your bfs, tojikuna, can't help but argue over you sometimes.
~tags: sukuna x black reader, x toji, smut, they fight a lil over you, some bxb at the end, masturbation, 'baby', 'beautiful,' princess.'
your boyfriend, sukuna, is a very important man at his job. everyone's always asking him this, wanting his opinions on that, and sometimes it just drives him crazy.
due to his rough day at work, kuna decided to get off early. he couldn't wait to come home to his pretty girl.
which led you two here, standing in front of the mirror in the shared bedroom. your back pressed against his broad, tattooed chest. you look in the mirror and see how small you are compared to him. he's pumping his thick cock inside you nonstop, there's already any time between his mean thrusts. sukuna has to keep pulling you up by your waist every time your legs start to give out. seeing how dumb his cock makes you look, turns him on even more.
which is why he loves doing it in front of the mirror, so you're forced to look at how pretty and fucked out you look.
"oh my godd kuna, you feel soo good!"
"fuck baby, i missed you so so much today," he whispers in your ear, then kisses it. "couldn't stop thinking about you, beautiful. good thing toji isn't here, so i can have you allll to myself."
his words do something to you, making you clench around him.
"h-holy shit, you like when i say shit like that princess?" he pants, "you're squeezing me so fucking hard baby."
you close your eyes due to the blissful amount of pleasure.
suddenly, you feel a pair of lips peck your cheek, lips you know arenāt sukunaās.
you open your eyes to see toji, your other boyfriend, right in front of you. his eyes soft, looking fondly at his pretty girl being so strong.
āh-hi ājijiii,ā you slowly slur out, eyes fluttering.
āhi princess,ā he smiles at you āis kuna being mean to you baby?ā he asks playfully, and sukuna chuckles, his voice deep.
āmhmm,ā you nod, biting your lip.
"yeah he is being an ass huh baby? you two are having fun, and he didn't even bother telling me he was getting off work early?" toji looks sternly at the older man, his head tilted to the side.
sukuna mockingly laughs at toji, not taking him seriously in the moment.
"aww what's wrong 'jiji? just wanted to spend time with my girl...you mad that she likes this dick better than yours? that i eat her pussy better than you do?" he teases with a grin. sukuna loves getting his boyfriend all riled up like this. it turns him on cause he thinks toji's too cute.
"guys please!" you whine, and next thing you know toji pushes the older man off of you.
in a swift movement, he lays you on the edge of the bed, kneels down in front of you, and abruptly slams his tongue inside of you. toji pulls his tongue out, slides it up and down your folds, and starts sucking your clit.
looking at the beautiful sight in front of him, sukuna starts stroking himself. then he walks over to you two and pulls toji off of you by the hair. his mouth and chin covered in your juices. the dark haired man looks up at his boyfriend with glassy eyes, and sukuna can't get enough.
"open up pretty boy," sukuna orders him, and he does exactly that. toji stares him dead in the eye and opens his mouth with his tongue sticking out.
sukuna finishes right in his mouth, the warm fluid piles on his tongue. kuna then whacks his tip several times on toji's tongue, making them both moan beautifully.
leaving you laying there messy and exhausted, sukuna motions for toji to get on the bed.
sukuna loves fingering you until you squirt into tojiās mouth!
~tags: tojikuna x reader/black reader, smut, squirting, fun poly stuff, toji and kuna are bi, blb, mxm, 'baby, mama.'
your boyfriend, sukuna, sits next to you on the couch. his fingers quickly pumping inside of you. while his other hand strokes his perfect dick, precum leaking from his tip. his slender tattooed fingers switch between curling up to massage your g-spot to pulling out to play with your clit.
āhow you feelin, baby? you okay?ā he asks before kissing your forehead.
all you can do is nod your head and moan out a tiny āmhm.ā
your other boyfriend, toji, is kneeling on the floor between your legs, leaving kisses all over your inner thighs.
"g-guys i think i'm gonna..."
āyou gonna give it to āji right? let him have a taste?ā
āy-yes. oh my god fuck!ā
feeling your orgasm coming, you grab sukuna's arm and bury your head in his neck. the embarrassment already building up.
ādonāt be shy mama,ā toji coos at you. āyou know we love this shit.ā
then, he and kuna both start laughing. the embarrassment and humiliation you feel just get stronger.
itās not long before you start squirting and your legs shake. tojiās tongue sticks out like a puppy, letting your squirt inside his mouth. he brings himself closer to make sure he doesnāt miss a single drop. after you finish giving toji everything you have, sukuna bends down to give your puffy clit a couple of kisses and then a light slap.
toji, having yet swallowed, grabs sukuna's chin and carefully shares some of your squirt with him. you watch how it falls from tojiās mouth and into sukuna's.
after they both swallow, your boyfriends start an intense make-out session. all you hear is the wet, lewd sounds of your two favorite men kissing.
dark!valarr demanding dunk's wife for a night of pleasure, having the knight watch as he fucks his beloved as many times as the prince wishes.
dunk took his father from him, took everything from him. it is only fair that valarr gets retribution.
you're so sweet and beautiful. how did ser duncan get his hands on you, valarr ponders as he makes you bounce on his cock, ordering you to maintain eye contact with your dear husband while you milk the prince for all he's worth.
.ā¦ Żļ½„Ė ā.šššššš Żļ½„ā§Ė. would stay inside his pretty wife, forever if he could. šš + šššš ź°Fem!reader ā®ā® Trueform!Sukuna ā®ā® p in v ā®ā® c-pied ā®ā® belly bulge ā®ā® intimate sex ā®ā® kissingź±
Sukunaās chamber was dim, lit only by the faint glow of a single oil lamp that burned low on the far table. The faint glow of flickering flames danced across the wide futon. You're laying on your back in the center of the silk sheets, thighs spread wide around Sukunaās powerful hips.
The weight of him presses you deep into the bedding, four massive arms caging you in, four crimson eyes stay locked on your face with an intensity that steals your breath with every passing moment.
One of his massive cocks fills your cunt, stretching you open so completely that every tiny shift of his body sends jolts of overwhelming fullness through you. He's been inside you for so long that you've lost all sense of time.
It feels like hours his cock has been keeping you full, letting you feel every inch of him. The burn in your muscles deepening with every breath. Your legs tremble from holding the position you're in.
Sweat cools on your skin. Tiny droplets tracing paths down your sides. Yet the heat radiating from Sukuna wraps around you like a living flame, keeping you warm, while his first cock rests heavy and thick against your tummy. Its warmth seeping into your skin where the fat head is nestled perfectly in the soft dip of your navel. Thick, sticky precum dribbles steadily from the slit, filling that little hollow and spills over where the taut skin beneath your belly grows warmer from inside out. The sensation makes your breath hitch.
You can feel the way your own pussy drips around his second cock, sweet juices soaking his girth and the sheets below with every flutter of your walls. Sukuna felt every little pulse, every flutter of your walls around his massive length. Your cunt's molded itself to him now, gripping him tightly and welcomes him deeper with each subtle shift as you clench helplessly around his massive length, pulsing and squeezing as if trying to pull him in even deeper.
Your fingers are fisted tight in the silk sheets, knuckles white, the fabric's scrunched up in your palms so hard that if you let go, the imprints of your grip would remain. Every muscle in your body felt deliciously sore already. The kind of ache you knew would linger tomorrow and remind you exactly who had claimed you so thoroughly.
Sukuna moves with aching gentleness. He fucked his cock into you slowly. Just a little more with each rock of his hips, pushing a little deeper, then easing back only to press forward again. Every thrust paired with a tender-rough kiss to your neck. He's sucked purple kisses into your skin, marked you as his, over and over again, he canāt help himself.
This was one of those long nights, where he had you right where he wanted you. His version of making love to his sweet wife involved this slow worship. He kissed your beautiful skin. He felt your warmth and revelled in the pace of your heartbeat under his palm. The way your blood circulated throughout your body hypnotized him. It captivated him completely alongside the tight constricting heat of your cunt around his cock.
Wet squelches were significantly audible now, sopping wetness that flowed out thickly from your cunt, made them most prominent in the quiet room. He loved those lewd noises. He loved the scent of you even more. The warm salt of your skin. The sweetness of your hair and the sweet, heady aroma of your arousal that hung thick in the air around you both. His eyes traced every detail of you.
The heat across your cheeks. The way your lips trembled. The subtle sheen of sweat making your breasts glisten. He noticed how your nipples peaked in the cool air, noticed the rapid rise and fall of your chest. The soft thrumming of your heartbeat under his fingertips calmed him. Love made him drink in all of it. You were his. Utterly and perfectly his.
By now, you started to whine as the pressure built unbearably.
ās'too much...haaah...Sukuna-ā The words left your lips high pitched and dazed. Voice coming out soft and breaking on little incoherent babbles when another slow thrust nudged his thick cockhead against that deep, sensitive gummy-soft spot inside you.
Sukuna shushed you gently, lips brushing your ear. āShh, little wife. I know. I know it stretches you so full. But you are taking me so well. Just a little more. Let me feel you.ā
His crimson eyes drank in every detail of your face, the way your lashes fluttered, the way your lips parted on little gasps as he rocked into you more intentionally but tenderly. He knew he was big. Everything about him was. He always tried so hard not to overwhelm you. Yet the stretch of his huge cock already did that. Your body always tried its hardest to take him. It fluttered and clenched around him. You wanted to cum.
The need to is excruciating but his resilience held him back from fucking you roughly. He wanted to savor you first and only then he'd make sure to fill you full with his cum, and leak him for days. Pump load after load into you and watch your lower tummy swell with him. It was always so much. It always had been and always will be.
Right now, he savoured you. You kept taking him deeper and deeper, then his gaze left your face. He looked down at your body, eyes focused on your breasts. The slight movement of them every time you heaved for air entranced him.
The way Sukuna took his time was excruciating. One of his lower hands trailed from your shoulder down your sweat-slicked skin, cupping the soft weight of your breast. He stroked it tenderly, thumb brushing over the nipple before pinching it lightly and tugging the stiff bud. It grew firmer instantly under his touch, so sensitive and soft.
You arched with a quiet cry, and Sukuna groaned low in his throat as he leaned forward to capture your nipple between his lips, mouth closing around it tenderly as he sucked gently at first, with slow devotion. Then harder, tongue swirling and teasing around the taut bud while his hips continued those shallow, devastating thrusts.
Pleasure coiled tighter inside you. Slowly, his hands moved down, two big palms finding purchase on your soft curves. His eyes followed the expanse of your body as he gripped your waist lightly, both thumbs pressing on the swell there, his first cock still resting on your lower tummy, smearing thick, warm precum on your skin.
He massaged the sticky mess, thumbs rubbing slow circles on your bloated lower tummy. Feeling his other cock under your skin, shift as he moved and began fucking into you deeper with purpose, now that he had a proper hold on you. Pulling you down on his cock to meet his thrusts.
You cried out. It felt so good, yet it was too much. The fat tip of his cock meeting the puckered tight entrance of your cervix, bullying it sweetly. More and more, it yielded gradually. You felt him so deep. So impossibly deep. Body trying so hard to take him. Your walls fluttered and clenched, milking his thick cock with every movement. The pressure built inside you, excruciatingly perfect, until it finally broke.
The intensity crashed over you. You came hard, body shaking as your pussy milked his cock with powerful spasms. Sweet juices gushing around him. Sukuna's control finally snapped. He held you tighter, four arms wrapping around your trembling body as he fucked into you with desperate, deep strokes claiming you completely.
His second cock rubbed hot and heavy against your tummy, smearing more precum across your skin. With a guttural growl he buried himself to the hilt and came. Heavy pulses of thick cum flooded the narrow channel of your cunt. So much of it. Your lower belly swelled visibly with the warmth of him. You felt every spurt, every throb, walls milked him greedily, drawing out every drop as he emptied himself inside you.
He stayed buried deep, arms cradling you close while the last tremors ran through both of you. His forehead pressed to yours. Crimson eyes soft in the dim light as he looks at you with something close to wonder.
āMy perfect wife,ā he murmured, voice rough and low. One hand stroked your swollen tummy, he pressed gently feeling the evidence of his release there. āSo full of me. So good for me, always.ā
You whimpered softly. Your cunt still fluttering around his cock. Yet you smiled up at him, arms wrapping around his neck. Sukuna kissed you slow and sweet, savouring the taste of your lips. The warmth of your breath. The way your body yielded so completely to his. He noticed the way your lashes brushed your cheeks when your eyes closed. He noticed the faint tremor in your thighs still wrapped around him. Noticed how your pulse slowed under his palm. Every detail etched itself into him. His wife. His light in the endless darkness.
He would stay like this for a while longer, still warm against and inside you, savouring every pulse, every shared breath, every quiet moment where the King of Curses could simply hold his beloved wife and feel utterly at peace. Outside, the night continued on. Inside, wrapped in each other, time held no meaning. Only love and the burn of pleasure remained.
You are absolutely destroyed. Pretty whines spill from your parted lips, your body is limp, face mashed deep into the silk pillows. Your body feels like jelly, the only thing keeping you up is his hands on your hips. Youāre mindlessly babbling, tears collecting at the corners of your eyes. āFucking look at youā¦ā
He's been fucking you relentlesslyāthrusts so deep and powerful they shake the entire mattress. He fucked you in every position possible, and he was still going at it. You lost track of your orgasms and the time. Youāre not sure what has gotten into him today, but he came back home in a mood.
Another heavy spank, this time harder. Your small body jumps forward with the force, pussy gripping his length like a vice. He wraps a large hand around your throat, pulling you back onto his cock.
āPleaseā¦ā
His pace doesn't slow. If anything, your small pleas only make him fuck harder. He's a brutal force of nature behind you, taking what he wants without mercy. His balls slap against your clit with every thrust. He pulls your hair, arching your back more. He kisses your shoulder, then your neck.
His teeth scrape sharp against the sensitive skin of your neck. Heās grinding deep, rotating his hips in a way that makes you see stars. Your small body is nothing but a ragdoll in his grip. His hand leaves your hair to grip your hip, bruisingly tight, and you fall back against the bed. āTake it.ā
The movement of your head is sluggish as you shake it, brain rattled from the relentless pounding. He knows you're right on the edge of overwhelmed but he can't stopāyour pussy feels too good gripping his massive cock. Your words are basically incoherent, all he can make out is his name and pathetic pleas.
Ths sound of his heated skin meeting yours is lewd, it makes your ears burn. your toes are already curling as he groans over you, feeling your soft cunt trying to milk him dry without even meaning to. āyeah, I got you all stupid now, huh?ā He laughs.
You nod mindlessly, feeling your nth orgasm approach.
Itās sundress no panties weather in the FireNation
You love springtime because that means long walks, gardening, foraging and your favoriteā¦ teasing Zuko with no panties under your sundress.
The first truly warm day after a long, gray winter hit the Fire Nation countryside like a blessing from Agni himself. Golden sunlight poured over the rolling hills surrounding your private estate.
Zuko was already in the garden when you found him, sleeves rolled up, sweat glistening on the scarred side of his face as he helped turn soil for the new herb beds youād insisted on planting. His dark hair was tied back, a few strands sticking to his neck from the heat.
You stepped out onto the stone path wearing a light, breezy sundress the color of ripe peaches that flowed just below your ass. No bra and definitely no panties.
āNeed some help, my lord?ā you called sweetly, putting an extra pep in your step making your tits almost bounce out the dress.
Zuko straightened, wiping his forehead with the back of his wrist. His golden eyes flicked to you, softening instantly at the sight of you in the sunlight. āYou shouldnāt be out here in this heat without a hat,ā he grumbled, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward. āYouāll burn.ā
āI like the heat,ā you replied, stepping closer until you were just within armās reach. You bent slightly to examine the soil heād turned, letting the hem of your dress ride up the backs of your thighs. The breeze kissed your exposed pussy, as you stretched even farther exposing the soft curve of your ass with the bare, already slick folds between your thighs catching his attention as you continued, āBesidesā¦ I thought you might want company.ā
Before you could straighten up, Zukoās hands were on you. His calloused palms landed firmly on your bare ass, āNo panties,ā he muttered, āYou really walked out here like this, knowing exactly what it would do to me.ā
āMmm. Guilty.ā You arched back into him, āItās warm. I wanted to feel the breezeā¦ and you.ā
One hand stayed gripping your right cheek while the other slid lower. Without warning, two thick fingers dragged through your slick folds from behind, parting them and immediately pushing the tip of his middle finger into your dripping cunt. āOh!ā you yelped in surprise, eyes widening.
āShouldāve known youād pull this the first warm day,ā he groaned, his fingers playing with your slick. You couldnāt help pushing back against his hand, your hips rolling instinctively as his finger sank deeper. He pumped it slowly at first, then faster, the wet sounds of your arousal barely masked by the breeze rustling the leaves. His thumb brushed teasingly over your clit as a needy whine slipped from your lips as you rocked back onto his finger.
