asked if you could accompany him to the library so he could return his book.

“Alright,” you told him with a small smile. “But we must be quick about it—the hour grows late, and I can see how sleepy you are.”

The purple-eyed boy nodded, taking your hand as the two of you made your way down the dark corridors, to the library. When the both of you turned the corner, you nearly ran straight into Lucerys, jumping back in surprise.

“Oh, Gods! My apologies, my Princes,” you exclaimed, flustered at the sudden appearance of Rhaenyra’s sons. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

Lucerys tilted his head. “No need to apologize, Lady Tully.”

“Targaryen. Tully is my maiden name—I’m married to Prince Aemond now,” you gently corrected. 

“Evidently so,” said Jace, glancing at your son with a polite smile. “This must be my little cousin. Kyrion, isn’t it?”

The white-haired boy stared up at him with his pale eyes. “Ice and fire. Arrows and seas. Pacts and death. I saw you in my dreams.”

“Kyrion,” you hastily reprimanded, mortified that your son was speaking of death in front of Princess Rhaenyra’s eldest son, gathering the small boy up in your arms. “Sorry, he must be tired. It’s his bedtime—” 

“He doesn’t look much like you, does he?” Lucerys observed, finding it eerily strange to be staring at a little boy that was a near carbon copy of the bane of his childhood. 

Brows furrowing, you hesitantly replied, knowing the stale animosity between him and your husband, “I… I suppose not, my Prince. He takes after his father. My daughters, too.”

“Ah, then we must arrange to meet them. I’m sure your children would enjoy playing with my little brothers, Aegon and Viserys. They must be around the same age,” said Jace in an amicable manner. 

Before you had a chance to respond, a familiar voice spat, “And why, pray tell, do you think I would ever allow my children near you and your filthy kin?” 

Aemond appeared from out of the shadows, features set in one of cold fury. Both Jacaerys and Lucerys took a step back, shoulders stiffening. They had seen him training earlier today—it didn’t go past their notice that he had become incredibly skilled in combat over the years. In no way would either of them be a match for him. 

Wary not to allow a fight to break out, you reached out to place a calming hand on his arm. “Aemond—” you gritted out.

“Leave us,” he growled.

Teeth gnashing together, you shook your head and whispered, “Aemond, I don’t want there to be any bad blood between us.”

“Take our son and go,” he said, more gently this time. To you, Jace and Luke were just boys—sweet boys with kind hearts. To Aemond, however, they were the monsters who took out his eye. They were a threat to him and his family’s safety.

Exchanging a worried glance between him and Jacaerys, who nodded at you to take your leave, you blew out a frustrated breath, before hastening away with Kyrion in your arms. It seemed the two of you would have to take a trip to the library another day.

Lowering his voice, Aemond calmly told the two brothers, “Speak to my wife or my children again, and I’ll have the both of you fed to my dragon.”

Luke swallowed nervously, but Jace stood his ground. 

“Is that all, Uncle?” he challenged, eyebrows cocked. 

Aemond fixed a sharp glare on them, nose upturned. With an irritated grunt, he turned and strode off after you, leaving the two bastard boys stunned and mildly confused in his wake.

Once he had made sure his girls were safely tucked in their beds, Aemond paid his son a visit, sitting by his side.

“I apologize for interrupting your trip to the library, water dragon,” he murmured, patting down the boy’s messy white curls. 

Kyrion chewed on his bottom lip in thought. “Why don’t you like them, Kepa?”

Aemond’s single eye searched his son’s gaze, completely sincere in his curiosity. “A story for another time, when you’re older,” he replied. “Your mother said you’ve been drawing what you see in your dreams. Can you tell me about them?”

“Which ones?” he asked.

The one-eyed man felt sick at the thought of his little boy having to watch a thousand lives pass by in his visions, most having to inevitably end in death. It was a curse to be a dragon dreamer, he thought with a grimace. A burden.

“Whichever you want to tell me about, tresy.” Son.

Kyrion’s pale eyes seemed to mist over, and he fixed his gaze on a random candle across the room. “I see you wearing a crown. You sit on the Iron Throne.”

A beat of silence. “What?”

It seemed his son had mistaken Aemond’s befuddled expression for anger, as he shrank away from his father with a frown. “I’m sorry, Kepa. Don’t be angry with me.”

Aemond softened. “I’m not angry, Kyrion. I was just… shocked.”

Not all of Kyrion’s visions came true, did they? Aemond tried his best to wrack his mind for the dozens of times his mystic ramblings lead to nowhere. 

“I also see mother sailing away on a ship with Syraena and Myra. She looks sad,” he quietly spoke. “I don’t like that dream very much. Can I go to sleep now, Kepa?”

Blowing out a small breath, Aemond mustered a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach his worried eye. “Yes, of course. Sleep well, little dragon.”

Hastily, he stood back up on his feet, blowing out the candles around Kyrion’s chamber, before striding out the door. His head was spinning with a million thoughts at once, his son’s wispy voice echoing within his mind.

A crown on his head. His wife and his girls on a ship. Seven hells… what was to become of his family?

Myra was humming a sweet song of summer, chubby cheeks rosy with the warm breeze that blew through the Godswood. She was seated in front of you over a yellow blanket situated on the ground. In your hands, you were weaving the little girl’s golden hair into an intricate braid, small wildflowers slotted in between the crevices. 

A little ways away from the both of you, Syraena was running circles around the Weirwood tree, fighting off invisible enemies with a long, wooden stick she claimed to be her sword. 

“There you go, darling,” you said, patting Myra’s shoulders once you were done. “Syraena, come here! I want to fix your hair!”

Your eldest girl huffed and puffed as she stomped over, her short silver strands sticking up every which way. “What’s there to fix?” she grumbled, plopping down in front of you.

“Perhaps if you hadn’t foolishly sliced it all off with a shard of glass, it wouldn’t resemble an uneven rat’s nest sitting upon your head,” you reprimanded. 

Giggling, Myra clapped her hands. “Rat’s nest!” she parroted.

Syraena scowled. “It’s not fair. You let Kyrion have short hair. I want to be a boy, like him.”

“If you wanted short hair, you could’ve just asked. Lailena would have gladly cut it for you,” you said, brandishing a wooden comb to gently run it through Syraena’s thin silvery strands. “Do you want to know what your father said when I was first pregnant with you?”

Syraena shifted with a grimace as you yanked at a knot in her hair. “What?”

“He said he didn’t care whether you were a boy or a girl. That you were his blood, regardless. His tempestuous sea dragon,” you said with a small smile, mimicking a sour face at her nickname. “And Kyrion came next, our tranquil water dragon. Then lastly, Myra, our sweet river dragon.”

When you were done, you had Syraena turn around so you could inspect her hairline, brushing back any stray bits of hair that escaped your comb. “All finished. Beautiful, handsome… I’ll call you whatever you want me to call you, sweetling.”

She chewed at the inside of her cheek, nodding. “Can I go play knights with Jaehaerys now?” 

“Go on,” you lightly nudged her away, an exasperated smile tugging at your lips, knowing full and well her hair was going to be all mussed in no less than half an hour of playing. 

Before Syraena could get up and scramble away, however, a figure approached the three of you. She was clad in a black cloak, detailed with fine red thread in embroideries of flames and dragons. Golden jewelry decorated her pale skin, her long hair like sheets of pure snow.

The Princess Rhaenyra.

“Princess,” you breathily greeted, mind flashing back to last night, when you had bumped into her sons. 

You were about to get up to bow, but Rhaenyra quickly said, “No need, Lady Y/N. My apologies, I wasn’t aware the Godswood was occupied. If you’d like to be alone—”

“Oh, no, it’s quite alright, Princess. It’s a space to be shared, after all,” you said with a courteous smile.