The sundress had ridden up completely now, bunched around your waist, leaving your ass and pussy fully exposed to the open garden air while Zuko played with you. Then, just as suddenly as heād started, he pulled his finger free. You stood up straight with a frustrated whimper, turning to face him. āHeyāwhyād you stop?ā
Zuko brought his glistening finger to his mouth, locking eyes with you as he sucked it clean. He smirked, āWeāre outside, princess. You really want the groundskeepers to see us like that?ā
You scoffed, rolling your eyes even as your cheeks burned and your thighs pressed together, trying to ease the ache heād left behind. āAs if the servants and everyone else at the palace arenāt already gossiping about our sex life. Half of them probably place bets on how loud Iāll be each night.ā
His hand slipped back under your dress, palming your ass again, āIf youāre that impatientā¦ we can go inside. Or I can bend you over right here and make sure you stay quiet. Whatever you want, my princess.ā
You bit your lip, āRight here,ā you whispered, āBend me over. I donāt want to wait.ā
Your ass lifted naturally, fully exposed as he shoved the peach-colored dress up to bunch around your waist. He kicked your feet wider apart with his boot, one hand staying heavy on the small of your back to keep you pinned as you heard the rustle of fabric as he shoved his loose garden pants down just enough to free his cock.
āQuiet,ā he reminded you, even as the head of his cock nudged insistently against your soaked pussy. āOr Iāll have to cover that pretty mouth.ā
You barely had time to nod before he thrusted in, cock slipping through your wet slick. Zukoās hand immediately clamped over your mouth, his scarred cheek brushing yours as he leaned over you. āI said quiet,ā he hissed, though you could hear the smirk in his tone.
You whimpered against his palm, pushing back to meet him, desperate for more. His hips snapped forward again, setting a ruthless pace that had the wooden garden bed creaking beneath you.
The angle was perfectāhis thick cock fucking strokes that rocked you forward with every thrust, your bare breasts bouncing beneath the thin dress, nipples dragging against the fabric. āHnnghāahāh-harder, Zuko, p-please,ā you whimpered, pushing back to meet every powerful stroke. āFill me, Zukoā¦ pleaseāā
He angled his hips just right, grinding deep on every thrust until your legs started to shake. āIs my princess gonna come for me?ā
Princess, fuck that made you cum everytime. You moaned loudly, your pussy clenching rhythmically around his cock as he groaned, āSo tight,ā He buried himself as deep as he could go and came inside you. āYou know how much I look forward to this every time spring comes around? I love you so much, my empress.ā He expressed his love as hot, thick pulses of cum filled your cunt until it started to leak out around his shaft with every shallow thrust.
He stayed pressed against you for a long moment, both of you panting under the bright spring sun. Before he tugged the sundress back down over your hips, though the fabric was now wrinkled and slightly damp. Turning you in his arms, he cupped your flushed face and kissed you.
Oh you couldnāt wait for the rest of the season.
a/n: no bc seriously its sundress no panties weather FINALLYYYYYY
passionate desires
ā”ā” 40s older!luffy x younger!afab!reader (late twenties/early thirties)
summary: Luffy, in his older age, loves eye contact; he loves connection. Itās half the reason heās gotten so far, because of the bonds heās built. And thereās nothing better as he stares deep into your eyes, looking at you as if you hold all the answers heās searching for. As if everything thatās led to this life was worth it because heās here with you in this moment.
content: older man x younger woman, cunninlingus, multiple orgasms, missionary sex, creampies, passionate sex, sensual sex,
wc: 1.9k
18+ MDNI | 18+ MDNI | 18+ MDNI | 18+ MDNI | 18+ MDNI | 18+ MDNI
happy fatherās day to this trio of soon to be dads!
in the same verse as: original ā¢ older!sanji ā¢ older!zoro ā¢ older!monster trio (coming soon)
buy me a coffee | dc masterlist | anime masterlist
Luffy guides your hands to your thighs, urging you to lift them as he presses his face between your legs, his tongue exploring you with deep, deliberate strokes. He works you open, licking every sensitive inch with a hunger that leaves your legs trembling and your moans spilling uncontrollably. When he finally pulls away, the wet, obscene sound of it makes you gasp, your body already aching for more.
āYou ready, pretty girl?ā Luffy asks you, while he doesnāt look away from your face as he hooks your right leg over his shoulder and presses your left thigh flat to the mattress with his palm, keeping you splayed open.
He lines himself up and pushes in slowlyājust the head first, watching your mouth fall openāthen another inch, then another, the stretch building until your toes curl and your back arches off the sheets. You both groan, low and ragged, his jaw going tight with the effort of holding still while your body adjusts around him.
He leans down, chest pressing your knee toward your shoulder, and kisses you, slow and deep, his tongue sliding against yours while you feel every inch of him seated inside you. He smirks against your lips when you whimper, your hands scrambling at his back. āNot even using my powers yet,ā he murmurs, and you clench involuntarily at the words, drawing a sharp hiss from him.
When your hips tilt upāa silent, helpless pleaāhe pulls back and drives forward, setting a pace thatās relentless. Each thrust bottoms out hard, his pelvis rolling down to grind against your clit on the way in, the pressure sharp and overwhelming.
You can hear it; the slick, rhythmic sound of him moving inside you, the creak of the mattress, your own voice coming out wrecked and unsteady. His left hand slides up your ribs to your breast, fingers rolling your nipple between them, and when you reach down to rub your clit he watches, adjusting the angle of his hips until you gasp and your legs snap tighter around him.
The stimulation makes you clench hard around him, your walls gripping with every stroke, and he drops onto his forearms with a groan, his chest pressing flush against yours. His mouth finds your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses that drag up to your jaw, tongue tracing the shell of your ear, his breath comes ragged and hot against your skin.
āOh fuck,ā he grits out, his hips stuttering just slightly before he forces them back to rhythm. āIām gonna cum in this pussy. Fuckāitās so tight, you keep sucking me in.ā
You moan and let your head fall back, but his fingers find your nipple and pinch, sharp enough to make you gasp and your eyes snap back to his. āEyes on me,ā he says, voice rough.
āYesāā you breathe, holding his gaze even as your vision blurs at the edges. āCum inside, pleaseāI want to feel you.ā
He groans, low in his chest, his forehead dropping briefly to yours. āWant me to fill you up?ā His hips roll deep, grinding in a slow circle before pulling back and snapping forward again. āKeep my cum deep inside you?ā His free hand presses flat against your lower stomach, just below your navel, and you can feel the faint pressure of him moving inside you, impossibly intimate.
āYesāpleaseāā Your fingers work faster against your clit, chasing the tension coiling tight at the base of your spine. āI want to feel you, want to be closerāā
He pulls out suddenly and you whine at the loss, but heās already moving, shifting you onto your back fully, spreading your thighs with his hands, and sliding back in from above. The new angle is deeper, his weight settling between your legs, chest to chest, and he buries himself to the hilt with a slow, grinding push that makes you both go still for a moment.
āFuck,ā he breathes, āI love you.ā He starts moving again, slower now but no less deep, each thrust rolling his hips to drag against the spot inside you that makes your vision white out at the edges. āSo perfect for me. Taking me like you were made for it.ā
His hand presses harder against your lower stomach, and you can feel yourself clenching around him, feel the pressure of his palm on the outside matching every thrust. āGonna fill you up. Give you everything. Youāll take it, right?ā
āYesāyes, pleaseāā Your fingers are frantic on your clit, your heels digging into the backs of his thighs to pull him deeper. The wet sounds of your bodies together have grown loud and filthy, your moans tumbling over each other, his breath harsh and broken against your cheek. He stares down at youāeyes dark and completely focused, like youāre the only thing in the worldāand you hold his gaze even as your body starts to unravel.
āPlease make me cum,ā you beg, voice cracking. āPleaseācum in meāā
His hips lose their rhythm, thrusts turning short and grinding, his whole body shuddering as he spills inside you. The sudden wet heat pushes you over the edge. You clench around him in waves, moaning his name, your back arching until only your shoulders stay on the mattress. He groans through it, riding the pulses of your orgasm, his hips working through every last tremor until youāre both gasping.
He pulls out slowly, and then stops, his gaze dropping between your legs eagerly watching. You feel the slick warmth starting to leak out and he catches it on the head of his cock, dragging it through your folds before pressing forward again, sinking just barely inside to push it back.
āThere you go,ā he hisses, the sound tight and pleased, his hips giving one last shallow roll before he pulls free and lifts your hips in his hands.
āYouāre perfect,ā he murmurs, and leans down to kiss you; deep and slow, his tongue pressing against yours, his hands cradling your face like something precious. The rest of the world goes quiet. Thereās only the warmth of his mouth, the weight of his body, and the soft sound of both of you catching your breath.
When he pulls back, his eyes are heavy-lidded but still wild. āYou did so good. You deserve to cum again, wanna?ā His hand drifts down and two fingers press flat against your clit, circling in slow, deliberate strokes that make your hips twitch up off the mattress.
You nod, pulling him back into a kiss. His mouth works against yours while his fingers keep movingāsteady, unhurried, reading every small sound you make against his lips. He breaks away after a moment, lifting his hand to his mouth, eyes locked on yours as he drags his fingers across his tongue. Then he reaches back down, and the slick glide of his touch is filthier now, louder, the wet sounds obscene in the quiet room.
āCum for me,ā he says, voice rough and low, his fingers pressing harder on the upstroke. āYou deserve it.ā He watches your faceāevery flicker, every catch of breathāand adjusts until your thighs are trembling. āThatās it. There it is.ā His free hand splays across your stomach to hold you still when you try to squirm away from the intensity of it. āMy good girl.ā
Your head drops back, the orgasm rolls through you in long, shuddering waves, your thighs locking around his wrist, your voice breaking on his name. He works you through every pulse, fingers slowing but not stopping, until you go boneless against the sheets.
Luffy gathers you up against his chest, one arm looped around your back, his chin resting on the top of your head. You can feel his heartbeat under your ear; still elevated, but steadying. He presses a kiss to your forehead, then tips your chin up to meet your mouth, soft and unhurried.
When you lean further to deepen the kiss he chuckles, pulling away just enough as his hand curves around your throat, thumb tracing your pulse point. āBaby, whatās your color?ā
āGreen,ā you whisper into his jaw. You shift against him, feeling the press of him steadily growing hard against your thigh, and something tightens low in your belly all over again. āPlease, one more time? Youāve been gone so long Luā¦ just one more load?ā
Luffy groans, a low and helpless sound, and laughs against your skin. āFuck, whoās the lucky bastard here?ā He rolls onto his back and pulls you with him, hands settling on your hips as you push up to straddle him. You reach down to wrap your hand around his cock, still slick with both of you, and line him up. He watches your face as you sink down, jaw going slack when you take him all the way to the base in one slow, rolling drop of your hips.
āThis what you want?ā He thrusts up into you once, sharp and testing, grinning wide at the sound you make. āTell me.ā
āYesāā You brace your hands on his chest and lift, then drop back down, setting a grinding rhythm. āFill me again, pleaseāā
āIāll give it to you.ā His grip tightens on your hips, fingers pressing bruises into your skin. āYouāre so good to me, how could I say no?ā He pulls you down to meet his mouth, kissing your throat, teeth grazing your pulse point as his hips start driving up to meet yours.
You feel every inch of him on each stroke, the drag and push of it deep and relentless, and youāre already so sensitive from before that the pleasure borders on too much.
āPlease, Luffāfill me, push it back in,ā you breathe against his ear, and you feel him shudder underneath youāa full-body tremor, steam curling at the edges of his skin for half a second before he reins it back in. Something shifts in his grip, his hands yank you down harder, forcing you to take the full length of him, hips snapping up in short, punishing thrusts that knock the breath out of you with every one.
āAgain and again?ā His voice is wrecked, barely more than a rasp against your throat. āThatās how you want it?ā
āYes!ā You canāt manage more than that. Your fingers curl into his shoulders, nails biting in, and you hold on while he drives into you until the headboard knocks against the wall and your vision dissolves at the edges. When you come this time itās deep and grinding, your whole body clenching around him, and he follows you over with a low groan, hips stuttering through the last few thrusts as he spills inside you again, the wet heat of it pulling a helpless whimper out of you.
For a long moment neither of you moves. Then he wraps both arms around you and pulls you down against his chest, pressing his lips into your hair, your temple, the corner of your jaw. āOh my god,ā you breathe, fingers tracing lazy patterns down the curve of his spine. āI love you.ā
āI love you,ā he says back, like itās the easiest thing in the world.
You feel him still hard inside you and roll your hips experimentally. His breath catches.
āPlease, Luff? One moreāā
He sighs, amused. āI donāt knowā¦ā
You shift, rolling onto your back and lifting your legs into reverse cowgirl. Luffy laughs, eyes bright with mischief as he thrusts up, his cock dragging against your clit. āCome on, Iām an old man,ā he protests, voice teasing, though he tilts his head down to look at the view, his hand pulling one ass cheek for a better view.
You burst out laughing. āAn old man?!ā
āYeah,ā he says, suddenly bashful. āI do missionary, doggy, a spoonā¦ Iām old now.ā
You lean up to kiss him. āAn old man couldnāt fuck like that.ā
a/n: and here's older!luffy. i think there's just something sweet about older luffy who feels a bit more at peace with everything he's accomplished, sure of who he is and his place in the world as it is. he's had his time to mess around, experience life and different versions of sex. and he likes to fuck rough, also to dominate and lead the pace. he's not afraid to let others lead either, but at his core, luffy is about his connections and bonds so i hope that shows through
up next? older! monster trio x younger!afab!reader, featuring their breeding kink! here's a very brief overview!
they're finally reached the island where you're at. you like the feeling of a village, a community, and so they indulge and willingly make the trip to visit you whenever they can.
they've just finished docking and are walking up one of the paths towards the village when the sound of children's laughter draws their attention. they turn to look and see you there, surrounded by young children all swarming around your legs, trying to grab your attention.
your laugh echoes through the field, ringing through their ears, making a smile pull on their lips just by hearing it. you always did have that effect on them, bringing a sort of calm and peace that they thought they would never feel again unless they were all united and on the open ocean again.
and it sort of hits them all once, the option that they never quite considered until seeing you here, happy, smiling, and with wind in your hair as you play with the children.
"Zoro, Sanji?" he asks, never taking his eyes off of you. He adjusts his hat just so he can get a better view of you.
"Captain, I believe we're thinking the same thing." As the pirate king's wings are lost in their own thoughts of what a pregnant you would look like for their future.
as always, likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!
buy me a coffee | dc masterlist | anime masterlist
summary: the gaang admit they want you and decide to show you exactly how much.
warnings: sub!reader, fem!reader, orgy dynamics, multiple partners, oral sex, handjobs, throat fucking implied, oral receiving, praise kink, teasing, edging, orgasm denial, temperature play, ice play, sensory overload, rough kissing, gagging, degradation themes, punishment but no reward, consensual dominance, breast play, nipple stimulation, clit stimulation, messy kissing, cum play, sexual tension, power dynamics, smut, MDNI;
wc: 2,5k
a/n: katara being both a top and the mastermind behind this was inevitable actually. thank you to my š anon for suggesting this.
It started as a joke.
As a funny question about who was having crushes on who.
One thing led to another, and they all somehow told you it was you.
That was when silence fell over the entire room.
During your time together with the gaang, there had been awkward moments and silence before, yet nothing too out of the ordinary. But this one? It was different. More suffocating. Moreā¦ intimate. You could feel the gazes on you now, watching you with focus and unreadable expressions.
Your heartbeat started increasing, your palms turning sweaty as your mind scrambled for something to say. You didnāt know what to do or where to go from this.
Of course, the attraction was both ways.
From the moment you met them and started spending time together, you felt it growing stronger with every passing day. But you never dared to say or do anything about it, too scared it would ruin the vibe between all of you.
The close relationships you had built with each of them mattered too much. You couldnāt throw everything away.
āWe didnāt want you to feel weirded out, you know?ā Katara finally broke the silence as she scooted closer, until her chest pressed against your arm.
āOh, no, I would neverāā
Your breath caught in your throat the moment her hand landed on your thigh.
āIs that okay?ā Katara asked softly, fingers resting there carefully.
You could barely answer her.
You nodded quietly instead.
āI want to hear you talk,ā she pushed gently, her hand slowly sliding higher up your thigh.
āItās okay,ā you breathed out shakily.
āYouāre blushing like crazy,ā Sokka snickered as he leaned back on his palms, eyes never leaving your form.
You threw him a glare, but the second your eyes locked with his, you couldnāt hold it for long.
Yeah.
For the first time, you actually felt intimidated by Sokka.
āAre you too hot right now?ā Katara spoke again, making you look back at her. āYouāre burning up,ā she continued while your breathing turned more uneven with every second. āShould I help you?ā
She offered it so casually, like she wasnāt making your entire body heat up with just a few touches.
You wouldāve liked not to answer so fast. But you did.
She barely even managed to finish speaking before a nervous āyesā left your lips.
Toph and Sokka immediately giggled while Zuko and Aang sent you sympathetic looks, though neither of them looked much calmer themselves.
āCome here, then. Lay your back against my chest,ā Katara instructed gently, though there was still firmness hidden beneath her soft tone.
You nodded quickly and shifted towards her, settling between her legs until your back rested against her chest comfortably.
āTell me if itās too much, alright?ā she whispered near your ear.
Then you felt her hands slide downwards until they rested over your breasts beneath the dark green robe you were wearing.
Your breath hitched.
Katara hooked her fingers into the fabric and slowly dragged the material aside, exposing your bare breasts to the entire room. Cool air brushed against your skin immediately, making your nipples harden from the sudden loss of warmth.
Sokka whistled at the sight before Zuko nudged him hard in the side.
Aang stayed quiet, but his eyes were completely focused on your chest now.
āNothing underneath?ā Katara questioned with a knowing smile tugging at her lips.
āIā you all appeared out of nowhereā I didnāt have timeāā you tried to explain quickly.
āSheās lying,ā Toph interrupted with a grin.
Your face burned hotter as you looked down at your lap.
Katara raised a brow at you expectantly.
You took a deep breath as you closed your eyes, avoiding their eyes.
āI wore nothing on purpose,ā you finally admitted on a quiet tone.
A moan instantly slipped from your lips when Kataraās hands squeezed your breasts, kneading the soft skin slowly.
āOh,ā she whispered against your ear. āThen maybe weāll have to punish you for lying and for the other times you did things on purpose.ā
Her fingers squeezed your nipples harder.
Then suddenly, you felt something freezing against your skin.
You jolted.
Looking down, you realized the tips of Kataraās fingers had turned icy cold, frost slowly forming against your heated skin. The sharp contrast made your entire body squirm in her lap.
She kept rubbing your nipples between her fingers, making shaky cries leave your throat from both the sting and pleasure of it.
āMhmā ah!ā
Your head fell back against her shoulder.
āNeed some warmth?ā she teased softly.
Before you could answer, you heard heavy footsteps approaching.
You lifted your head slightly and saw Zuko walking towards you before lowering himself onto his knees between your legs.
His large hands rested carefully against your knees first before slowly sliding upwards over your skin.
āThat okay?ā he asked quietly, eyes fixed on yours while waiting patiently for your answer.
You nodded automatically.
Katara immediately pressed colder fingers against your nipple in punishment for your non-verbal reply, making you jolt with a whimper.
āYes! Yes, itās okayā Iām sorry,ā you gasped out quickly.
Zukoās lips curled into a small teasing smirk before he slowly pushed aisde the material of your robes, completely revealing your legs along with your undergarments.
Then his palm slowly went between youe legs, pressing directly against your clothed core.
Your hips jerked forward instinctively at the warmth of his hand against your sensitive heat.
Kataraās lips brushed against your ear at the same time, making another shiver run through your body.
You had Kataraās cold hands on your breasts and Zukoās warmth pressing down on you through the material, the contrast making your head spin.
You were so lost in the moment that you didnāt even notice Aang and Sokka stepping closer until they settled beside you on either side.
āGonna help us out a little too, right?ā Sokka asked with a grin.
āIf you want to, of course,ā Aang added with a soft voice, offering a nervous smile.
How could you even refuse them?
āIād loveāmhmā love to,ā you say, a lot breathier than intended.
Sokkaās grin widened after hearing your reply. He then took your hand that rested on Kataraās leg, while Aang carefully lifted your other hand, fumbling slightly with his trousers.
Normally, you probably wouldāve giggled at how awkward he looked for a second. But Zuko and Katara already had you dizzy from the overwhelming contrast of hot and cold sensations moving through your body.
You let both boys guide your hands where they wanted them, your eyes slightly widening when you saw them pulling out their half-hardened cocks.
Sokka was bigger than you expected, not overly thick but long enough to make your throat tighten. Aang was thicker, with more prominent veins running along his length, making you wonder how would it feel inside you.
Both of them were already leaking precum, feeling their wettnes the moment your fingers wrapped around them. Quiet hisses and groans filled the room as you started moving your hands slowly, thumbs spreading the slick fluid over their tips before stroking up and down carefully.
Sokkaās hand quickly caught your wrist, encouraging you to pump him faster, while Aang seemed to enjoy slower movements more.
So you tried your best to give both of them what they wanted.
But it was hard to stay focused.
Katara was still kneading your breasts like they belonged to her, earning soft whimpers from you every few seconds before icy jolts shot through your body whenever her cold fingertips brushed over your sensitive nipples too harshly.
At the same time, Zukoās palm kept rubbing over your clothed core, thumb brushing your clit, pressing down and spreading his warmth all over, making your hips twitch forward helplessly.
When he finally stopped moving and pulled his hand away, you almost whimpered at the loss. But then your gaze dropped towards Toph, who was crawling towards you with a grin spread across her face.
āWhatāā
āShh,ā Katara cooed softly into your ear, her warm breath brushing your skin and making your heart race even faster. āItās okay.ā
Toph reached you and immediately pushed your legs apart wider while Zukoās hand suddenly caught your chin, forcing your attention back onto him instead.
You blinked in confusion at first, only for your breath to catch when you realized he was freeing his cock too.
Slowly, carefully, he guided the tip against your parted lips.
āJust a little?ā he asked, voice low as the tip brushed against your lower lip.
āYes,ā you breathed out quickly before Katara could punish you again for staying quiet.
That was all Zuko needed.
He pushed into your mouth too fast at first, making you gag immediately as tears burned at your eyes. He muttered a quick apology under his breath before pulling back slightly to let you breathe. Then he moved again, slower this time, more careful. Though you could still tell he wanted to go faster.
Your watery gaze dropped towards Toph, who was already pulling the rest of your clothes away completely. The second she exposed your cunt, her fingertips slid through your folds curiously before she chuckled softly at how wet you already were.
Your hips instinctively moved towards her touch, the sudden movement making you gag around Zuko again.
Toph only grinned wider at the sounds.
She lowered herself between your legs completely before hooking them over her shoulders.
Then her mouth was on you.
The first slow lick along your folds made your entire body shake. A second later, she sucked harshly at your clit, earning louder muffled cries from your throat around Zukoās cock.
Katara kept whispering soft praises into your ear while stimulating your nipples relentlessly. They were probably swollen and red by now from how much attention she gave them, but the sting only turned you on more.
Your grip around Sokka and Aang loosened slightly as your focus completely shattered from all the sensations hitting you at once.
Zuko thrusting into your mouth.
Toph licking between your legs like she was starving.
Katara torturing your sensitive chest.
Sokka noticed immediately.
He firmly grabbed your wrist and guided your hand faster along his length, using your grip to help himself chase his release.
Aang stayed gentler instead.
He slowly rocked into your hand while one of his palms moved into your hair, carefully massaging your scalp and trying to comfort you despite how overwhelmed you already looked.
The room slowly filled with sounds.
Your muffled moans.
Sokkaās groans.
Aangās shaky breaths.
Zukoās rough grunts.
And the wet slurping noises coming from between your legs every time Toph sucked harder at your clit.
Meanwhile, Katara stayed steady behind you through all of it, paying attention to every reaction your body gave her. Every twitch. Every gasp.
Every tear gathering at your eyes whenever Zuko pushed too deep into your throat or Toph sucked your clit too harshly.
At one point, your eyes fluttered shut completely.
There were too many sensations at once. Too many hands touching you everywhere ā your breasts, your waist, your stomach, your thighs.
āIām close,ā Zuko suddenly grunted.
Your eyes opened halfway.
Steam curled faintly from his skin and through his nose, while veins stood out sharply along his neck as his thrusts became rougher and sloppier.
Then, with a sharp breath, he finally pulled out and spilled over his own palm instead.
You inhaled deeply the second your mouth was free, finally able to breathe properly againā
ābut the relief barely lasted two seconds.
Kataraās hand grabbed your chin firmly and turned your head towards her before she crashed her lips against yours.
The kiss instantly turned messy.
Teeth clashing. Lips biting.
Saliva slipping down your chin as she kissed you greedily, swallowing every shaky whimper that left your throat. At some point, her hand slid back down between your thighs, fingers pressing directly against your clit while Toph kept licking at your folds below.
Toph hummed against you, tightening her grip around your thighs.
You moaned louder, hips moving faster now until you were practically grinding your pussy against Tophās face.
Your toes curled hard and a hot feeling started tightening inside your stomach, growing stronger with every touch, every movement, every hand on your body.
Then suddenly, another hand tilted your chin upwards.
Aang.
He lowered himself closer before pulling you into another kiss immediately after Katara let you go. You thought he would be a bit more composed, but with the way his tongue pushed into your mouth desperatelyā¦ it was far from that.
Your hand still stroked him through the kiss, feeling him twitch harder and harder in your grip. He whimpered against your lips, both hands tangling into your hair as he pulled you closer.
The kiss quickly became sloppy and desperate. Then his whole body tensed suddenly.
You felt hot cum spill over your hand while his movements faltered completely. Small apologies left his lips between kisses, breathless and embarrassed.
You couldnāt help smiling faintly against his mouth.
But before the moment could last, another strong hand wrapped gently around your throat, pulling you away from Aang.
Then Sokka kissed you next.
He no longer needed help to finish as he did the work by himself since you were so lost in the moment.
Your jaw hurt and your lips were completely swollen because of the kissing. You were still trying to focus on reaching that feeling that felt so close.
You let out a moan as you let Sokkaās tongue leave your mouth, while your hips rose up to meet Toph faster. But before you can feel that sweet pressure finally snap, you heard Kataraās voice behindyou.
āStop,ā her voice came out strong and firm, making you shiver.
Tophās movements slow down as she leans back, while Sokkaās mouth leaves yours.
āButāā you try to complain.
āWhere would be the punishment if we let you get what you want?ā she smiled at you, but her eyes gave you another messageā¦ one that stirred something in you. Something heavy and dark andā¦ curious.
Youāve never thought youād enjoy feeling so many hands on you, so many mouths, so many bodiesā¦ but you did, and you wanted to see how far this will go.
Katara patted your leg to get up, and you tried, but you almost fell due to your wobbly legs, yet Aang moved faster and caught you in his strong arms.
āEasy,ā he whispered in your ear, making you look up at him, seeing how fond he was looking at you. He had that kind smile on his face.
Before you can even thank him, you heard Kataraās voice behind you, sending shivers down your spine.
18+ your older boyfriend tojis first time eating you out from the back...ā” (toji x chubby!reader)
you didnt expect it to feel like this.
your legs felt unsteady as you rose from the floor, the carpet rough against your knees before you were upright. toji didnt give you a moment to find your balance. his hands, rough and scarred, gripped your waist, spinning you around with a force that made your head spin, and suddenly you were facing the worn leather couch.
"bend over," he grunted, the command low against your back.
your heart hammered against your ribs, the rythm matching the throbbing between your thighs. you hesitated, clutching the hem of your t shirt, but toji didnt have patience for tou to hesitate.
he pressed a heavy hand between your shoulder blades, guiding you forward until your stomach hit the leather armrest. the couch dipped a little under your weight, the smell of old smoke and musk filling your nose.
"ass up," he ordered, kicking your feet apart with his boot.
you gasped, stumbling slightly but catching yourself on the cushion. the position left you completely exposed, the cool air in the hotel room brushing against your wet heat.
you felt vulnerable, your chubby thighs trembling as you tried to hold the pose. you shift nervously because you knew what you looked like from this angle, soft and overflowing, nothing like the hardened man standing behind you.
"look at that," toji muttered, his voice thick with appreciation. "all this soft ass."
his large palms cupped your cheeks, squeezing hard enough to make you gasp. he handled you like he owned you, his fingers digging into the generous flesh. you felt the rough callouses on his skin catching against your sensitive thighs, sending shivers racing up your spine.
"..please." you whimpered, not even sure what you were asking for.
toji just hushed you, kneeling behind you.
"gonna take care of this."
the first touch of his tongue against you was already too much. he flattened his tongue against your clit and licked a broad, wet stripe up to your dripping entrance. your knees nearly buckled at the sensation, a broken moan tearing from your throat.
you moaned, burying your face in the leather cushion to muffle the sound.
toji didnt like that, he grabbed a handful of your hair, pulling your head back sharply.
he dove back in, his face burying itself between your legs. this was a man starving, toji ate you out, his mouth hot and demanding. he sucked your folds into his mouth, his tongue probing inside you, tasting every inch of your arousal.
the noises were obscene, all wet, squelching sounds filled the room, echoing off the cheap wallpaper. toji was groaning into your flesh, low vibrations that traveled straight through your clit. he sounded like he was enjoying a meal, grunting and humming as he devoured you.
"tastes so fuckin' good," he mumbled, his words muffled against your mound. "sweet little pussy."
your mind was almost blank. his nose rubbed against your cheek as he tilted his head to suck on your clit, a sensation that made you gasp and clench around nothing. he didnt seem to mind. In fact, he seemed to love it, pressing his face deeper, smothering himself in your softness.
toji panted, coming up for air for a split second before diving back in. "drippin all over me, huh."
his hands held you open, his thumbs spreading your labia wide so he could fuck you with his tongue. hed not shaved in a bit, so you could feel the faint stubbme on his chin scratching your skin, a delicious friction that only heightened the intensity. he was relentless, lashing at your clit with rapid flicks of his tongue before sucking it hard into his mouth.
you were trembling uncontrollably now, your fingers gripping the chair until your knuckles turned white. the pressure was building, a tight coil in your stomach that just grew tighter with every pass of his tongue.
"too much...," you cried out, your voice breaking.
"aint too much," he rasped, his breath hot against your wet flesh.
he doubled down, his movements becoming more aggressive.
he was slurping loudly, unconcerned with how messy he was making it. spit and arousal dripped down your thighs, coating his face, and you could feel it running, sticky and warm.
"gonna make a mess of this pussy," he grunted, biting down gently on the inside of your thigh.
you cried out, your hips bucking back against his face instinctively. toji chuckled, the sound vibrating through you. he liked your neediness, he liked how desperate you were for his mouth.
"grind on it," he says. "use my face."
you were embarrassed, your face burning hot, but you couldnt deny him.
you moved your hips, rocking back against his tongue. the friction was incredible, his chin rough against your sensitive skin while his tongue fucked into you. you were riding his face, lost in the sheer filthiness of the act.
toji groaned loudly, encouraging you. "yeah. just like that. fuckin' suffocate me with it."
he reached up, one hand sliding around to grip your belly, pulling you back harder against his mouth. the possessiveness of the gesture made your head spin. the contrast between his hard, muscular body and your soft, plush figure was there, and it seemed to drive him wild.
your breath hitched, your toes curling in the carpet.
"...close," you managed to gasp out.
toji didnt slow down. If anything, he got nastier. he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked hard, his tongue fluttering rapidly against the bundle of nerves. at the same time, he slipped his thumb inside you, curling it upward to find that spot that made you see stars.
"come on," he growled, the vibrations against your clit pushing you to the brink. "give it to me. soak my face."
your body seized up, your back arching as the orgasm ripped through you. you moaned his name, your vision whitening out as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. you could hear yourself making sounds you didnt know you were capable of, high and completely unfiltered.
toji didnt stop.
he drank you down, his tongue lapping up your release as it flooded out of you. he grunted in satisfaction, his grip on your hips bruising as he held you in place while you rode out the aftershocks.
finally, when you slumped forward against the couch, unable to hold yourself up any longer, he pulled back. you felt cold instantly, missing the heat of his mouth.
he pressed one last kiss to your clit, settling back with a low huff of laughter, your body still slumped against the couch.
older!neighbour! sukuna who really loves it when you decide to sunbathe.
because you don't do it in your backyard, you do it in his.
you've claimed that it's because he has a pool and 'nicer deck chairs', but sukuna knows better. and who is he to complain if you want to give him a show?
older!neighbour!sukuna who has you speared on his cock, your swim bottoms discarded on the ground next to your chosen pool lounger.
"you better be quiet doll, don't want anyone catching you like this, do you?"
"thenā haaahā s-slow down if y-you want me to ā nghhh ā be quiet. "
"nah." sukuna chuckles, pounding into you even harder. " you can take it dolly, you've taken it before. now's no different, you just." thrust "have to be." thrust "quiet." thrust.
older!neighbour!sukuna who 'tortures' you like this every time you come over to lay in the sun, whether it be with his cock, his fingers, or his tongue.
sukuna also likes to coax you into the pool, to 'cool down'. each and everytime, he ends up fucking you slow against the rough pool wall.
and when you go inside once the sun goes down? he makes you cum on his tongue in the shower, and fucks you again in his bed.
yeah, the days you decide to sunbathe are his favourite days.
i love older neighbour sukuna.... dirty old man.... plsss need him to fuck me all over his house
tried to make this gender neutral but i will tag w fem reader just in case!
for @blueberrycandymuffin bc we love unc neighbour sukuna
Maybe it was the way his wife climbed into his lap without a word, pupils blown wide, your cheeks already flushed before he even touched you. Maybe it was the heat pulsing off your body, the way your skin stuck to his, damp with sweat before anything had even started.
Nejiās breath was heavy, his hair stuck to his pretty face, lips parted and trembling like he want to say something, but he can't. His back was pressed against the headboard, and he could barely keep his eyes open.
You were on top of him, still ride him, still moving, still burning hot and so, so wet. Neji's hands shaking, had long since fallen from your hips and now only reached weakly to touch your face. To hold onto something.
āP-pleaseā¦ā he whispered, voice hoarse. āPlease, darlingā¦ā
Your eyes met his, glazed and wide, desperate. You were panting, soaked with sweat, your thighs quivering from how many times youād already reached your peak, from how long youād kept him inside you.
Neji gritted his teeth as your walls tightened around him, again, like your body refused to let go of him.
Neji cum inside you more times than he could countāhis cock aching, overstimulated, twitching helplessly every time your hips ground down just right. But your body wanted more. Needed more. Like it wasnāt enough to be filledāit wanted to be bred. His essence, again and again, until there was nothing left.
ādarlingāwifeāIā¦ I canāt,ā Neji panted, barely able to sit upright. āYouāreānghāmilking me dryā¦ā
You whimpered softly at his words, hips trembling against his lap. Your movements werenāt roughānot anymore. They were shaky now, your rhythm faltering, needy, like your body was running on instinct and adrenaline and love all at once.