Rhaenyra studied you carefully, her purple eyes taking in your form. It was a strange thing, she thought. You were married to her half-brother, and mothered her childhood friend’s grandchildren. A childhood friend that was her friend no longer.

With you, however, perhaps the story could be different. 

A genuine smile graced the Princess’ lips. “These are your girls?” she asked.

The taller and older of the two most certainly took after her father, with her sharp features and silver hair, though she bore your eyes and your smile. The younger was plump with a softer face, and had more blonde than white hair, her large eyes a deep shade of violet.

“Yes, this is Syraena, my oldest. And this is Myra,” you told her. “My son Kyrion is in the library at the moment, with his father.”

“His father,” Rhaenyra echoed quietly, voice distant. The memory of little Aemond in front of her, eye slashed out, and Luke cowering behind her with a bleeding, broken nose flashed into her mind. Clearing her throat, she reeled herself back into the present by saying, “Your children are very beautiful. Have you considered any potential suitors for them yet?”

Your eyes widened simultaneously as Syraena’s head whipped up to stare at you.

“No,” you replied, a tad too quickly. “I don’t think I’d want to subject them to that until they come of age. Or until they want to.”

The Princess tilted her head to the side with a mild laugh. “If your daughters were anything like me when I was a teenager, then you’d find the latter quite a challenge.”

“Yes, Queen Alicent has told me of your youth… how you rejected nearly all the contenders for your hand,” you replied. “I can’t say I could relate. Aemond was my first and only suitor.”

She hummed in thought. “I only asked because I just had my sons betrothed to their cousins.”

Right. Jacaerys and Lucerys were to wed Baela and Rhaena. 

So that was why she asked. She wanted to know if Alicent was scheming, just as she had been. Betrothals and weddings were equivalent to political currency in times of war.

“I don’t plan on wedding my children off any time soon,” you reassured her. From the corner of your eye, you could see Syraena’s shoulders loosen up. The prospect of marriage was not one she was particularly interested in.

“I see,” Rhaenyra said, though her face was much more relaxed now than before. “I shall go wash myself before supper tonight. I look forward to seeing you there.”

With that, she turned to take her leave. Myra looked up at you with a toothy grin. “Can I come with you to supper?”

“It’ll be past your bedtime,” you said, rising to your feet and picking her up to place on your hip. “But I promise we can spend the entire day together before that. Come on, Syraena, I’ll drop you off at Jaehaerys’ room.”

That evening’s royal supper was a disaster.

It started off well enough, with several toasts from the adults, and an additional one from Jacaerys dedicated to his uncles and his cousins’ good fortune. The King gave one long, hunkering speech on unity and the togetherness of the dragon’s house, wheezing through his words all the way. 

Only then did the feast begin, consisting of a large assortment of roasted meats and soups and plates of steaming bread. There were also cold platters of appetizers passed around, full of cheeses, figs, and grapes. Viserys had barely eaten a bite before he had to be escorted back to his chambers, past his point of exhaustion.

Aegon had spent most of the dinner tormenting Jace and Baela on their future marriage. When he grew bored of his nephew’s stoic demeanor, he turned to you, his good-sister. It was evident the Prince was quite drunk as he blathered on and on about the most trivial topics as you gingerly drank your hearty soup, though you didn’t have much of a stomach for it anymore. 

The last of the toasts came from Helaena as she congratulated Baela and Rhaena on their betrothals, subtly dunking on her husband before she drank with a dreamy grin. 

Not too long after, music started playing, a symphony of strings and bells, and Jace had offered his hand to Helaena, much to Aegon’s dismay. 

In an effort to retaliate, Aegon leaned close to your ear, placing a hand on your thigh beneath the table. You had jerked away from his touch, glancing at Aemond, who sat on your other side. 

“Care for a dance with me, good-sister?” He smelled of wine and a general foul dampness.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “That’s quite alright, my Prince. I don’t think you’re in a state to dance with me.”

“Nonsense, Lady Y/N, I am as sound as the day I was born!” he drunkenly hiccuped, words slurring together. His hand found its way back to your thigh, fingers gripping tighter this time. You tried to yank your leg away, nearly standing up with the effort.

Sensing your discomfort, Aemond growled out, “Leave my wife alone, brother.”

The song drew to a close, and Helaena returned to her seat, beaming brightly. 

“Or what?” Aegon cackled, clearly enjoying seeing his brother get riled up. Thankfully, his hand slipped away from your leg to grip another chalice of wine. “What will you possibly—”

Before he could finish, Jacaerys stood between you and Aegon, offering his hand.

“If I could have this dance, Lady Targaryen?” he asked, emphasizing the family name in memory of your correction last night. His expression bore one of concern, obviously coming here to offer you an escape from Aegon.

Sparing a glance to your husband, who had taken to silently bristling, you nodded once.

“Of course, my Prince,” you said, taking his hand. Much to your satisfaction, Aegon had looked like he was struck across the face. 

Off the two of you danced—spinning and twirling and laughing the entire time. Aemond was never too fond of dancing during the celebrations, always cautious of the stares, much preferring to dance with you in the privacy of your own chambers. Watching you openly have such fun with Jacaerys, however, made jealousy coil tight within his abdomen. You were smiling so widely—a smile that he had the joy of seeing every morning. To see it elicited because of his bastard nephew kindled an envious, green flame inside him.

Then came the pig. 

And Lucerys’ none-too-discreet giggling.

Something in Aemond snapped.

The music halted as he slammed his fists onto the table, and his wife hastily stopped dancing with Jacaerys to see what the commotion was. 

Of course, Aemond simply couldn’t help himself. In front of the entire family, he called his nephews Strong boys.

Pandemonium broke out. Jacaerys had let go of you to storm forward and land a punch on your husband, which seemed not to affect him in the least, shoving the brown-haired boy to the ground. 

Aegon, eager to join the chaos, had grabbed Lucerys by the scruff of his shirt, shoving him into a searing platter of fish. “A gift for the new Lord of Driftmark!” he announced with a wild, manic grin.

In the end, Daemon had been the one to put a stop to the scuffle, staring down Aemond with raised brows. With a frustrated hum beneath his breath, your husband stormed out of the mess hall, making his way upstairs to your shared chambers.

You scrambled out after him, lifting your skirts to give you space to run. It was improper to leave without bidding the rest of the family goodbye, but then again… nothing about the dinner had been proper at all.

Once you had rushed into the room, Aemond roughly slammed the door shut, pushing you up against it. His fingers were already undoing the laces on your back, his lips sealing shut over yours.

“Aemond,” you murmured against him, lightly pushing at his chest. “Stop, for just a minute.”

Your husband pulled back at your request, single violet eye ablaze.

“What… Gods, why would you do such a thing? Why would you go out of your way to torment them?”

“You know very well why,” he quietly gruffed, reaching behind to pull off his eyepatch, tossing it onto a small table by the door, the sapphire in place of his lost eye gleaming dully beneath the moonlight. Your lips parted to ask him something else, but he cut you off by gripping your chin, whispering in a possessive fashion, “Hush, ñuha dōna embar. Seven hells, you’re more beautiful than ever. And you’re all mine.” My sweet sea.

“Don’t hush me!” you hissed, brows knitting together. “Aemond, Jacaerys will one day be the crown prince when Rhaenyra ascends the throne. It is not wise to provoke them in such a manner.”

Blowing out a heavy sigh, Aemond stroked your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. “They’re bastards, my love. The throne is not theirs to take. And my sister… the realm will not accept her as their ruler. You know this, jorrāelagon.”

“They swore an oath! Our families swore oaths to her. I don’t know about you, but I’m not too keen on becoming an oathbreaker,” you reminded, softening beneath his touch. “Aemond, I don’t want to fight with you. I just don’t want you to do that again. If not for me, then for our children. Don’t go picking fights where it’s not needed.”

Aemond shut his weary eye. If Myra had seen him tonight, she would surely be afraid of him.

“I’m sorry, my love. I’m sorry. I got caught up in my anger.”

You leaned forward to kiss him, soft and gentle, and Aemond wasted no time in reciprocating, pressing you back against the door. Off came your dress and down came your styled hair with Aemond’s skilled fingers. In no time, Aemond had your legs wound around his waist, his coat unbuttoned and shirked off somewhere behind him. Your drenched core was pressed right against his throbbing length, rock hard and leaking with pearly beads of precum.

“I love you, more than anything, more than life itself,” he murmured against your throat, gently nipping at the skin there. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, Aemond,” you moaned wantonly when one of his hands snaked down to thumb at your clit. “Please, I’m yours, please fuck me.”

With a satisfied hum, Aemond planted a deep kiss onto your parted lips, a groan rumbling from his chest when you bit into his bottom lip, eyes hooded. He lined his cock up, before sinking into you with one smooth motion, his forehead falling into the crook of your neck.

You held onto him for dear life when he began to rock into you, scratching faint crimson lines down his toned back. The pain seemed to only spur him on, and he shifted his angle to pound into you deeper, your eyes rolling into the back of your head at the pleasure.

“Fuck!” he bit out. “So good, ābrazȳrys. Feels so good around me.” 

He moaned when you clenched around him, his breath hitching when you slid your hands up into his hair and yanked with no abandon. In no time, he could feel you coming undone around him with a litany of colorful curses, shaking almost violently in his hold. In turn, Aemond came inside you with a shout of your name, rocking into you once, twice, thrice more.

Slow, he pulled out of you, watching the cum drip out of your spent cunt with great satisfaction. He kissed you sweetly, nose nudging against your cheek.

“I’ll get you cleaned up,” he softly said, carrying you across the room to set you down on the bed. “Go to sleep, love.”

“Mm, I love you,” you murmured. A ghost of a warm smile etched into the corner of his lips. He repeated the sentiment to you, but you had already drifted off to sleep before you could hear it.

King Viserys was dead. Rhaenyra and her children were gone, having flown back to Dragonstone earlier in the day.

And already, Aegon was to be crowned King.

You were none too happy about the turn of events, but you were to turn the cheek and play the part of the faithful wife, for the sake of your family and their safety. The lords who had refused to bend the knee to Aegon were either thrown in the dungeons or hanged, labeled as treasonous traitors to the realm. It was just like Kyrion had drawn, as he claimed to have seen in his dreams.

“A beast beneath the boards,” Helaena had constantly murmured, which frightened you to no end. 

It was only worsened when Kyrion would reply with, “Bursting red, red in the sky, the sun in her mouth.”

Syraena was rupturing at the seams with a constant stream of questions—questions you had no such answers to. And your youngest daughter was crying the entire day, sensing the tense, fragile atmosphere. Your husband had gone to find Aegon in the slums of King’s Landing, who had unsurprisingly disappeared in thin air. 

Not before long, he was dragged back into the Keep, and the coronation commenced above the Dragon Pit. The beast beneath the boards broke out only minutes after the crown was placed on his head. Hundreds of commoners and smallfolk were killed in the commotion. Princess Rhaenys rode her scarlet dragon, the Queen That Never Was mounted on the Red Queen of Dragons.

Aemond had shoved you back, protectively standing in front of you, though there was very little he could do. The both of you were immensely grateful the children were left in the castle with Lailena, safe from the chaos and the havoc. If you were to die today, you’d be dying in Aemond’s arms, knowing your children were safe for the time being—what better way was there to die?

But neither of you died that day, for Meleys had only screeched out a shrill warning, before clambering out of the Pit, and absconding to the clouds. Red in the sky.

Aemond had ushered you to the Keep, before hugging you tight in the secluded privacy of your chambers, genuinely terrified that he could’ve lost you. 

The next day, he was already leaving again. He was to go to Storm’s End to broker a deal with Borros Baratheon: a marriage proposal between his brother Daeron and one of the Lord’s daughters. It seemed that betrothals truly were the realm’s political currency now.

“I want to come with you, Kepa,” Syraena said, staring up at her father with narrowed e/c eyes. “Let me come with you!”

Expression softening, Aemond ruffled her already-mussed hair. “It’ll be a quick trip. You can come to the next one, Syraena.”

The next goodbye was for his son, who hugged his father loosely. “An eye for a pearl,” he mumbled, too quiet for Aemond to hear. 

Clutched to his leg, sobbing hysterically, was Myra, her cheeks damp and her dark, plum-hued eyes red-rimmed. “Oh, river, don’t cry for me. I’ll be back tomorrow, I promise.”

Finally, he turned to you, his hand on the back of your head as he kissed you, chaste yet passionate, and rested his forehead on yours. “Stay safe in here, my dear sea.”

“Storm’s End is wet and cold and… obviously stormy. Keep yourself warm. Don’t get struck by lightning, is all I ask, husband.”

“As you wish, love,” he whispered, before ducking his head to kiss your cheek. With a laugh, he pried his sweet girl away from his leg, lifting her up to chastely peck her forehead, and then handed her bawling form over to you. She was always this way when Aemond had to leave for longer than a day.

The four of you watched Aemond head out of the Keep. Unease roiled within your stomach with his absence. 

“Three days for the pearl to wash ashore,” said Kyrion. There was a pallid tone to his skin, and he glanced at you with his large, pale eyes. “Mother, I’m scared.”

“Come,” you quickly said, ushering the children to their chambers. “Let’s go play with Auntie Helaena and Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, yes?”

It was late the next night when Aemond returned. The moon glowed in a sliver of its regular size, the crescent unnaturally bright in the dark sky, void of any stars. You were standing out on the balcony, sleeping shift rustling with the warm wind when the doors behind you creaked open.

Rainwater dripped from his cloak as he stepped in. 

Drip, drip, drip.

His single eye was wide and haunted, expression so far that it seemed like Aemond wasn’t even in the same room as you. 

“Aemond?” you called out, stepping back into the chambers and crossing the room in quick strides to greet him. “Gods, you're sopping wet. Are you alright?”

It was as if he didn’t hear you, staring at the ground with parted lips. There was an unfamiliar, raw sort of terror blanketed over his features, you could see it clear as ever. Your brows indented together, and you reached out to softly graze your fingers along his damp face. 

At the gentle touch, Aemond snapped his gaze to you. His hands were shaking.

Finding yourself at a loss for words, you roped him into an embrace, clutching his drenched form tightly against yours, uncaring that you were getting soaked in the process. This seemed to break him out of his reverie, as he began to tremble violently, and his chest thundered with silent sobs. His nose went directly to your neck and you hushed him with your free hand stroking the back of his head.

“Aemond, my love, what happened?” you asked again.

This time, he tried his best to answer you. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean it.”

“Didn’t mean what, darling?”

“Vhagar didn’t listen to me. I tried to stop her,” he croaked, pulling his ashen face away from the junction of your neck, searching your comforting face frantically. “I… I killed him. I killed Lucerys.”

Your lips parted in shock. There was little you could find to say—for what could you tell your husband, now a kinslayer? No amount of comforting words could fix a situation such as this.

When Rhaenyra would inevitably find out about her son, war would rain down upon you and your family.

With a thick throat, you tightly hugged Aemond again, tears gracing the corners of your own eyes.

The days passed in a blur. Aemond was quieter than ever before, regret painted over his sharp features each and every time you glanced at him. Once he told his mother, she had nearly gone down the same manic spiral, but steeled herself to deal with the Green council. 