āNejiā¦ā you choked out, voice fragile. āI-I canāt stopāfeels too goodāIām sorryāIāā
Neji cupped your flushed cheeks, thumbs gently brushing away the sweat there. āItāsā¦ alright,ā he breathed, even as his legs spasmed beneath you. āYou feelā¦ incredibleā¦ justāā
Your hips rolled againāslow and deepāand he gasped, the sound broken.
āF-fuckāahāno moreāā
You kissed him. Desperately. You tasted like salt and tears and longing, and he kissed you back with every ounce of strength he had left.
You were shaking too now. Your thighs trembled on either side of his hips, and your arms braced on his shoulders as you leaned your forehead to his. Sweat dripped down your neck, between your breasts, down your back. Youād taken him for hours, and still, your body begged for more.
āI love you,ā you whispered, your voice cracking. "I love you, I justāNejiāā
He whimperedāHyuga Neji, who never whimperedāand his hands gripped your hips weakly as you sank down again, taking him all the way, tight and soaked and hot. He could barely breathe.
āWifeā¦ā His voice broke. āYouāre going toā¦ break meā¦ā
But his hands didnāt stop you. They just trembled against your waist.
Your heat swallowed him over and over, the sounds between your bodies obsceneāwet, loud, constant. His cum was leaking out of you in rivulets, dripping down his thighs, down your own, soaking the sheets beneath you. And still, your body begged for more. More warmth. More fullness. More of him.
Your breath hitchedāanother wave coming. Your head dropped to his shoulder, and your hips picked up again, sloppier now, erratic.
āN-Nejiā!ā
You cried out as you came again, hard and desperate and shaking apart in his arms. Your walls clenched violently around him, and he let out a sob, his whole body tensing as your orgasm milked him into another releaseāone he wasnāt ready for, one he couldnāt stop.
His cum spilled into you again, warm and endless, even as he nearly collapsed backward, arms falling limp at his sides.
His body twitched beneath you, his cock still trapped deep inside, sensitive to the point of painābut you stayed there, unmoving, filled and full and dazed.
Your breath came in hard pants against his collarbone.
Nejiās fingers found your cheek again, slow and trembling.
āYouāre burning upā¦ā he whispered, eyelids heavy.
You couldnāt even answer. You just clung to him, forehead pressed to his neck, both of you soaked and exhausted and too full of each other to care.
āW-we need toā¦ we should stop,ā he murmured. āPleaseā¦ just rest now. Let me hold you.ā
Finally, you nodded, body sagging against his chest. Still joined. Still pulsing faintly around him. But you werenāt moving anymore. Youād hit your limit, too.
Neji exhaled shakily, one hand pressing to the back of your head, cradling you.
He held you there, whispering soft things, your name, his love, his awe at your hunger, your need, how beautiful you were even when driven by instinct.
toji fushiguro, was huge in every way that counted. tall, insane muscles, hands that engulfed yours whenever he held them.
so it wasn't a surprise that you were dangling in his arms whenever he fucked you in front of the mirror.
toji's chest was pressed firmly against your back. one of his large hands gripped your jaw, forcing you to watch as every inch of him sank into your greedy cunt. his other hand wrapped around you so tight, forcing you to stay in place, forcing you to feel all of him with no escape.
"look at you.. i'm practically splittin' you in half with how big my cock is," toji said in your ear, his voice thick with desire.
"see how tiny this pretty pussy is? i'm stretching you out reallll good right now.." his cock was stretching your poor pussy out more then you could handle. it was so overwhelming, but it felt so good.
toji wasn't moving yet, slowly easing himself into you so that you wouldn't run away immediately.
"f-fuckā¦ 'ji! i-i- can't" you whimpered, your back arching when he rubs against that spot inside of you so good. "'s too much!" you continued babbling, but toji forced his thumb inside of your mouth, forcing it open so that you couldn't talk anymore.
"shhhhā¦ just take it for me, yeah?" he mumbled against your skin, licking your ear.
then, in one long and deeeep thurst, he bottomed out inside of you. he pulled all the way back up from the tip, and thrusted right back in. over, and over with a bruising pace that left you shaking in his arms.
you couldn't even tell him to stop because all you could do was drool all over his hand like a slut.
"look at how well you're taking meā¦ like she's made for me." he groans as your syrupy, clenching, wet walls begin to tighten around him already.
toji's hand forces you to look in the mirror, and gods, you're so intoxicated by the sight of him envoloping you. a broken moan tears of your throat his time when you buck your hips against him. his hand around your jaw leaves, and instead? he crushes your face with his bicep, headlocking you in place. his free hand slides down and his calloused fingers rub slow circles on your clit.
its too much, but still not enough.
toji's pace is brutual now, hips snapping faster then you can process, the fat of your ass squishing against him as your cunt drools all over him, his precum mixing with your slick and it all drips down between your thighs.
your finger nails dig into his bicep, trying to find any purchase, anything to take the pleasure out on.
"'ji..! pleaseā i can't!" you moaned against his bicep.
"don't careā you're taking every inch." toji's voice was gruff now, strained from fucking you like crazy. his fat tip was hitting your cervix, making you see stars with every bruising thurst.
"i'm gonnaā" you whined against him, scratching at his bicep now. toji's fingers rubbed harder now, the pleasure coiling in your stomach was read to snap.
"cum for me, pretty girl," his voice was hoarse, his own hips stuttering as your orgasm washed over you, waves so intense that your jaw goes slack and you drool on his arm. toji holds you up effortlessly, his own release coming moments later as he buries himself deep inside you with a guttural groan.
you're still shaking in his arms when you see that stupid smirk of his in the mirror.
"can you do another round? for me, doll." he asks, his cock already hardening inside of you again, the shaft throbbing inside you, and you knew you wouldn't be able to walk tomorrow.
Neytiri had noticed the changes in her son over the past weeks.Ā
Neteyam had always been reliable during hunts, steady at her side. Lately though, he slipped away more often, returning later than usual with his braids slightly out of place and a distant look in his eyes.Ā
Today he was meant to help her prepare the evening meal, yet he had not appeared. Worry nudged at her, quiet but persistent, so she set out along the familiar trails, calling his name softly at first.
The sounds reached her before the sight did ā soft, intimate noises from the grove. Neytiri pushed through the leaves and stopped short.
Neteyamās face was buried between your thighs, his hands holding you open as he worked with focused devotion. Your back arched slightly, one hand gripping his shoulder, the other tangled in the moss.
The moan broke from your lips as his tongue dragged hot and flat through your soaked folds.Ā
Neteyam had you laid out on the soft moss in the hidden grove, thighs spread wide around his head while he devoured your pussy with slow, hungry licks.Ā
His strong hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as his mouth worked you open, tongue sliding deep inside your dripping cunt before pulling back to swirl around your swollen clit.
He groaned against you, the low sound vibrating straight through your core. āTaste so good,ā he murmured, barely lifting his mouth before diving back in, licking messy and greedy, lips sucking softly on your clit until your hips jerked against his face.Ā
His braids fell forward, brushing your thighs as he buried himself deeper, tongue fucking into you in steady strokes, drinking down every drop of your arousal with wet, obscene sounds.
Neytiriās voice cut through the air, sharp with disbelief. āWhat is this?ā
Neytiri stood at the edge of the grove, eyes wide with shock that quickly turned to anger.Ā
Neteyam froze above you, ears pinning flat. You scrambled to sit up, heart pounding as you quickly reached for your discarded loincloth with shaky hands.Ā
The fabric felt tangled and awkward in your rush, cheeks burning hot as you tried to tie it back into place.
Neteyam moved fast to help, his fingers steady despite everything, gently adjusting the ties at your hips and smoothing the cloth down your thighs so it sat properly. His touch was quick and careful in the middle of the panic.
āMotherāā he started, voice low.
āGo home,ā Neytiri told you firmly, her tone leaving little room for argument, though it carried an undercurrent of concern rather than pure fury. āNow.ā
You gathered yourself and slipped away, cheeks warm, the moment shattering around you.Ā
Before you passed Neytiri, you gave Neteyam a small pat on the back, soft and quick, meant to steady him before you disappeared down the path toward home.
Neytiri turned to Neteyam, reaching out to grab him firmly by the ear, the way she had when he was small and reckless.
āDoes your father know about this?ā she demanded, guiding him back toward the village with purposeful steps.
Neteyam winced slightly at the hold but answered evenly. āHe does.ā
When they got back, she decided that saying nothing to him was for the bestĀ
The next evening the air around the cooking fire felt thick with unspoken things. Fish sizzled over the flames while Neytiri tended it with careful movements.Ā
You sat nearby, awkward under the weight of yesterdayās discovery, eyes flicking between the food and the ground.Ā
Neteyam sat across from his mother, trying to focus on the meal, but his gaze kept drifting to you.
He broke the eye contact between you and his mother by looking down at the fire, then quietly tapped his thigh against yours under the cover of the low table. The small contact brought a faint smile to your lips despite everything.
Neytiri noticed. Her posture stiffened just a touch. āDo you two need room?ā she asked, voice calm but edged.
Neteyam looked at her sweetly, the way he always did when trying to ease tension. āWhat is the problem, Mother?ā
āIt is nothing,ā she replied, turning the fish with a little more force than necessary.
He watched her for a moment, then asked gently, āIs it because of what you saw yesterday?ā
Neytiri paused, then shook her head. āNo. You are both adults now.ā
Neteyam studied her expression, his own softening. āIs it because you did not know?ā
Despite not saying anything, she gave a small nod, ears lowering slightly.
He exhaled quietly, a hint of fondness in his voice. āEven Father did not know at firstā¦ he found out the same way.ā
Neytiriās eyes widened a fractionā¦ ā are you guys doing this everydāā
Jake, who had been listening from nearby, rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. āYeahā¦ letās just say Iāve seen some things.ā
then a reluctant laugh escaped her, short and surprised. The sound broke some of the awkwardness, easing the tightness around the fire. You felt your own shoulders relax, a quiet smile forming as the tension started to lift.
Neytiri couldnāt keep you guys apart from each other.
It got worse than before as the sneaking continued.
One afternoon, while your mother was out gathering herbs, you stayed behind to prepare fresh fish for the evening meal. soft light filtering through the woven walls of your home as you worked at the low table, knife moving steadily over the scales.
Neteyam slipped inside without a sound, his presence warm behind you before you even heard his footsteps. He stepped close, arms sliding around your waist, and pressed a slow kiss to the side of your neck. His breath was warm against your skin, sending a small shiver down your spine.
āI like this look on you,ā he murmured, voice low and fond, lips brushing your ear. āMy mate, preparing food for her familyā¦ it suits you.ā
You laughed softly, leaning back into him for a moment, the knife pausing in your hand. āNot too long, My mother will be back any minute so she will take all the attentionā
But the laugh turned into something quieter when his hands tightened on your waist, pulling you closer.Ā
One thing led to another ā his mouth on your neck again, your head tilting to give him more room, the fish forgotten on the table. Before you knew it, he had you on your back on the woven mats, your legs bent and folded behind your head as he sank deep inside you with one smooth thrust.
his cock filling you completely. Neteyam groaned low against your mouth, hips rolling in deep strokes that made your breath catch. āIām almost there,ā he whispered, voice rough and close, forehead pressed to yours. āKeep quiet, yawne.ā
You tried ā you really did ā but soft moans slipped out anyway, your walls clenching around him with every thrust. āMy mom is gonna be here soon,ā you gasped between moans, the words broken and breathy as pleasure built fast and hot. āNeteyamāahāsheāll be back any momentāā
He didnāt slow down, just fucked you deeper, the wet sounds of your bodies meeting filling the small home. His rut was starting to edge in, making his movements a little more urgent, his scent heavier, the base of his cock swelling slightly with each push. āJust a little longer,ā he breathed against your lips, eyes half-lidded and dark. āYou feel too good.ā
The door flap rustled.
Your mother stepped in, basket of seasonings in hand, and dropped it with a sharp clatter. Spices and dried herbs scattered across the floor. āWhat is going on here!ā she cried, voice rising in shock and anger. Her eyes widened at the sight ā you on your back with your legs folded high, Neteyam still buried deep inside you, both of you frozen mid motion.
Neteyam pulled out quickly, shielding you as best he could while you scrambled to cover yourself, cheeks burning. Your motherās face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and fury.
āHow dare you do this in my home?ā she snapped, stepping forward. āNeteyam, you are the future Oloāeyktan ā is this how you show respect? And youāā she turned to you, voice trembling with worry, āāI raised you better than to let this happen when I could walk in at any moment.ā
The argument lasted longer than you expected. Your mother paced, gesturing sharply. āPregnancy is not a game. Your heats are approaching, and his rut is already starting ā I can smell it on him. One slip and you will be carrying a child before either of you are ready. I do not want my daughter with child yet. The clan is still recovering. You both have responsibilities, training, duties. This rushing will only bring trouble.ā
Neteyam listened quietly, ears low, offering soft apologies when she paused for breath. You sat beside him, mortified but unable to deny the warmth that still lingered between you.
Finally, as the tension eased just a fraction, your mother pointed toward the door. āNeteyam, Out. Both of you need to think about what you are risking.ā
On his way out, she stopped Neteyam with a firm look. āIt is not respectful to do such activities in my home, Neteyam. Not while I am expected back any moment.ā
Neteyam bowed his head slightly, sincere. āI am sorry. It wonāt happen again here.ā He glanced back at you with a small, secret smile ā warm and full of that quiet pining ā before slipping out the door and running off toward the village paths.
Your mother watched him go, then turned to you with a long sigh, the anger softening into tired concern. The fish still waited on the table, half prepared, while the scattered seasonings lay forgotten on the floor.Ā
Lowk, I had to do a bit of research on ruts and stuff and it was pretty interesting, Iāve never written anything about this so Iām sorry ā¦ please tell me more about ruts and stuff, I would love to write something similar
ā„ šOW TO BAG A HOT DILF: 5-STEP BEGINNERāS GUIDE !
š¼ummary: the hot, grumpy dad next door wonāt give you the time of day? hereās how to make him fuck you stupid anyway. warning: side effects may include pregnancy.
ā„ STEP 1 ā commit to the bit (and the bit is wanting him SO bad youāre willing to risk federal charges)
you donāt believe in love at first sight. youāre not that kind of girl.
but lust at first sight?
yeah. that one had you in a chokehold the second you saw him hauling a case of bottled water into his apartment, dressed in nothing but grey sweatpants and a faded black tank topā one that clung to the broad curve of his back like it owed you something. like it knew what it was doing.
he didnāt even look at you. not really. just grunted out a soft āheyā when you passed, voice low and rough like he hadnāt spoken to anyone in days, and disappeared into the dark crack of his doorway with a hand scrubbing at the back of his neck, muscles flexing under golden skin and black ink.
youāve been down so fucking bad ever since.
toji fushiguro.
your across-the-hall neighbor. father of one. age: probably late thirties. height: unfair. attitude: uninterested.
the kind of man who walks around the building shirtless at night with a beer in hand, who leaves his door cracked open when heās working out in the living room, who definitely has a ādonāt talk to meā aura and the look of someone whoās been burned by love and never really recovered from it.
and of course, of course, thatās exactly your type.
(but in your defense, itās not like this came out of nowhere. youāve always had a thing for older men. itās the deep voice, the scars, the rough hands and emotional unavailability. itās the way they look at you like theyāve lived five lives and none of them ended well. also? your dad never called you back after your high school graduation. so. connect the dots.)
it wasnāt supposed to be like this. you were just supposed to move in.
fresh start. new city. small apartment, low rent, okay view. the listing said āquiet neighborhoodā and you said āsure, whateverā because all you needed was a clean kitchen and decent lighting. you didnāt ask for a brooding, musclebound dilf living directly across the hall like some kind of cruel test of character.
but now?
youāve memorized the exact time he leaves in the morning. you know which beer he drinks. you know the sound of his shower turning on. youāve adjusted your hallway appearances to ācasually hot girl next doorā levels and tried every combination of crop top and pajama shorts known to man.
and the worst part?
he hasnāt made a single move. not one. no smirk. no side-eye. not even the classic ādidnāt know girls like you lived around hereā line. heās justā¦ normal. silent. borderline rude. polite only when necessary, otherwise acts like you barely exist.
you wave when you see himā he nods.
you held the elevator door once and he told you, ādonāt worry about it,ā like he was doing you a favor by taking the stairs.
youāve walked past him in tight leggings, skimpy pajama shorts, cute little tank tops with no bra underneath, but still, nothing.
not even a flicker of interest. not even a glance.
at first, you thought maybe he wasnāt into it. maybe he had a secret wife. maybe he wasā god forbidā celibate.
but then you caught him on the balcony one night. shirtless. sweaty. cigarette between his fingers, hair pushed back, staring off into the distance like he was thinking about his tragic backstory. and when you stepped out to water your plants, leaned just slightly over the railing in your tiniest shortsā
his eyes dropped.
slow. deliberate.
right to your thighs.
then back up to the skyline like nothing happened.
and thatās when you knew.
heās not blind. heās just resisting.
which brings you to now.
standing in front of his door like a fucking maniac, heart pounding like youāre about to ring the bell at the gates of horny hell, holding a suspiciously clean, never-before-touched envelope you pulled from the depths of your junk drawer ten minutes ago.
itās addressed to his unit, obviously.
but itās been in your apartment the entire time.
because youāre a liar.
and youāre going to get your neighborās attention if it kills you.
the door opens faster than you expect. no warning creak, no slow revealā just a single click and then bam, itās open, and there he is.
up close. full resolution. shirtless again. grey sweats again. taller than he looked in the hallway. and staring down at you like heās trying to figure out whether youāre here to sell something or commit a crime.
his hair is messyā fresh out the shower messy, strands curling a little at the ends, pushed back and damp like he towel-dried and gave up halfway. a faint scratch trails down his collarbone. thereās a tattoo peeking from under his left pec. you are not okay.