When Aegon heard of his nephew’s death, he threw a large, grand feast, inviting all the Lords and Ladies at court.

Neither you nor Aemond attended.

The fourth night after Aemond had returned from Storm’s End, you were in Kyrion’s chambers, brushing away his ivory curls with tender hands as he settled beneath his fleece blanket to go to sleep. Aemond was putting the girls to bed by reading them a story, as the both of them were more restless than usual as of late. 

“Kyr, baby, I have a question for you,” you said, voice soft and hesitant. Should you really be asking your son this? When Kyrion tilted his head in a silent motion for you to continue, you cleared your throat. “In your dreams… Did you see what happened to your cousin, Lucerys?”

Your son nodded once, biting at the inside of his cheek, a habit that he seemed to share with you.

Before you could ask him what he saw, there was a sudden, dull thud heard outside, followed by the familiar screech of steel. Fear wound its cold, dark hands around your pulsating heart.

The door flung open so quickly that the hinges whined in protest. Your eyes fell upon the two guards in front of Kyrion’s chambers, sprawled over the cobblestone floor, dark ichor leaking out of slit throats. Two looming figures stood in the doorway. One large and burly, the other short and thin as a twig. 

You had no time to react, for a second later, the small one had darted forward, seizing you with surprising strength, brandishing coarse rope from thin air and binding your limbs together with tight knots, doing so with just one hand as his other was tightly sealing your mouth so you wouldn’t be able to scream for your husband, for more guards, for anyone. The other large man slammed the doors shut and barred them with one of his many swords he was carrying. The one holding you roughly gagged you with a cloth as soon as he pried his hand off, tying the ends around the back of your head. You gagged when your tongue registered the taste of coppery, day-old blood and sweat. 

Despite the hindrance, you screamed your throat raw through the cloth anyway, kicking furiously and struggling in desperation against the small man, who was adamant on keeping you rooted to one spot. Your yells came out muffled and guttural, but not nearly loud enough to alert anybody outside, seeing as the closest people to the chambers were now dead.

Your son whimpered out for you, but he remained quiet after that, his pale mauve eyes wide as he fixed his gaze upon the large, brutish man who slowly approached him.

“Don’t be scared, little fish,” the mousy man sneered gripping your cheeks so you’d be forced to watch your little boy cower further beneath his covers. “We’re simply debt collectors, you see. An eye for an eye, a son for a son. We just want ‘im. Won’t hurt one hair on your pretty lil’ head, ey?”

“NO!” you sobbed, struggling thrice-fold against him, to no avail. “Take me! Please, not my son!” you screamed, though it sounded like nothing but incoherent wailing through the dirty cloth.

You could do nothing but watch in horror as the large man tightened his grip on his longsword. The other hand reached out for your son, dragging him out of bed by the scruff of his sleep shirt so he dangled nearly a meter away from the ground.

“Don’t look, mother. I don’t want you to see it,” he whispered, just loud enough for you to hear through the thundering of your pulse in your ears, making your knees buckle. “I saw it in my dreams.” 

With one strike, the man lopped Kyrion’s head clean off.

Your heart seemed to stop for a moment. You screamed through the cloth, sobbing as you painfully crumpled to the ground, the gangly man finally releasing you. The blood… your son’s blood… his bed was covered with it. The walls behind him, the floor, the books on his desk…

Red, everywhere…

The two monsters had taken Kyrion’s head, the large man’s crimson-flecked fist gripping your son’s pearly-white curls, both fleeing the chambers in a blink of an eye. 

You sobbed against the ground, inching your way to your son with your bonds digging into you. You didn’t care. It was nothing compared to the pain within your chest.

“Kyrion,” you wailed through the cloth, using your shoulder to roughly shove it down your lips, letting it fall around your neck, tearing the corner of your mouth in the process. 

The entire Red Keep seemed to awaken with your grief-stricken scream. You kneeled your head against your little boy’s decapitated body, sobs wracking through your entire form.

That was what Aemond had rushed into, hearing the echoes of your cries from far away. He’d locked the girls’ rooms before coming, fearing the worst.

Upon seeing you on the ground, hovering over his murdered son, Aemond collapsed to his knees beside you, gathering his broken, shaking wife in his arms as he tugged you away. With trembling fingers, he undid the ropes around you, allowing you to throw your arms around him freely.

“Look away, jorrāelagon,” he said, voice uneven as he began to cry with you. “Look away.”

His words made you sob even harder… your son had told you to do just the same.

When Criston Cole came rushing in with Alicent Hightower, Aemond had immediately got to his feet, murderous revenge painted across his features. He helped you up, still crying hysterically.

“Mother, escort Y/N to our daughters’ chambers. Get a dozen guards to man the door. I’ll find our son’s murderer, and I’ll kill him myself.” He began striding away, Criston hot on his heels. 

You called out for him, voice hoarse with overuse.

Pausing in his steps, Aemond turned his head ever so slightly, but didn’t meet your gaze. He blamed himself, of course he did. He was ashamed, because it was his fault his son was dead. It was his fault he couldn’t protect him—that he couldn’t protect you.

It seemed that Aemond was far too blinded by his rage to learn from his mistakes.

“I need you here, please! Please, Aemond, please don’t go,” you sobbed, leaning your weight against Alicent, who had taken to cradling you against her chest.

A muscle in your husband’s jaw jumped. A tear slipped down from his only eye, and he continued to walk away, determined to bring justice to his son. It felt as if a searing hot knife had pierced through his chest and twisted when he heard your despaired cries ricocheting off the stone halls of the Keep.

Revenge, was all he could think of, cold anger dancing along the dark shadows of his face. If it is a war they want, it is a war they shall have.

a/n ; hey !! thank you for reading this fic until the end <3 means so much to me! i made some picrews of what i visualize the kids to look like so here you go !! they're all aged up, ofc.

[fortheb0ys]

BOTTOM WEREWOLF PHILLIP GRAVES × TOP VAMPIRE MALE READER

Happy Halloween!! This has been plaguing my mind non-stop. I love me some American boy🇺🇸🦅

CW: blood kink, monster fucking, breeding kink, rough sex, master kink, puppy play, last bit has cannibalism ( sorry lol.

FEM+MINORS DNI

Your teeth were buried in the back of Graves' neck, tasting his blood as you thrust into him. Your brain all haywire from the pleasure of Graves' tight heat and as red liquid coats your tongue.

You were fucking him doggy style, perfectly fitting your puppy boy.

Graves was pushing back on your every thrust meeting you halfway. His tongue his lulled out, drooling on the bloodstained sheets below. He was panting loudly, like the dog he is. His breaths came out short and ragged.

"God, puppy, you taste heavenly." You release Graves from your bite and lick you lips clean, wiping a trickle of blood that ran down your chin.

Pulling back to rest yourself on the heals of your feet while still being buried into Graves, you admire your work. Not in just the place you had just bitten but all along his back and shoulders were littered with bites both deep and shallow. His back red with blood. Any normal mortal would be dead but not Graves. He was a good boy. A terrifying werewolf turned into your puppy cock slut.

Your hand find it's way up to the red spiked collar around his neck, pulling him back, keeping him on your cock. A gold tag engraved with 'Blood Bank' on it, jiggles with each trust.

Graves felt shameful hearing himself be reduced to such a state but everything felt too much. Too good.

Whenever Graves was overwhelmed emotionally or in the case psychically, he would lose all control of his tail. It would just mindlessly wag. Whether if he was happy or mad. He wouldn't even noice till someone would point it out or more often than not, he'd hit it off someone. But in this instance, someone. That someone being you.