āā¦yeah?ā he asks, voice still that same low, unbothered gravel. like he was just in the middle of something. like you interrupted him.
you blink once. then twice. and hand him the envelope as if itās some kind of peace offering.
āthis was in my mailbox,ā you say, a little too fast. ābut itās for your unit.ā
he glances down. doesnāt take it yet. his brow furrows.
āā¦you live in 402, right?ā
your heart drops. you manage a nod. āyeah.ā
he looks back at the envelope, then back at you, and cocks his head a little. āthis says 404.ā
āright,ā you nod again, smiling like a liar. āwhich is your unit.ā
thereās a pause. a long one.
toji squints slightly, eyes narrowing like heās trying to decide whether youāre stupid or suspicious. thenā finallyā he sighs, takes the envelope from your hand with two fingers, and mutters, āthanks.ā
and then. then. a small voice behind him:
āwhoās at the door?ā
you peek past him instinctivelyā
and there he is. a kid. dark-haired, serious-looking, big eyes and bigger pout. tiny arms crossed over a cartoon t-shirt like he pays rent. he clocks you immediately, gaze traveling from your face to your outfit and back again, like heās judging you in 4K.
toji looks over his shoulder. ājust the neighbor. āgumi, go back inside.ā
āyou said we could watch something,ā the kid says, very clearly not moving. very clearly invested.
āyeah, and i will,ā toji sighs, the kind of sigh that sounds like heās already used to negotiating with a tiny lawyer. āin a minute.ā
youāre standing here braless, in a crop top and fluffy socks, trying to flirt with a dilf, and his childā his ten-year-old childā is right there in the background watching this all go down like itās an episode of Love Is Blind: Divorce Court Edition.
you panic. you smile. you crouch slightly like a Girl Who Is Good With Kidsā¢ and wave.
āyou were singing in the stairwell yesterday,ā he adds, like heās filing a noise complaint.
toji exhales through his nose, clearly already tired. āalright,ā he mutters, shifting his weight as if heās trying to end this conversation with his entire body. āthanks for dropping this off.ā
you panic again. youāre spiraling. this is not going to plan. you were supposed to be effortlessly hot, a little mysterious, maybe get invited in for a drink. instead youāre sweating through your tank top, getting stared down by a ten-year-old and dismissed like some door-to-door scam.
abort mission. regroup.
you nod, stepping back quickly. āno problem! anytime.ā
he doesnāt respond. just closes the door halfway and disappears, voice fading as he calls back to megumiā āpick a movie that isnāt garbage this timeā ābefore the door clicks shut behind him.
silence.
the hallway feels colder now.
you stand there for a second. maybe two. then turn on your heel and march straight back to your apartment, locking the door behind you with a little more force than necessary and collapsing onto your couch with a dramatic, miserable groan.
okay. so maybe the fake-mail delivery thing was a bust. maybe you didnāt make the strongest first impression. maybe megumiās gonna go to school on monday and tell his friends he saw a thirsty neighbor try to seduce his dad and fail in real time.
but youāre not giving up!
because toji fushiguro isnāt oblivious. he looked. you know he looked.
heās just being difficult. reserved. nonchalant. you love that shit. itās practically a challenge.
which brings you to:
ā„ STEP 2 ā establish neighborly rapport (aka: force more interactions)
youāve already had contact. now itās time for consistency. eye contact. hallway banter. the illusion of familiarity. youāre gonna bump into him enough that he has no choice but to acknowledge your existenceā and then? then youāll break him down. slowly. methodically. emotionally.
you have a plan.
a little awkward start isnāt gonna stop you. not when he looks like that with wet hair and lazy sweatpants. not when his voice sounds like it could ruin your entire sense of self-worth with a single sentence.
step two starts tomorrow.
or tonight, depending on how bold you feel. your package is supposed to arrive soonā you could just happen to be outside when it gets delivered. or drop something near his door again. or, worst case scenario, start a small fire and see if he comes running.
youāre in too deep to turn back now.
besidesā if megumiās already seen you at your worst, thereās nowhere to go but up.
you start running into him a lot more.
not in a weird way. youāre not, like, stalking. youāre justā¦ situationally strategic.
like this morningā how coincidentally, you happened to take your trash out the exact moment he left for a run. and when he walked past you in those same criminally low-hanging sweatpants, headphones in, shirt clinging to his chest like it wanted you dead? yeah. totally natural timing.
you smiled. waved. gave a little āmorning!ā
he gave you a nod and kept jogging.
progress.
and yesterday? you timed your laundry schedule to line up with his, based purely on auditory research (aka: eavesdropping through the vents), and when he came down to switch out his load, you were already bent over the dryer in your tiny shorts like a good little trap.
he walked in. saw you. paused.
you straightened up way too fast and bumped your elbow, trying to look breezy while hiding the way your heart rate doubled on sight. āoh- hey! laundry day?ā
toji looked at you. then at the dryer. then back at you. āā¦yeah.ā
another pause.
god, heās so fucking impossible.
you gave him your brightest smile and added, āmine too! small world.ā
āā¦we live in the same building,ā he said, completely deadpan, before opening the washer and pulling out a fistful of dark clothes like you werenāt trying to orchestrate a meet-cute over tide pods. he moved with the exhausted efficiency of a man who hated small talk and suspected you might be trying to sell him essential oils.
you wanted to scream. you smiled instead.
āright,ā you laughed. āduh. neighbors.ā
he didnāt answer. just shoved his clothes into the dryer, grabbed his detergent, and left the room like it was a hostage negotiation and you were the threat. didnāt even look back. but you saw it.
the twitch in his jaw when you bent over again. the extra second of eye contact before he left. the little crack in his silence when you giggled at your own joke and his mouth twitchedā barely, but it did. youāre starting to learn his tells.
like tonightā when you caught him coming back from the grocery store, arms full of bags, and offered to hold the elevator door open for him again.
āyou donāt have to,ā he said, almost automatically.
but this time you didnāt let him off so easily.
you flashed a cheeky smile, cocked your head to the side, and replied, āwell i want to. unless you wanna take the stairs and pretend youāre not tired.ā
that got you a look. brief. amused. his lips pressed into something that wasnāt quite a smirk, but not nothing either.
he stepped in and stood beside you, towering and silent and pretending he wasnāt eyeing your legs in the reflective elevator wall. you leaned against the side and grinned to yourself like a lunatic.
āwhat floor?ā you asked, already knowing the answer. playing dumb. living your sitcom fantasy.
āā¦same as yours,ā he muttered, setting the bags down for a second. āyou know that.ā
you beamed. ājust making conversation.ā
he sighed. quiet. tired. maybe even a little fond, but you couldnāt tell.
and then, just as the doors opened, a sleepy voice echoed from down the hallā ādad?ā
toji blinked. glanced up.
megumi stood outside their apartment in socks and Spider-Man pajamas, squinting at the two of you like he was already judging this moment for future therapy sessions.
āyou took forever,ā he said. āi thought you died.ā
āwell i didnāt,ā toji grunted, picking up the bags again. āget inside.ā
you waved. again. because apparently, this is your life now. itās not enough to get embarrassed in front of your crushā his preteen son also has to witness your descent into neighborhood whore madness.
megumi stared. then looked at his dad. then back at you.
āā¦hi.ā
victory.
youāre three days into operation āestablish rapportā and you swear itās working. slowly. heās still playing it coolā gruff, quiet, annoyingly unaffectedā but youāre catching those little cracks. the way he looks at you when he thinks youāre not paying attention. the tiny pauses before he responds. the way his eyes always drop to your mouth when you smile too wide. the way he takes just a little too long to look away.
heās slipping.
and youāre gonna be right there to catch him.
ā„ STEP 3 ā engineered domestic proximity (create a situation where he owes you and then emotionally blackmail him with kindness!)
it starts with a fake injury.
not like, hospital fake. just a little casual suffering. something light and flirty and ādamn she might be unwellā coded.
you pick a thursday. the hallwayās quiet. you hear his door openā the soft clink of keys, the slow creak of the hingeā and then you strike.
toji turns the corner just in time to see you slumped against your apartment door, barefoot, hair a mess, hoodie slipping off your shoulder, clutching your ankle like a romcom extra whoās about to fall in love with the first man who offers her an ice pack. you even let out a pitiful little āugh,ā as though gravity personally attacked you.
he stops. eyes narrow.
āā¦what the hell happened to you?ā
you wince, voice trembling perfectly as you look up at him with wide eyes and say, āi tripped on the stairs.ā
technically true. you did, in fact, trip. you just made sure it was today. and loud enough for him to hear.
āyou didnāt even leave your apartment,ā he deadpans, looking absolutely done.
āā¦gravityās everywhere.ā
he sighs like youāre the worldās most annoying problem. runs a hand over his face. and then crouches down.
you try not to short-circuit.
his hand wraps around your ankleā casually, confidently, like heās done this a hundred times before, and his thumb brushes over your skin, rough and warm and way too distracting. he presses, checks the joint, and you flinch very dramatically.
he doesnāt react. āitās not broken.ā
you pout. āstill hurts.ā
toji gives you a long, tired look. then rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath, probably something that sounds suspiciously like āfucking drama queen,ā but reaches out anyway. big hands slide under your legs and back, and suddenly youāre being lifted. literally carried.
you make a noise that is not normal.
ājesus,ā he grunts, shifting you in his arms. āwhat the hell do you eat?ā
āexcuse me??ā
ārelax,ā he says, toeing open your apartment door. āyouāre light.ā
you are going to die here.
he carries you across the threshold like a goddamn bride and sets you down gently on the couch, muttering something about āneedy neighborsā as he tosses your throw blanket over your lap. then pauses. stares at you for a second too long. his brows draw together like heās thinking something he shouldnāt be.
āā¦donāt move,ā he says finally. āiāll get an ice pack.ā
he disappears into your kitchenā uninvited, completely aware of where your freezer isā and you clutch the blanket to your chest like itās holy protection from your own bad decisions and whisper:
āoh my god.ā
step three is officially a success.
after that, things shift.
slow. subtle. like the hallway air is warmer now. like he doesnāt avoid you anymore.
the next time you make too much pasta (on purpose), you knock on his door and offer leftovers. ājust in case,ā you say with a smile. he raises an eyebrow, gives you a long look, but takes the container anyway.
āitās good,ā he mutters a few days later, passing you in the hall.
you blink. āwhat?ā
āthe pasta. wasnāt bad.ā
you nearly trip over your own shoes.
when you run into him carrying groceries, you casually ask if he needs anything next time you go. he grunts something about paper towels. the next day, you drop off a pack at his door with a sticky note that says āpaper-towel princess strikes again >:)ā and you swear you hear him laugh. just once. low. barely there.
and megumi? megumi is your new little buddy.
you āaccidentallyā bump into them on the stairs one weekend and ask him about schoolā next thing you know, youāre helping him with a science project at your dining table, glitter on your shirt and glue in your hair, and he actually smiles at you when it lights up. his eyes go wide. he looks proud. you melt.
toji shows up to get him an hour later.
he stops in the doorway, arms crossed. eyes flick between you and megumi on the couch, surrounded by worksheets and snacks and a movie playing softly in the background.
āā¦you donāt have to babysit, yāknow.ā
you glance up, then nudge megumi with your shoulder. āheās cool. weāre having fun.ā
toji stares. unreadable. his jaw works like heās chewing on something he wonāt say. and then he nods. once. slow.
āā¦yeah. heās good.ā
he leaves with megumi five minutes later, and you spend the rest of the night curled into your couch like a girl who just got emotionally married in the hallway.
a few days pass.
and thenā he knocks on your door.
you open it and nearly fall over, because heās standing there in a black t-shirt, holding a plastic container full of something that smells like soy sauce and heaven. his hairās messy. his jawās tight. he doesnāt look like he wants to be here. but he is.
āwe made too much,ā he says. pauses. adds, almost begrudgingly, āme and āgumi.ā
your brain goes static.
you accept it like itās a holy relic. your hand brushes his. itās fine. youāre normal.
āthank you,ā you breathe, like itās something sacred.
you eat together on the steps between your units that night. plastic forks. beer for him, water bottle for you. megumiās inside watching something with way too much volume. the hallway buzzes with soft domestic noise.
he chucklesā an actual, real chuckleā when you tell him about your failed ankle stunt getting you out of gym class in high school. it sounds like it surprises him. like it doesnāt happen often. you want to bottle the sound and save it for winter.
and then, as youāre wiping sauce from the corner of your mouth, he gives you this long, unreadable look. his eyes flick to your mouth. linger.
āyouāre trouble, arenāt you?ā
you almost pass out.
āyeah,ā you say, smiling slow. ābut iām cute about it.ā
he laughs again. soft. huffed. the kind that makes your stomach flutter in the worst/best way.
note to self: a chuckle = an emotional orgasm in dilf language.
ā„ STEP 4 ā desperate times, horny measures (blur the line between āfriendly neighborā and āwould let you hit raw if you asked nicelyā)
youāve played the long game. youāve laid the groundwork. youāve smiled, cooked, lingered in doorways and memorized his hallway habits. you helped his child with a diorama. you have earned your place in this manās orbit. and now, youāre upping the ante.
tight tank tops with no bra? daily.
asking if he needs help lifting shit? always.
bending down in front of him for no reason whatsoever? the moment requires it.
youāve āaccidentallyā dropped your keys outside his door. twice.
youāve complimented his cologne when he wasnāt wearing any.
youāve said the phrase āyou mustāve been crazy hot in your twentiesā with a completely straight face and full eye contactā just to watch his eyebrow twitch like he was deciding whether to argue or kiss you.
and toji?
toji has looked.
slow. restrained. but itās there.
the way his gaze drops and lingers. the way his hand flexes when you laugh too hard. the way he sometimes says your name like it annoys him to have it on his tongue, like heās chewing on it instead of swallowing. youāre getting to him. you know you are.
especially tonight.
itās late. youāre bored. your hair looks good and your shorts are criminal. and you know heās home because you heard the clink of a beer bottle hit his counter through your shared wall. so naturally, you text him:
you up?
no responseā¦
you try again:
iām making cookies and need a taste tester. u down?
thereās a pause. long enough to make you regret it. then finally:
donāt burn your kitchen down.
whichā okay. rude. but also? not a no.
you show up at his door with a plate of warm cookies and the dumbest smile imaginable, leaning against the doorframe like a horny little housewife in denial, praying your lip gloss doesnāt smudge when you inevitably start smiling too hard.
the door swings open. and there he is.
shirtless, because of course. low sweatpants, towel around his neck, hair still damp. a vein in his bicep flexing like itās personally here to ruin you. he raises an eyebrow when he sees you.
āyou actually baked something?ā
you pout. ādonāt sound so shocked.ā
he huffs. not quite a laugh. steps aside and lets you in. silent permission. another small victory.
you sit on the couch, drop the plate between you. he takes a cookie. you take a risk.
āsoā¦ā you say, crossing your legs slowly, letting your voice dip soft and sweet. āwhat do i get if theyāre good?ā
toji chews. swallows. side-eyes you. āā¦you want a prize for not poisoning me?ā
you tilt your head, smile like trouble. lean a little closer, so your thigh brushes his.
āi want something,ā you murmur.
he watches you. unreadable.
your heartās racing. your legās touching his. the tension is so thick it could suffocate a small village. heās quiet. too quiet. and for a secondā a single, traitorous secondā you believe. believe heās going to touch you. say something filthy. kiss you.
and thenā he stands up.
you freeze.
no.
he walks to the door.
absolutely not.
he opens it.
āgo home, sweetheart.ā
you blink. āā¦what?ā
he doesnāt look at you. doesnāt even flinch.
āyouāve had your fun,ā he mutters, voice low. final. ātime to go.ā
the plate of cookies is still on the table. your lip gloss is still perfect. and this manā this walking thirst trap of a dilfā just opened the door and told you to leave as if you were an inconvenience.
you stand there for five full seconds. staring at the wood grain like it personally wronged you. your mouth opens. closes. no words come out.
no explanation. no thank you. not even a cookie to-go.
you take the hint.
you walk homeā five steps that feel like a funeral marchā let yourself back into your apartment with hands that wonāt stop shaking, and close the door behind you like it might collapse if you donāt hold it up. then you crawl into bed, pull the blanket over your head, and try very, very hard not to cry over a man who never asked you to try this hard in the first place.
ā„ STEP 5 ā let him come to you (the part of the spiral where you stop trying, and he starts breaking)
youāve stopped trying.
no more cookies. no fake run-ins or conveniently timed errands. youāre done bending over near his door like some desperate domestic goddess waiting to be claimed. no more lingering glances, no flirty texts, no smiles he could possibly mistake for an invitation
you go cold. polite. distant.
āhey,ā he mutters in the hallway one morning, voice a little rough from sleep.
āmorning,ā you reply. clipped. unreadable. no smile.
you donāt linger. donāt wait for anything in return. you catch him glancing over when you pass, but you donāt look back. just keep walking like youāve got better things to do than pine for a man who slams doors in your face.
when megumi finds you on the stairs the following weekend and asks if you want to help with another project, you smile softly, press a hand to the top of his head, and say, ānot this week, bud. busy.ā he frowns a little. you ruffle his hair, and walk away without looking up.
you start going out more.
wearing new outfits. dresses you hadnāt felt bold enough to wear before. lip gloss that makes your mouth look mean. you let strangers hold the door for you. let them compliment you. you let them linger.
you laugh too loud outside your apartment one night, on purpose, after coming back from a date with someone who isnāt him. your heels click against the floor. your voice drips with honey. you lean against your door while someone says something into your ear and you throw your head back like itās the funniest thing youāve ever heard.
you know heās listening.
you feel his eyes on you like a bruise forming slow.
and then the shift begins.
itās subtle, at first.
he starts speaking more.
āmorninā,ā he grunts one day, voice thicker now. rougher.
you nod, toss him a quiet āhey.ā
ānew dress?ā he says one night when you pass in the hallway.
you glance down at it, fingers brushing your hip. nod again. āyeah.ā
he stares a second too long.
you keep walking.
the next week, he holds the elevator for you. for the first time.
you step inside without looking at him, lean against the mirrored wall, arms crossed. he stands beside you, silent for a second too long.
āā¦got plans tonight?ā he asks.
you glance at him. his handās on the railing. his eyes are on your legs. the heat between you is palpable.
āmaybe,ā you shrug. āwhy? you wanna know if iām free?ā
he doesnāt answer. just scoffs. looks away.
but his jaw tightens. you see it.
and you smile to yourself when the elevator dings.
you donāt stop. you donāt wait.
and thenā one night. late.
a knock at your door.
you werenāt expecting it. youāre in your tank top and sleep shorts, hair still a little messy, face clean of makeup. for a second you debate not opening it at all.
but then you do.
heās there.
black t-shirt. low voice. tension rolling off him like heat. his eyes sweep over you onceā bare legs, bare face, bare everythingā and settle on your mouth.
you open your lips to say something but nothing comes out. for a second, he doesnāt speak. just stares. like heās trying to remember why this was a bad idea.
āyou done with your little game?ā he asks finally, voice rough, jaw set.
you blink. tilt your head. heart stuttering.
āwhy?ā you say. āyou jealous?ā
he exhales slow. like heās holding something in. then steps forward, just once. close enough that his chest nearly brushes yours. the hallway hums with silence. you can feel it thickening between youāevery breath, every second, every inch of space closing.
he looks down at you, jaw clenched. his eyes are darker than youāve ever seen them. his gaze drops to your mouth. lingers.
āyou think i havenāt thought about fucking you since the first day you moved in?ā
jackpot.
you smile. slow. wicked.
āwell,ā you murmur, stepping back just enough to tug him inside, āwhat are you waiting for?ā
ā„ STEP 5.1 ā fuck the dilf. repeatedly!! (aka: daddy finally breaks, and so does your spine)
the door isnāt even fully closed before heās got you pinned against it, one hand slamming it shut behind you while the other grips your jaw hard enough to tilt your head back. his mouth crashes into yoursā hot, hungry, furiousā like heās trying to erase every other man whoās ever looked at you, every laugh you gave someone else, every second you werenāt his.
his hands are everywhere. gripping your waist, your throat, your jaw. rough. greedy. like heās trying to memorize the shape of you through sheer force, like he doesnāt trust himself to stop once he starts. his fingers dig into your skin hard enough to leave marks, dragging you closer, forcing your body flush against his so you can feel himā hard, heavy, pressing insistently between you.
āthis what you wanted, sweetheart?ā he growls, dragging his mouth down your neck, teeth scraping just enough to make you shiver. āwalkinā around like that every damn day- no bra, tiny little shorts, always smilinā at me like a fuckinā teaseāā
you gasp when he shoves his thigh between yours, grinding hard, forcing your hips to rock against him. your pussyās already soakedā soaked enough that the friction makes your head spin, a broken little whimper slipping out before you can stop it. he feels it. of course he does.
āfuck,ā he mutters, voice dropping lower, eyes darkening as he watches your face fall apart. āalready wet. knew it. knew you were walkinā around like that for me.ā
āyou shouldnāt be here,ā you breathe, even as your hands clutch at his shirt, dragging him closer, nails digging into his back like youāre scared heāll disappear and youād rather die than have him pull away now.
ādonāt fuckinā care,ā he snarls, cupping your pussy through your panties, pressing just enough to make your knees buckle. his thumb drags over you, feeling how drenched you are through the thin fabric. ābeen thinkinā about this cunt for weeks.ā
you moanā full body, spine-arching, dignity-leaving moanā as he yanks your panties to the side and sinks two fingers into you without hesitation. nothing stops him. your body takes him easily, molded for him, as though his hands belong there and theyāve always known exactly where to go.
youāre so wet itās obscene. it squelches. it gives around him immediately, your walls fluttering, clenching like they recognize him, like theyāve been waiting.
āshit,ā he hisses, pumping his fingers slow just to feel it, watching the way your face twists. ātight little thing. messy already. all that attitude just ācause you needed a cock in you, huh?ā
you nod, crying out, grinding against his palm like a bitch in heat, chasing the friction, chasing him, hips moving on instinct, your body no longer yours to command.
he slaps your cunt. hard. you jerk, a broken sob ripping out of you.
āuse your words.ā
āyes, fuck, yes, i wanted this, wanted you, please- needed you so bad- been thinking about you tooāā
āyeah?ā he mocks, curling his fingers just right, hitting that spot that makes your vision blur, your knees give out. āneeded daddyās cock that bad? all that work just to get it, huh?ā
he pulls his fingers out and licks them clean, making eye contact while his tongue drags over his knucklesā savoring you, devouring every trace with the hunger of a man whoās finally getting what heās craved.
you feel your face burn. your thighs tremble. your body aches.
āneedy lil thing,ā he mutters. āso desperate for daddyās cock you made friends with my kid to get it.ā
your mouth drops open.
āfuck,ā you whisper, humiliated, horny, heart beating out of your chest. āi-i didnātāā
āyeah, you did,ā he cuts you off, voice low and certain, already tugging his sweats down. āi saw right through you. every little look. everytime you bent over in front of me like you were askinā for it.ā
his cock springs freeā massive, thick, veiny, heavy against your stomach, already leaking. it twitches when he drags it through your folds, smearing your wetness all over himself, groaning under his breath at the feeling.
āwatchinā me, droppin shit in the hallway, showinā up all cute with cookiesāā he continues, voice roughening. āall so iād fuck you like this.ā
he grabs your hips. lifts you like itās easy.
you wrap your legs around him on instinct, clinging, desperate, your ankles locking behind his back.
he slams you against the wall and shoves in deep.
you scream.
it burns for half a secondā then itās just full. overwhelming. he stretches you open, every inch fitting so perfectly it feels intentional, inevitableā your body made to take him, built around the shape of him alone.
āthis what you wanted?ā he growls, already moving, already setting a brutal pace, hips snapping hard into yours. āwanted daddy to stuff this sloppy little cunt so full you canāt think?ā
youāre crying already. sobbing into his shoulder, nails clawing at him, dragging down his back hard enough to leave lines. āyesyes- oh my god- yes please- donāt stop, donāt stopāā
he doesnāt. he canāt.
he fucks you hard. no mercy. no build-up. just punishing, deep, filthy strokes that slam into you over and over, your tits bouncing with every thrust, your body jostling against the wall, the wet sound of it echoing in the roomā proof of how wrecked you are for him.
ālisten to that,ā he grunts, one hand coming down to grab your ass, spreading you open, forcing himself even deeper. āfuckinā soaked. takinā me so easy.ā
ātojiāā
ānah,ā he snaps, grabbing your jaw again, forcing you to look at him, eyes blown wide, mouth open, completely ruined. āsay it right.ā
ādaddyāā you choke.
his hips stutter for half a second. then he loses it.
āyeah,ā he groans, fucking into you harder, deeper, pace turning reckless. āthatās it. say it again.ā
āgood girl,ā he breathes, voice wrecked now, forehead pressing against yours. āknew youād sound pretty sayinā it.ā
he keeps going until your legs shake so hard you canāt hold yourself up, until your body goes limp in his arms, until youāre nothing but weight and noise and need. then he drags you away from the wall, carries you like you weigh nothing, and drops you onto the couch.
your shirtās gone in seconds. your tits spill free, bouncing when he grabs them, squeezing hard, biting one, then the other, tongue dragging over the marks he leaves, teeth sinking in just enough to make you cry out.
you whine, arching into him, completely gone, hips lifting even though you can barely move.
ālook at you,ā he mutters, almost to himself. āfuckinā ruined already.ā
he spits on your chest. spreads it with his thumb. then shoves you back, spreading your legs open, staring at your dripping cunt like itās dinner, like he could spend hours there.
ānot done with you yet,ā he mutters.
then he dives in.
he eats you out starvingā insatiable, greedy, nothing held back. hasnāt touched anyone in years, and now heās buried in you, treating your pussy like a lifeline. his tongue moves everywhereā flicking, sucking, pushing deep, groaning into the mess heās making, matching your desperation, needing this with the same feverish hunger you do.
ātaste so fuckinā good,ā he mumbles against you, nose brushing your clit, making you jerk violently. āall for me, huh? all this just for me?ā
youāre shaking. crying. your hands in his hair, grinding down onto his face, desperate, greedy, nasty.
āyes- fuck- yesāā
he hums, pleased, and the vibration sends you over immediately.
you cum once. then twice. he doesnāt stop. he eats you through it, moaning into your pussy while you scream and sob and claw at the cushions like a feral bitch, your thighs clamping around his head, back arching off the couch.
ātoo much, too muchāā
ānah,ā he mutters, holding you down, hands gripping your thighs so hard theyāll bruise. āyou can take it.ā
and you do. you take it until your body gives out and youāre nothing but a twitching, whimpering mess under him, tears streaking your face, chest heaving.
when he finally pulls back, his face is soaked. his chinās messy. his pupils are blown so wide he looks dangerous.
he strokes his cock over your twitching cunt, dragging it through your folds, tapping your clit just to make you jolt, smearing your wetness back over you.
āyou want daddy to put a baby in you next?ā he growls.
your brain breaks. completely.
you whimper, nodding frantically, tears still clinging to your lashes. āyes pleaseā
he grins. dark. cocky. dangerous.
āfuckinā knew it.ā
and then he slams back in and fucks you like he means itā like heās trying to knock you up, ruin you, break you down and rebuild you around his dick. your body takes it, greedily, desperately, your walls clenching around him like you donāt want to let him go, like you want to keep him there.
āgonna fill you up,ā he groans, thrusts getting sloppy now, deeper somehow, grinding into you. āgonna keep you full of me.ā
he finishes deep. thick. hot. doesnāt pull out. just buries himself as far as he can go and groans into your neck, hips stuttering while you feel itā feel himā filling you, spilling inside you, too much, too warm, your body fluttering around him.
he stays there. holds you. keeps you plugged with his cock while your body trembles and leaks around him.
āgood girl,ā he murmurs, kissing your cheek, softer now but still possessive. ātook me so well.ā
his hand slides down your stomach. presses there. like heās already imagining it.
āyouāre mine now.ā
you barely come back to yourself before heās moving again.
youāre still shaking. still sensitive. your cunt is pulsing, aching and full and leaking around him, your thighs sticky, your body limp and boneless against the couch. every nerve feels raw, like your skinās been turned inside out.
and heās still inside you.
still hard.
you let out a weak, broken sound when he shifts his hips, cock dragging inside youā slow, deliberateā heās reminding you exactly where he is.
ātojiāā you whimper, voice wrecked, barely there.
his hand tightens on your hip immediately.
āwhatād i tell you?ā he mutters, low and sharp.
you choke on a breath. ād-daddyāā
āyeah,ā he exhales, satisfied, rolling his hips again, slower this time, savoring it. āthatās better.ā
you feel everything now. every inch. every drag. the way he stretches you again even though youāre already so fucked out it hurts. your walls flutter around him uncontrollably, oversensitive, and he groans at itā deep, filthy.
āfuck,ā he hisses. āstill squeezinā me like that? after all that?ā
ātoo much,ā you whimper, pushing weakly at his chest, even as your hips betray you, rocking up into him. āi canātāā
āyou can,ā he cuts you off, already pulling out halfway just to slam back in. you sob.
āyou will.ā
your body jerks with it, your tits bouncing weakly with each thrust, your hands scrambling for something to hold onto. everything feels too intenseā too deep, too full, too good.
ās-sensitiveāā you gasp, nails digging into his arms.
āi know,ā he mutters, almost mean about it, dragging his cock against that spot again on purpose. āthatās the point.ā
you cry out, back arching hard, your whole body trembling as he starts fucking you againā slower than before, but somehow worse. deeper. more intentional. every thrust aimed to make you feel it, to drag it out of you.
āso fucked out already,ā he murmurs, grabbing your chin and forcing your head up so you have to meet his eyes. ācanāt even think anymore, huh?ā
you shake your head, tears slipping down your temples. ānoāā
āall that attitude gone,ā he continues, voice low, almost mocking, thumb brushing your lip. āall that mouth, and now youāre just- what?ā
you swallow, breath hitching. āyoursāā
his grip tightens.
āsay it again.ā
āyours,ā you sob, louder this time. āiām yoursāā
āyeah you are,ā he groans, pace picking up just a little, just enough to make your head spin again. āfuckinā made for me, arenāt you? takinā me like this, still begginā for moreāā
āiām notāā you try, voice breaking, but your hips roll into him again, chasing it, proving him right.
he laughs. low. mean.
āyeah,ā he breathes. āthatās what i thought.ā
his hand slides down between your bodies, fingers finding your clitā already swollen, oversensitive, aching.
you jolt hard.
ānono, please- sātoo muchāā
he circles it anyway.
slow.
you squeal.
your body spasms instantly, thighs clamping around him, back arching so hard it almost hurts. it hits you out of nowhereā another orgasm ripping through you before you can even process it, your cunt clenching down on him so tight he curses.
āfuuuckk,ā he groans, thrust stuttering. āthatās it, there it isāā
youāre sobbing now. full-on crying. your body shaking uncontrollably as he keeps moving, keeps rubbing, using you through it.
ācanāt take it- canātāā you gasp, voice dissolving into broken sounds.
āyou are takinā it,ā he says, not slowing down, not stopping, cock dragging in and out of your fluttering, oversensitive cunt while your body keeps spasming around him. ālook at you. still squeezinā me. still want it.ā
you donāt even know if thatās true anymore. you just know you canāt stop reacting, canāt stop feeling.
he shifts suddenlyā grabs your hips, flips you over like itās nothing.
you yelp, barely catching yourself before your face hits the couch.
āstay,ā he mutters, pressing you down, one hand between your shoulder blades, the other guiding himself back in.
you whine the second he pushes back insideā somehow deeper like this, your body folding around him differently, more exposed, more helpless.
āshit,ā he breathes, gripping your hips tight. āyeah. this is better.ā
and then he starts again.
hard.
faster this time.
your body jolts forward with every thrust, your cheek pressed into the cushions, your fingers clawing at the fabric as the sounds get louder, wet and messy.
ādaddyā!ā you cry, voice muffled, broken.
āthatās it,ā he groans behind you, hand sliding up your back, gripping your neckā not choking, just holding. controlling. āsay it louder.ā
he fucks you deeper with every word.
āwhoās pussy is this?ā
āyoursā!ā you sob.
āwho you doinā all that shit for, huh?ā he snaps, pace turning relentless again. āall that dressinā up, all that flirtināāā
āyouā! just youā!ā
ādamn right.ā
his hand slides down your back, grabs your ass, spreading you open again so he can watch himself disappear inside you, over and over, your cunt clinging to him like it doesnāt want to let go.
āfuckinā made a mess of you,ā he mutters, almost impressed. ācanāt even keep it in.ā
you canāt. itās leaking. every thrust pushes more of him out, slick and messy, your body too full, too used.
youāre gone. completely.
he leans over you, chest pressed to your back, mouth at your ear.
āone more,ā he murmurs, voice low, dangerous. āgimme one more.ā
you shake your head weakly. ācanātāā
āyes you can.ā
his hand finds your clit again.
you break.
your whole body locks up, a scream tearing out of you as another orgasm crashes through, sharper this time, almost painful in how intense it is, your cunt clenching so tight around him it drags him over the edge with you.
āfuckāā he groans, biting into your shoulder as he finishes again, hips stuttering hard against you, spilling deep, grinding into you as he rides it out.
you collapse under him completely.
he stays there for a second. breathing heavy. still inside you. still holding you down.
then, softer this timeā just a littleā
ātold you,ā he mutters against your skin. āyou could take it.ā
you donāt respond. you physically canāt.
youāre justā¦ gone.
and he sounds way too pleased about it.
you wake up sore. sore in ways you didnāt even know were possible. your thighs ache, your hips feel bruised, your legs do not work. your pussyās twitchingā puffy, overstimulated, and leaking. thereās cum literally dripping out of you, sticky between your thighs, cooling against the sheets.
and tojiās still there.
sprawled across your bed like he owns it, like youāre his bed now, arm heavy over your waist, breathing slow against the back of your neck. his chest rises and falls steady, the heat of his body sinking into yours. itās warm. safe. a little filthy. you can feel his cock pressed to your assā soft, but still there, like a threat.
youāre not sure if heās awake. youāre not sure if youāre awake. your whole body feels broken in. chewed up. worshipped. wrecked. you blink blearily at the sunlight slanting through your blinds, brain swimming in the slow syrup of morning-after haze, and shift slightly beneath the weight of him.
he moves with you. groans low, deep in his chest, like the stretch of his limbs aches. then, voice gravel-thick and sleep-rough:
āfuck. you made me pull a muscle.ā
you try to laugh, but it comes out cracked. āgood.ā
he snorts, lazy and fond, burying his face in your shoulder and muttering, ābrat.ā
you hum, cheek pressed into the pillow, toes curling under the sheets. you donāt move. donāt want to. his arm tightens around your waist just enough to remind you itās still there.
youāre quiet for a second. breathing in the moment. thenā soft, teasing, and only half joking:
āsoā¦ what are we now?ā
he goes still. just for a beat. long enough for your stomach to drop a little. you tense, suddenly hyperaware of how real this feels, how easy it would be to ruin it. your heart thumps like youāre asking him to raise a child. (which. maybe you are. unknowingly. oops.)
he exhales.
then, low. rough. certain.