The quick wags of his tail was charming at first. Proud that you had fucked him cock drunk and stupid. But now it was hitting you against your side. It wasn't painful but it was more so beginning to throw you off.

After having enough, you let go of his collar and roughly grab Graves' wayward tail and pull him back onto your cock with it. A loud, surprised yelp sounds from Graves.

Your hand doesn't slow, pulling him quickly. His moans only get louder. His pathetic noises and the loud slaps of your balls hitting his ass rang loudly in Graves' ears. His ears being more sensitive than mortals, it was almost too much to bear.

He claws at the sheet, the pain and pleasure overwhelming him more than he thinks he can handle.

He justs wants to cum. His walls squeezed tightly around you. Graves brings his hand to grab his cock but you quickly stop him. Not gently, no. But by giving him an unexpected slap against his ass.

The hard slap shook Graves to his core and a jolt to his cock.

"Heel. Be a good boy and listen to your master. Can you do that?" You gently command, giving a little pat than messaging on the now blooming red mark on his backside. The gentle gesture in contrast to your rough treatment was sending Graves brain into a haywire frenzy. He tried to think of the words to relay an answer but when he opened his mouth to speak only heavy breaths were heard.

Tried of waiting for an answer, you lay two hard smack one after.

"I asked you something. Speak." Your tone now harsh again. Graves takes in short, quick breaths in, trying to will the strength to speak. He licks lips, noting how dry his throat was, he manages to muster up a weak, 'yes.'

Your grip on his tail tightens again, pulling him back even harder. Any harder, Graves could swear you'd be able to rip it clean off of him. A whimper escapes his throat as his hand finds itself back to the ripped sheets.

He closed his eyes as the humiliation settled in, his face red. He whimpered once more and you began abusing his prostate, hitting it with every trust.

" 'M a good boy. P-please let puppy cum."

Your cock throbs inside him. Hearing him beg always made something stir in you. Just hearing a feared commander come undone at your every whim and well was something to be proud of.

"God, you whimper like a fucking puppy." You sneer, fangs beared.

You begin to slam harder into him, knocking to breath from his lungs. Your hold is still on his tail, as you pull it to meet his thrusts.

"You'd look so good bred. You wanna be fucked full, don't ya?" You tease farther.

"P-please..please." Graves crys out, tears now streaming down his face. He was sure what he was asking for. They were just all the words he could manage.

"Almost there. Your doing so good for me."

You feel your release near, your thrust begin to get sloppy. Graves cries became louder as moans and incoherent sentences fell from his tongue.

"M-master. I want to see your face." He did want to see your face but he more so he wanted your grasp off of his tail. He prayed you'd have mercy and do want he wanted. They were answered when you let go of his tail and let your cock slip out. A sense of relief washed over him but was quickly cut when you flipped him on his back. You push his legs till he was practically folded in half. With one quick, rough thrust, you bury yourself back into his ass.

You pace is set fast once agian, chasing release. Graves cries with each thrust, tears are pooling in his eyes. His legs are trembling under your palms. You sink your teeth into his thighs, the taste of blood touches your tongue. You bite than lick the blood off, moving to another spot when satisfied, repeating the cycle again.

You look up from between Graves' legs and your eyes meet, pupils blown out with lust. Behind Graves' eyes there a plea. Seeing it you know what he wants before he could get the words out. You decide you'll give what he wants and bring you hand up to jerk him off. With just a few tugs, he cums into your palm.

You aren't far behind him. With one final bite to his thigh, you cum deep inside him with one rough thrust.

You both lay with the glow of sex. The only thing that could be heard was tired, deep breath. After a few moments you sit back, releasing Graves' legs. You pull out of Graves, watching your cum spill from his ass. Graves whines at the empty feeling, now missing you filling him to the brim.

You bring your hand to his face, still dripping with cum.

"Lick."

Graves diligently opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue at your one word command. You let his cum drip into his mouth. He brings his lips to your palm, lapping like a thirsty dog.

Graves licks the cum that dripped down your arm, moaning at the taste of himself. Without thinking he gives your skin a little nip. Much like you, he was a bitter. He looked at you apologetically. Bad dogs who bite get in trouble.

"It okay, puppy. You did so good for me. Good boys deserve a treat."

Now with your permission, Graves sinks his teeth farther into your arm. You could feel your flesh and muscle tear from bone beneath the iron grip of Graves' teeth. The pain was overwhelming but god, did it feel good. The smell of iron and cum hung heavy.

He rips off a large portion of your forearm. He innocently blinks up at you waiting any further commands. You can feel your missing flesh heal, knitting back together muscle and skin.

"Go on. Swallow."

With one gulp, Graves feels it go down his throat. Your taste was overwhelming. His tail begins to wag as he smiles happily at his job well done.

"You're such a good boy, Graves." You smile back at him, giving him a pat on the head. He buries his nose in your neck, inhaling your scent.

"I'll always be your good boy, Y/N."

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

[ghoulphile]

corruption kink anon again (srry for spamming you I just have a lot of ideasss): At the beginning your shoulders brush and you shift away with a barely hidden look of disgust. "Now, don't be like that. Lots of folks like the idea of me touching them." Coop would mumble, pulling off his gloves with his teeth. He'd catch your eyes and wink, notice your grimace as well as your cheeks flushing. "After all, it's ribbed for your pleasure." Even though the particular reference is over 200 years old, the implication isn't lost on you. Not when you turn away completely from him with a quick noise of disapproval. He would chuckle, letting his legs fall open as he relaxed fully tipping his hat so he could see you, but not the other way around. He would get real comfortable, maybe even place a hand on his belt for added measure. He loves that you stare at his dick through his pants, hoping for a peak of what's under the faded fabric. And he especially loves the way your pupils dilate when you start staring too long, getting lost in thought as you chew at your lower lip. Sometimes he splayes his legs out to the approximate space that you would fit in to, just to feed your imagination.

💀 And when you finally can't take it anymore and do sink to your knees before him, fingers brushing curiously over his crotch, he leans back and watches.

Those intense eyes stripping you bare as you stroke along the curve of his cock, see the fabric pull taut as it fills out. Watch with wide eyes as it twitches.

"Heh, you really wanna take a peek, don't you, darlin'?" His thighs spread wider in invitation, emphasizing the thick bulge of his erection. "Why, be my guest."

You exhale through your nose at the clink of his belt buckle, your fingers shaking as they grasp at the zipper and tug, the sound of the teeth popping free scraping down your spine.

It shouldn't surprise you that he goes commando, and yet...

When his cock springs out with a heavy smack against his lower belly, you nearly swallow your tongue. He's so girthy, your fingers have no hope of fully encircling it. The skin is rough, ragged - little patches of texture and ridges of ropey scar tissue decorating the shaft.

All you can do is stare, eyes tracing along the thick vein that pulses on the underside, the sticky ooze of pre-cum beading on the fat tip. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, like there's a nuclear reactor boiling just beneath the surface.

And you know there's no fucking way that's going to fit (unless he forces it to).

He tsks, reaches down with a gloved hand to grope at himself. Rubs his knuckles over his balls before grabbing the head between his fingers and squeezing until the pre dribbles from him in a long string of fluid.

"Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?"

"I--"

He sucks his teeth, taunts, "Why the sudden change of heart, huh? You was gaggin' for it just a minute ago. Too gross lookin' for you - s'that it?"

"No!" you protest, a spike of panic shooting through you. Maybe once upon a time but not anymore. You're long past that. "No, I just - there's no way that's going to fit."

"Ah, I see." He smirks, a dark, crooked little quirk of the mouth. "Well, then, if that's all you was worried 'bout... get ta work."

"I'm sorry?" you blink.