āmine.ā
you short-circuit. go quiet.
he doesnāt say it again. doesnāt need to. just grabs your thigh, still sore, and drags you back against his chest like he thinks you might try to leaveā even though you physically canāt. you melt into the mattress with a broken little sigh, breath catching when his cock shifts against your ass, not quite hard, but heavy and possessive all the same.
you stay there. warm. stupidly happy. still full of his cum.
his fingers trail over your waist lazily, absent-minded, like heās petting you. like youāre his. like this is normal now. you close your eyes, let yourself float in it, wondering how the hell you went from faking ankle injuries to getting bred in your own hallway by the hottest dilf alive.
and when megumi knocks on the door half an hour later and yells, ādad, iām hungry,ā
toji groans like a man betrayed. buries his face in your neck, kisses your skin as if itās your fault he has responsibilities.
āyouāre makinā breakfast,ā he mutters.
you turn your head, blinking at him. āme?!ā
āyou want me to limp in there with my back blown out?ā
āā¦you blew my back out.ā
āexactly,ā he grins against your throat. āteamwork.ā
you roll your eyes. groan. try to wiggle away, but he doesnāt let you. just holds you tighter and mumbles something about five more minutes before letting you goā barely.
youāre smiling as you get up. your legs are still jelly. your thighs stick when you move. youāre sore and used and leaking, and youāve never felt so fucking good.
i rlly spent the whole night editing/finishing this osmgdkkdks, iām lowk experimenting and thought iād try smth different so i hope u guys like thissss >.<
pairing: aerion 'brightflame' targaryen x sister! reader
content: +18 | smut | targcest | hurting and vulnerable | dubcon | yandere | power imbalance | toxic relationship | slight angst | obsessive behavior | masturb. | you're the best sister.
summary: for the proud and cruel Aerion, you were always his insignificant sister, but you were always obsessed with him. You wanted him, dreamed of him, desired him.
a/n: Aerion's just a puppy, and we're here to make him sit hehe
į²š¼ . . . - main masterlist āā Ł«Ł« words count: 5,7K
Dawn in Aerionās chambers was pale, filtering through the narrow gaps in the heavy crimson curtains. Youād been there for hours, watching the slow ripple of the fabric with each breeze that came up from Summerhall.
The maesters had come and gone twice, fretting over your brotherās state, though they always offered the same careful words.Ā "Heāll mend, my lady. The bodyās strong. Just give it time."Ā But you scarcely heard them. Your eyes hadnāt left the bed since theyād brought him from Ashford, since youād watched your youngest brother, your Aerion, carried from the field of ash and blood where the Trial of Seven had left him.
Daeron had tried to take you away. Your twin, always so drunk he was near enough useless, but still your twin, still the only person in the world who shared your age, your birth, your blood.Ā "He'll be alright", Daeron had said, his hand heavy and clumsy on your shoulder.Ā "You need to rest".
You'd ignored him. Like you ignored everyone when it came to Aerion.
Now, with the sun already high, you were alone. The servants had been dismissed by your own hand. The maesters had left with a promise to return at nightfall. Even Daeron had given up, stumbling out with a mutter about finding something to drink.
And you were there, watching.
Aerion slept. His face, even bruised, even too pale, was still the most beautiful you'd ever seen. The short silver hair, still dirty with strands of dried blood and sweat, but lovely nonetheless. His chest rose and fell slowly, rhythmically, and that movement was proof he was alive, proof the gods had chosen to spare him.
You rose from the chair where you'd spent the night and day, legs numb, body tired, though the tiredness mattered little. Nothing mattered but your Aerion.
Your bare feet made little sound on the stone floor as you approached the bed. Your hand reached out before you could think, fingers touching his silver hair.
"Always so far away," you thought. "But always so close."
Aerion had always been like that, distant, treating you with the same courteous indifference he showed everyone else. You were just the sister two years older, the twin sister of the useless drunk, the princess who arranged banquets and smiled at lords and never, ever caused trouble.
You were boring to him. You knew that.
Though you also knew you weren't boring, not like he thought you were, not like he thought he knew you. There was something hot in you, intense and obsessive that no one saw because you hid your desire to devour and be devoured so well. Hid it all so well behind polite smiles, carefully pleasing words, and the perfect posture of a dragon-blooded princess.
Hid it because Aerion never really looked at you, but now he was here. Vulnerable, defenceless, and for the first time in his life, he couldn't turn away from you and couldn't ignore you.
You sat on the bed, slow and careful. The mattress dipped under your weight, and you held your breath, waiting for him to wake, but he didn't.
So you did something you'd never done before. Something you'd imagined in secret, in the darkest hours of the night, when the castle slept and you could think of things you shouldn't think.
You lay down beside him.
Moving slowly, sliding into the empty space on the bed, pressing your body against his, feeling the skin of his bare chest, wounded, against your skin that the crimson dress barely covered. Your heart beat so hard you were certain he could hear it, even unconscious.
Your arm went over him, your hand finding his silver hair again, fingers sliding gently, stroking. You felt the warmth of his body against yours, his breath against your neck, and a fire you'd fed for years but never let burn openly stirred.
The strands of hair were soft between your fingers, softer than you'd imagined. You stroked slowly, repeating the motion, hypnotised by the softness, by how his face seemed calmer in sleep.
Then his eyes opened.
You stilled the caress. Aerion's eyes ā purple like amethysts, hazy with pain and sleep ā found yours. There was a moment of confusion, and then his voice came out, rough and weak:
"What do you think you're doing?"
Your heart stopped. Your whole body screamed at you to get up, run, make up an excuse: you were checking his fever, you were fixing his pillows, you were...
But you didn't move, and instead, you tilted your head, a soft smile ā sweet, seductive ā curving your lips. The same expression you wore at banquets, in hallways, when you needed something.
"Looking after you," you murmured.
Before he could answer ā before any word could drive you from the room ā you leaned in and pressed your lips to his neck.
His skin was warm, alive. You felt his pulse quicken under your mouth and something primal, something triumphant, roared inside you. Your lips moved slowly, kissing, sucking gently, marking him, claiming him in the only way you could.
His hand ā the one not bandaged ā lifted, weak, and came to rest on your shoulder. For a moment you thought he'd push you away, but his fingers just gripped, holding, allowing.
You smiled against his skin.
Your left hand kept stroking his hair, soft, comforting. Your right, though, began to slide lower, over his chest, over his stomach, feeling every tense muscle beneath the covers. He shuddered when your fingers found the waistband of his smallclothes, when they started to slideĀ inside.
"You-" his voice faltered, a sound caught between shock and something else. Something you'd never heard from him.
"Shhh," you whispered against the curve of his shoulder. "Let me take care of you, Aerion."
Your hand found what it was looking for.
The breath caught in his lungs was as satisfying as any word.Ā More.Ā You moved your hand slowly, with a skill that surprised even yourself, years of imagining, years of wanting, and nowĀ finally. Finally you could touch, could feel, could have.
He was already responding, his body betraying what his mind might still be processing. You squeezed a little tighter, the movement rhythmic, and the sound he let out ā a low, lost,Ā needyĀ groan ā was the sweetest thing you'd ever heard.
Your mouth found his jaw, kissing, nibbling.
"Always wanted this," you murmured, the words slipping out before you could stop them. "Always wantedĀ you. You never looked at me, Aerion. Never saw."
His hand on your shoulder tightened. His eyes ā Gods, his eyes ā were wide, dark, fixed on you as if he were seeing you for the first time. As if something had shifted, something hadĀ clickedĀ into place.
You kept going, the movement steady, rhythmic, and then, with a courage only desire could give, you took his free hand and guided itĀ down. To the heat between your legs, to the dress you'd worn since the night before, to the proof of what you felt.
"Feel..." you whispered. "Feel what you do to me."
His fingers ā trembling, weak, butĀ there ā touched you through the fabric. And you moaned softly, the sound lost against his shoulder, as you kept moving your hand.
The room was silent, save for the heavy breathing of you both. Save for the small sounds escaping him. Sounds you'd keep forever, that you'd replay in your mind on lonely nights.
The silence in his chamber seemed to pulse with something that had always been there, latent, waiting to break through the indifferent surfaces you both maintained. Aerion stared at you as if you were a fever dream brought on by the pain and infections the maesters so feared, but you were real. Your hand around his cock was real. The heat of your cunt radiating to his fingers was utterly real.
"You shouldn't beā¦ here," he managed, but his hand didn't leave where you'd placed it. If anything, his fingers pressed, trying to explore beneath the fabric.
"No?" you laughed softly, a velvety sound against the skin of his shoulder. "Lying beside my brother while he slept, imagining this for years, that only ever happened in my dreams." You emphasised the words with a firmer, deliberate squeeze, and watched, satisfied, at the tremor that ran through his body. "This is everything I've ever wantedā¦ and what you wanted too, you just didn't know it yet."
Aerion's free hand ā the bandaged, immobilised one ā was the only part of him that still resisted. His good fingers, though, began moving with more intention, trying to find the hem of your dress, trying to reach the skin you offered.
You helped him. With a languid movement, you shifted, guiding his hand beneath the fabric, to the damp, soft heat between your thighs. The gasp he let out when his fingers found your cunt was nearly as loud as the moan you gave when one of them slid inside.
"Slowly," you murmured, but it wasn't a request. It was an instruction. You kept moving your hand around his cock, in a slow, torturous rhythm that matched the hesitant exploration of his fingers inside you. "You're weak. Let me take care of everything."
His purple eyes, though hazy with pain and burgeoning desire, studied you. A question lived there. "Why youā¦ why now?"
"Because you nearly died," you answered.
You stopped kissing his shoulder to look at him closely, your face inches from his. Your warm breath mingled with his.
"Because I spent the whole night imagining you cold, imagining you broken, imagining you dead in the fields of Ashford. And I realised I couldn't bear it. That I'd rather have you like this, wounded, confused, mine, than not have you at all."
Your hand quickened its pace, a little firmer, a little faster, and Aerion's body arched slightly, a hoarse groan escaping his parted lips. He was losing control, you could see. His body, even wounded, responded to you with an urgency his mind was still trying to process.
His fingers, inside you, grew bolder, more rhythmic, perhaps instinctively. He touched you as if learning a map, and you moaned softly, whispered approvals against his lips.
"There," you encouraged him. "Feel how wet I get just thinking about you?"
The curse Aerion muttered was muffled when you took your brother's lips in a kiss. It wasn't sweet or sisterly. Your tongue invaded his mouth with a hunger years contained, tasting him, mingling with both your ragged breaths. You bit his lower lip as you pulled back, tugging it with your teeth.
"You're enjoying this," you stated, not asked. "Seeing me like this. Feeling me like this. All yours."
His hand gripped your hip, pulling you closer, a gesture of frustration and desire. He wanted more, but his body wouldn't obey as it should. You knew. And that was exactly what kept you so in control.
"Don't worry, my love," you whispered, the endearment dripping like poison. "I'll give you everything you need. I'll take care of you forever."
You moved, straddling his thigh, keeping your hand firm around him, but now rubbing the damp heat between your thighs against the skin of his leg. The friction was delicious, torturous for you both. Aerion's breathing grew more uneven, his half-lidded eyes fixed on where your bodies met, where your hand worked tirelessly.
"Look at me," you commanded, your voice sweet. He obeyed, finding your gaze. "You're mine, Aerion. My brother, my blood, mine. And I'm yours. Always have been. However you want me."
You quickened the rhythm, bringing him closer to the edge, while simultaneously rubbing against him, building your own climax. His fingers were buried in you, a desperate reflex, and you guided them ā faster, deeper.
"Come," you whispered against his mouth. "Come for me, Aerion. Now."
It was the combination of your voice, the grip of your hand, the sight of you moving atop him, that undid him. He moaned your name ā not "sister," not a title, but your name ā in a hoarse, broken sound, as pleasure took him. You kissed him again, swallowing his groans, feeling every spasm in your palm.
You didn't stop. You kept moving ā slow, drawing out the sensation for him ā while the friction of his thigh and the pressure of your own fingers pushed you toward the edge. You pulled away from the kiss only to bury your face in the curve of his neck, biting down on his skin to muffle your own sharp moan as the orgasm hit you, waves of heat coursing through your body.
For long minutes, only the sound of your ragged breathing filled the silent room. You lay still atop him, your hand still loosely wrapped around him, your face still buried in his neck.
Eventually, you rose onto your elbows, looking at him. His face was flushed, his eyes still dark and dazed. He looked dizzy, not just from his injuries, but from what had just happened.
"See how good it is?" you murmured, wiping the sweat from his brow with a gentle touch. "You'll never want another woman, brother. I'll make sure of it."
You cleaned your hand slowly, carefully, and then nestled against him again, your head resting on his shoulder, your fingers returning to stroke his silver hair.
He didn't speak. He just lay there, breathing hard, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, processing.
You smiled, satisfied, and closed your eyes.
You woke to the morning sun streaming through the windows and the bed empty, and you wondered when your brother had found the strength to get up, to leave without you noticing.
For a moment, panic gripped your chest and you looked to the side where he'd slept, to the floor, to make sure he hadn't fallen out of bed and was lying there dead, but then you heard his voice.
"You're going to marry me, sister."
You turned your head so fast your neck cracked.
Aerion was sitting in a chair by the hearth, his body still clearly sore, his bandaged chest visible beneath his open shirt. But his violet eyes were fixed on you with an intensity you'd never seen.
"What?" Your voice came out rough with sleep.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, gaze burning.
"You heard me. You're going to marry me."
You sat up in bed, your dishevelled hair falling over your shoulders, your dress crumpled.
"Aerion, our fatherā¦"
"I don't care."
The simplicity. TheĀ certainty.
He rose ā slowly, limping a little ā and crossed the room to you. Stopped in front of the bed, looking down at you, and for the first time in his life, he was trulyĀ seeingĀ you.
"Spent years thinking you were just another one," he said, grabbing your jaw firmly, squeezing, hurting you. And you wereā¦ liking it. "The good sister. The perfect princess. The dragon without scales." He shook his head. "But you're like me, aren't you? You're not good," he murmured, almost with admiration. "You'reĀ like me."
Your heart stopped.
"I spent my whole life looking for someone who understood," he continued, his thumb tracing your cheekbone. "Someone who burned the same way. And you wereĀ hereĀ the whole time."
His eyes darkened, he leaned in and kissed you.
It wasn't a soft kiss, it wasĀ claiming, the same thing you'd done hours before, but now he was awake, present,Ā participating. His hand gripped your hair, pulling, and you moaned against his mouth, your hands coming up to clutch his shirt.
When he pulled back, your eyes met ā purple meeting purple ā and Aerion smiled. It was a smile you'd never seen before. Something predatory. SomethingĀ pleased.
"You're going to be my wife," he said. "And I'm going to satisfy you until you regret this."
You should have been afraid. Should have pulled back, refused, called it madness. Instead, you smiled back ā the same sweet, seductive, inviting smile ā and pulled him back into bed.
"And you're going to find out I'm worse than you," you whispered against his lips, your hand finding its way again to the stiffness in his smallclothes. "But firstā¦ let me take care of you again."
And he let you.
In the weeks that followed, the corridors of Summerhall whispered.
"Prince Aerion's going to marry his own sister."
"They say he doesn't eat, doesn't sleep, doesn't talk of anything else."
"She's bewitched him."
"Or maybe they've always been like this."
You heard the whispers and smiled. Let them think what they wanted. Let them invent stories of spells, of madness, of corrupted dragon blood.
No one needed to know the truth.
No one needed to know that, in the silent nights, Aerion sought you with the same obsession you'd always felt for him. No one needed to know that he looked at you as if you were the only fire in a world of ashes. No one needed to know that, finally, after years of being invisible, you wereĀ seen.
More than seen.
You wereĀ wanted.
You wereĀ needed.
And when, on the night before the wedding, he pulled you into a dark corner of the library ā when his hands found your body with the urgency of someone who'd spent too long away ā you whispered in his ear the words you'd kept for years:
"Always yours, Aerion. Always."
And he answered with a smile that matched your own:
"And now you're mine forever, dearest sister."
And for the first time in your lives, you were both home.
Her room smelled of burnt-down candles and you were lying in bed, your fingers still trembling slightly, your breath short. The curtains were drawn ā always drawn ā and the darkness was an embrace, a confessional where no one could see what you did when you thought the world slept.
But you didn't sleep. You never slept without thinking of him first.
Your hand slid down again, because once was never enough, because the emptiness he left in you was a bottomless well. Your fingers found the heat, the dampness, and you closed your eyes, letting the image of him fill your mind.
Aerion.