"I ain't sayin' it again." He grabs the base firmly, uses his grip to hold his cock out towards your face. "It ain't gonna suck itself. Now, open up them pretty lips of yours. I'm gonna make it fit one way or another."

[tsuchishima]

❀ — JEALOUS!TSUKI X READER ๋࣭ ⭑ ❁

SUMMARY | Your boyfriend Tsuki invited you to watch him practice but he noticed that you kept looking the black-haired setter, Kageyama Tobio.

WC | 1.4k words ~ GENRE | fluff

A/N | I am still trying to figure out how I should format my fics, so forgive me if it looks a bit diff than my last post! I got a bit less creative with the main ending of the story. o(*￣▽￣*)ブ

( listen to some music while your at it! 🎧 )

another school day has just ended and your boyfriend, tsukishima has told you earlier to come by the volleyball court to watch him practice. so you grabbed your bags and exited out of room and made your way to the place.

once you stepped foot into the gym, you immediately spotted your beloved blond-haired man. he was practicing until he stopped because noticed you standing by the door. you smiled and waved at him, he did so as well. tsukishima then walked to you and he grabbed your bags of your shoulders.

"oh wait tsuki you don't need to do that! It's not that heavy anyways."

you tried to pull your bags from him but he held them tightly. "it's okay, and you said it's not that heavy no?" he insisted and carried your bags. following him, he placed your bags down in a spot in the court. some greeted you and of course you returned the favor, and there was this orange-haired person who was quite short but he greeted you and his energetic energy matched yours so you spent some time talking to him, and uh.. yea he was really.. quite the energetic one.

when it was time to practice, tsuki then said he'll be practicing with kageyama and reminded you that it might be boring, you shook your head. "don't worry about it! I'm honestly excited to see you play if I'm being honest." he nodded and walked off.

you can see tsuki practicing his spikes with a black-haired man assuming that was the 'kageyama' he told you earlier. you watched the black-haired setter do another set for tsukishima, and you can easily tell he was skilled at it. your eyes watched him intently— another flawless set was done.

without realizing it, you were staring at the him for quite some time. because you were watching the setter you didn't notice tsuki kept his eyes on you while he practiced.

when he noticed you looking at kageyama, tsukishima felt butterflies in his stomach but they weren't the good kind, it was more like spiders crawling in he can't really explain the feeling. being distracted by his thoughts he didn't realize what was happening.

kageyama did another set for tsuki and it was flawless. expecting it to be spiked, the ball dropped instead. your eyes then finally were pulled out from looking at tobio and moved on to tsuki. he was just stood there looking a bit lost in his thoughts.

the setter then turned around surprised because most of the time when they usually never miss a spike or set, unless the ball is a bit to high. "tsukishima?" kageyama called his name, pulling him out from his thoughts. "oh sorry, i was.. distracted.", the setter raised his brow at him. 'distracted? huh that's rare' he thought to himself. "focus" he said and they then continued on to practice.

after a few more minutes of practicing it was time for a break. "okay everyone!", daichi called out as he clapped his hands. "you all did well! let's take a break.", everyone then cooled down while kiyoko and yachi handed out fresh towels and bottles filled with water.

instead of tsukishima going to the group of noisy people he instead made his way to you, and settled down beside you. you remembered that you had bought snacks for you two, so you opened your bag and grabbed the packed snacks. you handed a snack and he took it.

both of you ate in a comfortable silence but it feels odd. tsukishima was too quiet, even for him. you peered at him with a questioned look, he then turned to glance at your eyes but he immediately looked away. he was acting... strange? his eyes were narrowed and he didn't talk much.. 'is he mad at me?' you asked yourself. you didn't want to start overthinking you just asked him straightforwardly.

"tsuki? are you.. okay? you're acting a bit odd." you said leaning towards him.

he then turned his face to you and without making eye contact. "why.. were you watching him.", he said in a quiet voice, his words were quite hard to catch so you asked him again. "uhh.. can you that again? please?", "why were you... watching him." he repeated it was louder than before but it's still not hearable, so you questioned him again. "sorry, tsuki.. i can't hear you.", you said leaning in closer with a hand behind your ear.

he groaned in frustration and puts his mouth near your ear. "i said.. why.were.you.looking.at.him" he uttered through his gritted teeth. now finally understanding what he said, sure you were taken aback a bit, but the corner of your mouth raised a little now that you realized he got jealous!

at first thought, you thought he was angry with you but instead it was just your boyfriend being jealous. a small stifled laugh came out of you while tsuki was feeling embarrassed with how you reacted.

he groaned. it was rare for him to get embarrassed when he's usually used to being the one embarrassing others. his cheeks were flushed and his face was feeling weirdly hot, so he buried his face on your shoulder to hide his pinkish face.

you giggled at him, then you placed your snack down and patted his head while also ruffling his soft curly hair. he emitted out a long sigh.

"awhh tsuki, i never imagined that you could get this shy." you teasingly say letting out another giggle. "whatever." you could feel his eyes rolling despite that you couldn't see his face. "hmm why does that bother you though??" you jokingly let out a dramatic gasp and faked your realization. "omg! tsuki?! you got jealous?!"

"w-what?! no!" he raised his head and his face only got more pinker than before. "mhmm sure-sure" your smug face only made him more embarrassed. 'that feeling from earlier.. maybe i did get.. jealous?' he thought so himself. honestly, we wanted to say what he had in mind earlier but it only came out as a scoff and rolled his eyes once again.

you only laughed at him again and took your snack and ate. "your face doesn't deny it though.", he made a heavy sigh and hid his blushing face on your shoulder. "whatever." he said moving closer to you.

you smiled and patted his back. "sorry for staring at him though, i was just amazed on how he played.", you then felt a pair of arms wrapping around you, his arms were longer than yours so whenever he hugs you it quite literally wraps your body.

tsukishima is doesn't usually show him being shy, or awkward in any way but it's honestly cute of him to be like this. letting out a happy sigh, you finished your snack and wrapped your arms around him too ♡.

[ insert commercial break song ]

meanwhile.. while the both of you were cuddling, two mischievous second years were watching the both of you. tanaka groaned at the sight of the couple being love-dovey and nishinoya was plotting something in his mind, and suddenly a lightbulb appeared above noya's head— an idea had sparked up inside his mind.

"hey tanaka! I got something!" he said and leaned in to whisper something in tanaka's ear. tanaka playfully grinned and nodded in sync with nishinoya.

they quietly creeped up behind you two. thankfully your eyes were closed and tsuki's face was buried on your shoulder. the pair took a look at each other and they touched both of your shoulders and let out a loud yell— making you and tsuki jump.

the second-years let out a loud laughter while they clutched there sides. tsuki growled because of the two ruining there sweet moment. tsukishima got up and started to head towards them and the pair only ran laughing while being chased by the tall first-year.

you were stunned from what was happening so you ended up only watching your boyfriend chase the two.

daichi very much noticed the three running around the court and he stood up from where he was sitting and pointed his arms to them. "YOU THREE! STOP THIS RIGHT NOW!" daichi said in a deep and commanding voice making them stop almost immediately.

"god.. you two really.. and tsukishima? why were you chasing them!?"

the now tired tanaka and nishinoya layed on the courts wooden floor and panted heavily, while tsukishima had his hands on his knees and was looking at daichi with a shocked face, wondering how he got scolded too.

watching them get scolded almost made you die laughing. it was a really hilarious scene to watch and especially with how tsukishima ran after the two!

→ m.list

[pinkanonwrites]

Cybertronian EM fields causing static electricity and making your hair stand up. Going in to give your favorite mech a hug (they are head over heels for you) and getting zapped. Playing with his EM field because static electricity fun but thats highly erotic to them. He cant tell you what you’re doing is kind of like groping a human through their shorts because that would mean having to explain that is EM field behaving like that around you means he loves you. So he just sits with his servos over his modesty panel while you go playing with his EM field. He has to find an excuse as to what the loud clunk sound was against his modesty panel before running off to his habsuite to crank it crazy style to the thought of you

YES YES YES YES YES YES YES I LOOOOOOOOVE this idea. Especially if you consider the idea that merging fields is the Cybertronian equivalent of heavy petting, and humans generate their own magnetic fields that are too weak for other humans to pick up on, but are definitely detectable to the average bot.

You were just having fun playing with the static, brushing your hands against your favorite bot's plating like you were playing with a plasma ball. The laughter you let out as your hair began to stand on end is burned into the bot's processor as they squirrel away in their habsuite, two digits deep in their valve with one hand and furiously jerking their spike with the other. If the feeling is already so intense just from you touching their armor, what would it feel like to have your hands on their internals? Or better yet, their spark casing? The shame hits them along with the post-nut clarity as they're guiltily swabbing up spilled transfluid, but the fantasy in the moment was far too good to ignore.

[sxplict]

✶ ⋆˙.⠀GIMME SOME TIL IM GOIN DUMB. ❜ ──────── shokosugu & shiuji.

SINCERELY , YOURS TRULY Ξ ©SXPLICT, 2024

明示的 ⌇ nsfw. fem!reader. pussy eating. sεx tape. overstimulation. riding. double penetration. bondages. choking. blowjob. doggy style. spanking. anal. crying. triple penetration. creampie. man handling. ( wc. 4k )

<– [ BACK ] : MLIST [ NEXT ] : MULTI ㅤ→

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𝐒 𝐇 𝐎 𝐊 𝐎 𝐒 𝐔 𝐆 𝐔

"⠀SMILE FOR THE , CAMERA , PRETTY.⠀"

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀" M ─ aybe next time you'll listen , hm , pretty girl?" raw adorning venom seeped through each breath of oxygen that fanned through the crisp air , the woman’s devilish words only the tip of the iceberg to her prolonged torment she rained down on your delicately sensitive body. flesh as tainted as a limousine window , eyes far too swollen to even begin visibly seeing her mouth moving. even if you so much as pleaded with her , the ball gag she practically embedded into your jaw halted any such desires from occurring , only allowing her to be the one talking whilst you endured every order she gave.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀the only way you could intake air was through your nose , yet even that was suffocating you with the rigid stench of erotica and bodily pheromones with each inhale you took. glossed eyes strained each passing second you held eye contact with Shoko , her piercing graze dragging needle pins along the plush of your heated cheek bones. no matter how many times you shuddered in pure delight , how much you drenched your gag in saliva that some trickled down the sides of your jaw , she continued to coo your whines and cries with a smile.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀much like any other couple , your day started off subtle. it was calming , peaceful even. however , that was entirely unnatural for you. you couldn’t put your fingers on it , not even for a brief moment. until you were lying in the woman’s lap , head resting along her thighs with a camera in your face for a future event that she had yet to disclose to you.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀it was frightening , to say the least. she’d never been one to be so closed off with you. but , you trusted her , so it had to be for a good reason.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"fuck~ sho , you keep talking to her like that and i’m gonna be rock solid." delighted by the moments ease , a vague 'pop' sound flowing through Suguru’s hoarse words when he pried his puffed and soaked lips from your pulsating clit.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀goosebumps were merely child’s play to describe how the flesh of your legs spiked once you’d been released from his grasp and allowed to tremble in peace. a heavy weight that once had your chest under its wrath was alas lifted , equally as heavy eyelids fluttering sheepishly. the below room temperature that breezed between your legs led lightning bolts up your thighs , but with the way you’d been used and abused for the past few hours , you had absolutely no energy left to close them from the draft.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀frugal mixtures of saliva and cum leaked through the sensitive folds of your pussy , hands bound by your wrists along your chest with a clip connected to your neck collar which stopped you from being able to cover it. Suguru’s taunting gaze leered upon your sweets , not a single movement being made and causing a nerve chilling sensation to spiral up your neck thinking about what his next moves were. it had your heart beating faster than a child on a rollercoaster. the adrenaline absolutely disgusting with each prattled breath you took.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀whilst your quivering figure lied diligently against the silk sheets of your king sized mattress , Shoko continued to talk into the camera , mocking your state of absolute bliss. all you could do was lay there as helplessly as a damsel in distress , staying true to what you actually were.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"now be a good girl and tell the camera how sorry you are , m’kay," your nods of obedience were much of a pleading dog begging its owner. she slowly unclasped the ball gag and watched you mouth words as if to speak , though for a few moments only air breezed past your dried lips.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"p—please sho , please , i—i swear i'll be a good girl. i—i promise. 'm sorry." hiccups found their way weaved into the sobs of mercy you wove into the frigid air around you.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀soulless eyes were met amidst your tantrum , brief motions being used as communication all the while your voice sunk deeper in the depths of silence. their looming aura’s would’ve suffocated you if not for another second of their sealed lips.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀a slither of saliva coaxed each of your own , curing the deserted fleshed that’d begun to feel as if you kissed sandpaper. vigilantly watching your lovers speak without words was far harder than learning to play an instrument , the tranquility more overbearing that sheet music. it was no help deciphering their plans for you when Suguru rose to his full height , his broad figure increasing his intimidation than usual. the apex of his knees had slowly found their way close to you , his shirt being tossed alongside your bed frame with his figure lay against the headboard.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀you hadn’t quite figured out how he suddenly appeared there , a few blinks whilst he shifted his position and he was no longer standing at the end of the bed. fear being a main factor in your thought process , you precisely observed Shoko’s movements next , watching as she placed the camera atop the headboard right above Suguru. the suction cup attached to it allowing the machinery to remain in its place.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀without a moments notice , Shoko had already crawled back down to you , sleek fingers curling around the chain that connected your wrists to your neck. your body followed closely behind , tethered whimpers loosely dripping off your tongue like sweat beads from your forehead. she guided you to your knees before her , a deathly grip slipping behind your neck with her opposite hand kneading the flesh of your ass.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀she caught each pathetic noise you cried out in her mouth , possessive lips latching onto yours and synchronizing your motion to how rigorously Suguru stroked at his base. his blazing gaze was no help to the burning knot that tore away at your lower organs. he loved nothing more than watching Shoko taunt and torment you from how high and mighty you acted on a daily. no matter how arrogant and egotistical you were , the moment doors were closed , you were nothing more than her pretty little play toy she’d tear down for hours.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀pondering thoughts filed your curiosity. filled each and every corner of you mind as you back tracked on how you thought you had them all figured out. how you truly believed that the night would end with a few prattled kisses from your dear girlfriend. it was the perfect send off, legs not too far from falling off with how inflamed they were. you were so close to allowing the endless void to succumb you. though , of course , Shoko had other plans. like always.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀it was unbeknownst as to how you ended up in such a position when you were just at the foot of the bed , but you were straddling Suguru’s waist, back facing him with Shoko yet again latching the ball gag around your mouth. with furrowed brows curling at her actions , Shoko quickly pecked your feverish cheeks. a subtle 'hm' was earned from you , yet she answered with nothing but silence and a simple head nod. that was tailed by Suguru lifting you above his tip , folds already sinking onto him by the time you processed what her notion was for.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀cries and moans were yet again barricaded by the choker , body falling limp into Shoko’s tender grasp whilst her tedious coos matched your sobs. "such a good girl , jus' like that. s'good for us , pretty." aiding your trembling figure had become a second nature to her with how much she enjoyed seeing you overwhelmed by her demands. it was truly adoring seeing you unfold into nothing more than a play thing for her.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀eyes rolled with each agonizing curl Suguru thrusted into you , they were precise and coordinated perfectly. he knew all your sweet spots just as well as Shoko did , being able to reach them a bit better than her. it was no help that Shoko’s hand had found its way to your clit rubbing circular motions along your sweet bundle of nerves which earned multiple vulgar moans of ecstasy to follow shortly behind.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀if not for her earlier greed and hunger , your body would be as pristine as ever. however , she’d ravaged you like a rabid animal before Suguru could get his hands on you , leading to your body being littered in more hickeys and bite marks than a mated lioness. furthermore , that fact was of no use seeing as she continued her skills along your neck , soaking up each cry you wailed on her shoulder you so dearly clung to throughout the entirety of their abuse.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀clasping flesh and husked groans could only be heard below the penetrating surface of your pitiful wails that clogged every sense the three of you had. Suguru’s firm grasp along you hips only added an extra boost to the euphoric mixture of pain and pleasure. how his calloused hands molded your skin to bare his grip , yet slender fingers extending all the way to your abdomen and delving into the surface , feeling how his thick erection poked at your womb with each buck of his own hips.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀orgasm after orgasm tainted your delicious walls , inner thighs brewing a much deserving fire for how long they’ve been spread over the course of four hours. eyes had begun to find solace within the inner sockets of your skull ; enjoying the comfort complete darkness brought in order to fully submerge you into the undying exhilaration.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀with a final collide of one’s hips , Suguru bottomed out entirely , head tossing back into the silk pillow cases that barricaded his head. hiccups surged through your core once more , the back of your head caressed by none other than Shoko’s delicate touch as she allowed your worn figure to slump into her chest. slumber had beckoned your conscious , weighted eyelids soon flailing to keep afloat.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𝐒 𝐇 𝐈 𝐔 𝐉 𝐈

"⠀TAKE IT ALL , PRECIOUS , YER DOIN SO WELL FOR US.⠀"

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀S ─ hrieked cries and tattered moans ricocheted through the dense vents that littered your measly one bedroom apartment , chain-stitches of flesh clapping against one another sown into the noises that reverberated within the core of the master bedroom.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀it was a common occurrence for the battered and decaying apartment complex , knowing good and well that two broad chested men shared the small proximity with a well-spoken woman who had each on a leash , tightly wrapped around her tiny little finger.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"shh~ , shh~ , s'okay. you're doin' so good for us , precious." coarsened palms briskly grazed along the flush of your swollen cheeks , thumb pads soaking up every mascara-ridden tear that dared to bore a burning streak down your flesh.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀though , the tender words of affirmation hadn’t come from the man who laughed in your face at how a contorted expression displayed across your features. they loomed behind your prissy perked ears , rigid breaths fanning the rim of them. the contentment was adding fuel to the fire , his delicate inflection the sparks that raked through the goosebumps across your back.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀if not for your bared teeth tugging at the skim of your lip , you too would add such ruckus to the already crowded air. with every rut and hip buck that was gutted into your palpitating figure , your desire to silence yourself had grown excruciatingly thin. as if you were fighting the urge to smack someone. nonetheless , Toji had taken notice to your prudence , a disheveled grunt rumbling against his chest whilst he guided his thumb into your mouth. rather than remaining like the quiet woman you once were , you’d begun to choke on how he delved the tip of his digit into your tongue , eyes tossing back further than a gymnast at the Olympics.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"g'na mold that pretty pussy of y'ers just how i like it." Toji’s voice was far from being as sweet as Shiu’s , an equally as rough blow being plowed into your ass cheek , a very firm and reddened print forging against your precious skin. he did it just so he could watch as you pathetically gagged along his thick digit , seeping further down your throat and watching the tears of mercy coax your already dampened face.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀you’d become accustomed to limp limbs whenever your pretentious lovers got ahold of your body , together. somehow , in some way , they’d always seem to be able to have your arms in their grasp , holding full control over you. even at such a time , Shiu withheld your forearms against the small of your back , spine arching farther than any chiropractor has ever handled you. the threatening grasp steered his abuse on your ass , allowing such vulgar and vigorous attacks on your exploited frame.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀disarrayed grunts synchronized with how he slickly eased through your hole , a white rim of blissful essence coating the base of his dick. looming dreadfully over your exposed back , eager eating away at his darkened eyes which fixated on nothing else but your trembled physique. Toji lied beneath you , equally as lust-fueled as your shared boyfriend , though his crimson gaze yearned for much more than to hear you scream his name.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀with an assailed mind , clouded in nothing more than furious erotica , you continued to bring warmth to their erections that’d scraped every last inch of your walls. they’d uncovered more hidden gems than a palaeontologist. being shoved between their abnormally large chests brought nothing more than unfeigned certainty about your surroundings. time was of the essence and you hadn’t a clue where you were after the first hour had gone by.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"yess~ uh , fuck! jus' keep clenching like that for me , pretty," if there was one thing you loved about Shiu , it’s that just his voice alone could make you cream. he was so gentle , so assertive when it came to you that it made your skin crawl with pure elation.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"look at 'em , look how much of a mess ya turn 'em into with that fuckin' ass of y'ers," , Toji’s fervored tone was merely taunting , large hands grasping your head much of a basketball just to turn you so you’d gaze backwards at Shiu.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀the sight alone heated each of your cores , Toji’s grasp returning to your neck as he held you there to watch how Shiu pummeled the girth of his erection into you. the reposition allowed him to release your aching limb , falling helplessly against Toji’s check prior to hoisting your upper body. with a loss of stability both mentally and physically , a pair of dangerously agile palms engraved into the sole of your waist , molding the fat of them into his fingers for an easier grip.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀liquids trickled down Toji’s inner thigh , yet another orgasm spewing from your pretty little cunt as they stuffed you more than a Thanksgiving turkey. sandpaper had replaced the once moisturized flesh within your mouth , mouth being hung open far too long. though , it was to no surprise with how they ravaged and ruined every aspect of your sweet body. the only time where you truly felt like the afterworld was only a knock away was when they unsynchronized their paces , the repetitive thrusts earning more juices to flood your walls than when they spent hours with their faces between your legs.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀replacing Toji’s hand at your throat with his own bicep curling around it , Shiu allowed the man to drag his calloused hands down your exposed body , thumb pads graciously breezing past your nipples on a whim. a surprisingly tender act from none other than Toji Fushiguro himself; lovingly admiring the beauty he claimed and molded perfectly as his own. blazing fingertips glided across the flesh of your breasts , an upward motion being subdue whilst he kneaded them intently.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"f-f-fuck , m'gonna cum~. ohh fuck , please shi~" with an arm pressing firmly into the heat of Shiu’s core , the other grasping at straws against Toji’s bare chest , your eyes zoned in on the ceiling above watching how it rocked back and forth with each belligerent runt they penetrated in you.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"me too , baby , s'okay. m'gonna fill you up so good , promise"

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"g'na make sure that perfect cunt of yours is filled to the brim. jus' how ya like it"

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀both men soothed your worries with their insistence , fingernails clawing at the sheer flesh of each of their bodies. it was no surprise you’d alas hit your inevitable orgasm , both men watching how you froze amidst the high and drenched the sheets below in nothing more than a pool of your juices. well , more than there already was.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀shrilled ecstasy blared from your quavering lips , limp figure collapsing straight into Toji’s grasp that welcomed you with ease. they released quite a bit more steam before likewise liberated themselves within the depths of your holes , grunts and disorderly huffs blazing a trail behind as their own liquids seeped out of you and onto the covers you all laid atop.

❨ 𝕾. ❩ 𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐓 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒⠀⠀ꪆ◌` ♰⠀⠀mature discretion advised. all rights reserved. do not steal or plagiarize my works.