Not the Aerion of the corridors, the one who passed you as if you were part of the furniture. Not the Aerion who laughed at Daeron's jokes and ignored your attempts at conversation, but the Aerion you imagined, the AerionĀ youĀ knew, in the darkest corners of your mind.
The Aerion who looked at you the way you'd always wanted to be looked at.
The Aerion who touched you.
Your fingers moved faster, and a low moan escaped your lips, muffled against the pillow, hidden like everything about you was hidden. You imagined his hands ā long, pale, elegant ā in place of yours. Imagined his mouth on your neck, biting, marking. Imagined him saying your name ā notĀ sister, notĀ princess, but yourĀ name ā in a tone you'd never heard.
You imagined him wanting you back.
The climax came fast ā always came fast when it was him ā and you bit the pillow to keep from crying out, your body arching, your legs trembling. Afterwards, you lay there, breathless, your heart beating so hard it hurt.
Wedding night had come, and the ceremony had been small ā intimate, the servants had called it ā held in the private chapels of Summerhall with only a few required witnesses. The king had agreed with a weariness that bordered on indifference. Maekar Targaryen, tired of wars and losses, hadnāt the strength to oppose anything else. And Daeron... Daeron had shown up drunk, as always, but this time with a crooked smile you couldnāt quite read.
None of it mattered. What mattered was now.
You were in the chambers that would be yours ā theirs ā from that night on. The wedding gown, heavy red and black brocade, had been removed by maids who barely dared to breathe near you. Now you wore only a thin shift, silver silk that slid over your skin like water, and you waited.
The door opened without warning.
Aerion stepped in and closed it behind him with a click. He still moved carefully ā the wounds from Ashford hadnāt fully healed, though the maesters assured heād survive without lasting scars. But his eyes... his eyes showed no weakness at all.
They showedĀ hunger.
"So," he said, his voice low and measured. "We're married."
You tilted your head, a slow smile curving your lips. "We are."
He crossed the room slowly, like a predator testing its prey's limits. When he stopped before you, so close you could feel the heat of his body through the thin silk, he raised a hand and touched your face.
The touch was surprisingly gentle, his fingers tracing your cheekbone, down your jaw, stopping at your chin. But his eyes... his eyes weren't gentle. They were dark, intense, burning with something that made your stomach clench with want.
"You did it," he murmured. "Made me drag myself to the altar. Made me beg our father. Made me want something I didn't want."
"You begged?" you teased, your voice sweet as poisoned honey. "Don't remember hearing that."
His hand tightened on your chin, firm enough to make you catch your breath.
"Don't play with me now," he warned, but the tone wasn't threatening. It was... needy. "Spent weeks thinking about what you did. What you said. The way you touched me when I couldn't fight back."
"You liked it."
"Yes."
His honesty stole your breath. Aerion never admitted anything. Aerion never surrendered. But there, in the dimness of the wedding chamber, he was looking at you like you were the only truth he believed in.
"Liked it more than I should have," he continued, his thumb tracing your lower lip. "Liked not being able to do anything but feel. Liked waking up and finding out you were the one I'd be fucking every night of my life."
Your lips curved beneath his touch.
"And that means...?"
"You're mine."
The claim came with a kiss, hard, possessive, devouring. His mouth took yours without ceremony, without gentleness, and you answered with the same intensity, your hands rising to grip his hair, pulling, demanding.
When he pulled back, you were both breathless.
"But you still haven't begged," you reminded him, your voice rough.
Aerion laughed, a surprising sound that vibrated against your skin.
"You want to see me on my knees?"
"I want to see you need me," you corrected, your hands sliding to undo his shirt. "I want to see you lose control. I want to see you crawl."
His eyes darkened further.
"Married the wrong woman," he murmured, but his hands were busyāone finding your hip, the other rising to tangle in your hair. "Should've married the version everyone else saw. At least she was safe."
"You don't want safe," you whispered against his lips. "You want this."
And you kissed him again, but slower this time, a kiss of control, of quiet domination. Your hands finished opening his shirt, sliding inside, feeling the heat of his skin, the bandages still covering parts of his torso.
He groaned against your mouth ā low, lost ā and you smiled.
"Take this off," he ordered against your lips, his hands finding the hem of your shift. "Want to see you."
You obeyed, but at your own paceāslow, torturous, deliberate. The silk rose up your thighs, your hips, your waist, and you watched his eyes follow every inch of revealed skin. When the shift finally fell to the floor, you stood naked before him, and the look on Aerion's face... Gods.
It was like he'd never seen a woman before.
"Look at you," he murmured, his voice rough. "Look what you hid from me."
"Didn't hide," you corrected, stepping forward, pressing your naked body against his half-clothed one. "You just never looked."
His hand found your back, pulling you closer, and the contact of skin against skin ā even with the bandages in the way ā was electric. You felt his cock hard against your thigh, felt his breath quicken, felt the control you'd so desired slipping through his fingers.
"I'm looking now," he promised, and his mouth descended to your neck ā biting, sucking, marking ā exactly as you'd always imagined.
You moaned, your head falling back, offering more skin. His hands explored your back, your hips, your arse, squeezing, stroking, learning every curve like it was a map to treasure.
"Aerion..."
"My name," he murmured against your skin. "Like hearing you say my name, sister."
"Then make me say it more."
He laughed again ā that rare and precious sound ā and suddenly you were moving, stumbling toward the bed, bodies pressed together, mouths finding mouths, hands finding skin. He laid you down on the sheets, his body covering yours, and for a moment you just looked at each other.
Fire meeting fire.
"You're mine," he said, and it wasn't a question.
"Always was," you answered. "Now prove you're mine too."
His eyes burned.
He went down ā literally ā crawling down your body, his mouth tracing a path of fire from your neck to your breasts, where he paused to taste, lick, bite. Your fingers buried in his hair, pulling, guiding, while moans escaped your lips without control.
"More," you demanded. "Aerion, more."
He obeyed.
His mouth kept moving lower ā stomach, hips, thighs ā and when he finally reached where you needed him most, you held your breath. He looked up at you for a moment, dark eyes fixed on yours, his mouth inches from your centre.
"You wanted me to beg," he reminded you. "But who's begging now, sweet sister?"
"Aerion..."
He licked.
The moan you let out was too loud, too desperate, and you didn't care. His tongue found your clit with a precision that suggested he'd spent nights imagining this too, and when he started moving; you lost all capacity for thought.
"Like this?" he murmured against you, the vibration of his voice sending waves of pleasure through your body. "Is this how you want it?"
"Yes... Gods, yes!"
"Beg"
You arched your hips against his mouth, but he held you steady, pinning you in place.
"Beg," he repeated. "I want to hear."
"Aerion, please!..."
"Please, what?"
"Please don't stop."
He smiled against you ā you felt it ā and obeyed.
His tongue worked tirelessly, alternating between long, slow strokes and quicker, more precise movements that made your vision blur. His fingers found your entrance, sliding inside ā one, then two ā and the moan you released was almost a sob.
"Look at me," he commanded, and you obeyed, forcing your eyes open to meet his. "I want you to see who's making you feel this."
"You," you moaned. "Always you. Always."
He quickened the rhythm ā his mouth, his fingers, everything ā and you felt the orgasm building like a wave, growing, pressing, demanding.
"Aer... Aerion, I'm going to..."
"Come," he whispered against you. "Come for me. I want to feel it."
And you did; a muffled cry against your own arm, your body arching, your legs trembling, while he kept going, prolonging it, drawing out every spasm of pleasure until you couldn't take any more.
When you finally stopped shaking, he crawled up your body, his face wet, his eyes gleaming with something like pure triumph.
"Now," he murmured against your lips. "Now you're mine."
You laughed and pulled him into a kiss. The taste of yourself on his lips was strangely intimate, and you loved it.
"Not yet," you said against his mouth. "You're still missing."
He raised an eyebrow. "You think I don't want to?"
"I know you do." Your hand slid between your bodies, finding his cock, hard, pulsing, ready. "But I want to watch you lose control. I want to watch you beg."
His eyes darkened.
"I married the demon."
"You married yours."
He laughed ā that rare laugh ā and suddenly you were moving again, him on his back, you straddling him, his body beneath yours. The bandages still covered part of his chest, a reminder that he was still vulnerable, still healing.
But his eyes... his eyes showed no weakness. They showed devotion.
"Then take," he said, his voice rough. "Take what's yours."
You leaned down, kissing him slowly ā a kiss of promise, of possession ā while your hand guided his cock to your entrance. When you sank down, when he filled you completely, you both moaned in unison.
"Gods," he murmured against your lips. "You're so... so tight... so warm..."
You started to move watching the expression on his face. His half-lidded eyes, his parted lips, his fingers buried in your hips with a strength that would surely leave marks.
"Like this?" you teased, echoing the tone he'd used with you. "Is this how you want it?"
"Faster," he demanded. "Faster."
"Beg."
His eyes burned.
"Please."
The word surprised him as much as it did you. You saw it in his eyes, the shock, the shame, and beneath it all, the desire to surrender.
You smiled and quickened the pace.
The room filled with the sounds you'd always imagined ā his moans, yours, the sound of bodies meeting, the hiss of ragged breath. You rode him with a hunger years in the making, each movement bringing you both closer to the edge.
"Look at me," you commanded, echoing his words. "I want you to see who's making you feel this."
He obeyed and what you saw in his eyes made your heart stop.
It wasn't just desire.
It wasn't just lust.
It was need.
"You," he murmured, his voice breaking. "Always will be you."
The orgasm hit you both at once, a collapse, a surrender, a fire that consumed everything. You heard him cry your name, heard your own voice raw and screaming his, and for a moment there was nothing else beyond it.
Beyond them.
Afterwards, when their bodies finally stopped trembling, you collapsed onto him, your head resting on his chest ā carefully, avoiding his wounds ā and felt his heart beating against his ribs.
"Still alive," you murmured.
"Still," he confirmed, his hand finding your hair, stroking with a gentleness that contradicted everything that had just happened. "And you?"
"More alive than ever."
The silence that followed was filled only by their ragged breathing, by the distant sputter of candles, and by the warm pulse of blood still racing through their veins. You felt his heart against your cheek, and the hand stroking your hair was such a cruel contrast to the violence of what they'd shared that it almost hurt.
It was then that you felt his lips brush the top of your head, a kiss so light it might have been accidental.
"If you ever try to leave," he murmured, his low voice tinged with a sweetness that made the threat all the more terrifying, "I'll burn every ship in King's Landing. I'll lock you in the highest tower of Summerhall, and I'll tear out the tongue of anyone who dares look at you."
His fingers tightened slightly on your scalp, a possessiveness you knew all too well.
"You'll be mine until our flesh rots and our bones turn to dust."
You lifted your head slowly, meeting the violet eyes that stared back at you with an adoration so twisted, so complete, that any sane person would have recoiled. Instead, a slow, satisfied smile, as corrupt as his own, curved your lips.
You leaned in, pressing your mouth to his in a kiss, and when you drew back, it was to whisper in return.
"And I'll love every second, brother. I'll love watching you hate yourself for loving me so much, and I'll love loving you back with the same madness. You're mine, Aerion. And I'm your worst curse."
The smile he returned was a mirror of your own, and as he pulled you closer, they both knew this wasn't about love, nor about sanity. It was about possession. It was about blood. It was about two equally warped hearts beating in unison in the darkness, knowing that the hell they'd built was, for them, the only home possible.
warning: +18 | smut | targcest (both characters share valyrian features + targaryen surname) | p in v | rough sex | riding | power imbalance | breeding kink | slight angst | obsessive behavior | kneeling/begging | dubcon | he wants you to tame the dragon.
summary: you're waiting to leave for Dorne for an arranged marriage. Your cruel and possessive brother, Aerion, refuses to let you go. A confrontation in the Small Council chamber leads to one final, brutal night of passion between siblings who burn too brightly together.
author's note: I thought of this plot while listening to Melanie Martinez's 'Possession' and Luvcat's 'He's My Man', and nothing could define a relationship with him better than these songs.
į²š¼ . . . - main masterlist āā Ł«Ł« words count: 11K
The afternoon spilled over the Red Keep atop Aegon's Hill as you adjusted your stance, planting your feet firmly on the ground, your wooden sword rising into a guard position before your younger brother.
"No, Egg. Not like that." Your voice was patient, though you'd already corrected that movement a dozen times. "Your wrist is still limp. The enemy'll disarm you before you know it."
Aegon, all of ten years old, furrowed his brow as he tightened his fingers around the practice sword's hilt. His dishevelled hair fell over blue eyes.
"But I'm trying, sister." He swung a clumsy blow toward you, which you deflected with an almost lazy movement. "You're much taller than me."
You laughed, a sweet sound that echoed softly among the courtyard's colonnades. Your dress billowed with the movement, the deep neckline revealing more skin than would've been proper for sword practice, but there was no one there to see, only Egg. And Egg didn't care about such things.
"Height's no excuse, little one." You lowered your sword and tucked a strand of your brother's hair back with an affectionate gesture. "I was smaller than you when I started training. Remember what Ser Roland Crakehall always says?"
Aegon sighed, repeating wearily: "'The sword's an extension of the arm, and the arm's an extension of the will.'" He looked up at you, a shy smile forming on his lips. "You're better than Ser Roland, sister. He only shouts."
"He shouts because he knows you can do more." You ruffled his hair, ignoring his indignant protest. "Come on, one more time. Show me what you've learned."
As Egg took his stance again, his small body tense with concentration, he remarked: "I heard Father talking today. In the Small Council."
Your eyebrow arched, but you kept your guard position.
"Oh? And what did the little rat hear?"
"I'm not a rat." Egg huffed, but curiosity won out over offence. "He was talking with Uncle Baelor about... about a lord from Dorne. With lots of lands. He said you're going to marry him."
Your heart lurched in your chest, not from surprise, exactly. You'd known your father, Prince Maekar, had been negotiating your future for months. Dorne was an important alliance, a territory that had always resisted the dragons, and another Targaryen married to one of its lords...
"And what else did Father say?" You dodged Egg's blow with a fluid movement, but your mind was no longer fully on the training.
"That the lands are rich, that it's sunny all year round, and there're fruits there we don't even have names for here." Egg lowered his sword. "You're not gonna leave me here with Aerion, are you? Promise?"
The smile that bloomed on your lips was genuine, that warmth only your youngest brothers could awaken. You knelt before him, bringing yourself to his height, and held his little face between your hands.
"I promise, Aegon. I'll show you every bit of those lands. We'll eat fruits you've never seen, walk under a sun that never sets, and you'll train with the finest Dornish warriors." You kissed his forehead. "But only if you promise to keep training. I don't want you embarrassing me there, alright?"
"Alright!" Egg agreed, grabbing his wooden sword again. "I'll be so good they'll think I'm a real knight!"
You laughed, rising and taking up your own sword.
"That's my little warrior. Now, show me that move again. This time with spirit, like I'm a Blackfyre traitor."
Egg laughed, and the sound was so pure, so childish, that for a moment you could forget the weight of the responsibilities you carried. Could forget the nights you woke with your body burning, with a man's name on your lips, with the sinful certainty that you desired something you ought to repudiate.
Could forget Aerion.
For a moment only, because then he appeared.
You felt his presence before you saw him, a tension settling in your shoulders, an uncomfortable heat starting in the centre of your chest and spreading. When you looked up at the stone steps leading to the courtyard, your heart stopped for an instant.
Aerion was there.
The same clothes as last night: the dark tunic partly open, the riding breeches, the dusty boots. His silver hair was more dishevelled than usual, and even from a distance you could see the flushed tone of his cheeks, the hazy brightness in his violet eyes.
Drunk. Or nearly.
He must have come straight from one of the Street of Silk's brothels, the ones he frequented regularly and about which your father preferred to feign ignorance. Last night, he'd been in your chamber, not to touch you, but to watch you while you bathed. He'd stood there, his eyes burning your naked skin while you, pretending not to notice, slowly washed every inch of your body.
And then he'd left, without a word, without a touch... as he always did.
"Look here." Aerion's voice echoed in the empty courtyard, slurred. "Our little princess playing at knights with the runt of the litter."
Egg stiffened beside you, his fingers gripping the wooden sword so tightly his knuckles went white. You placed a hand gently on his shoulder, a gesture for him to calm down.
"Aerion." Your voice came out controlled, polite. The older sister who knew how to handle everything. "Didn't know you'd returned to the Keep."
"Returned?" He descended the steps with slow, lazy strides. "Never left, dear sis. Just... occupied myself with matters more interesting than training children."
"Egg's learning." You positioned yourself slightly before your younger brother, a protective gesture that didn't escape Aerion's notice. "And he's a better student than you were at his age."
Aerion stopped a few paces away, and even half-drunk, even coming from a night full of whores, he was absurdly beautiful. The sunlight bathed his perfect features, his strong jaw, the lips you knew so well. Lips that had been on every part of your body.
"Oh, really?" He tilted his head, devouring you with his gaze. "Then show me. Show me what little Aegon's learned."
Before anyone could react, Aerion lunged forward and snatched the wooden sword from Egg's hands. The boy recoiled instinctively, his eyes wide, not with fear (Egg wasn't afraid of Aerion, only harboured a deep, ill-disguised hatred for him), but with surprise.
"Give it back!" Egg demanded, his voice thin but brave. "That sword's mine!"
"There." Aerion tossed the sword away, listening to the thud of wood against stone. "Not anymore. Go play elsewhere, little runt. I want to talk with your sister."
Egg didn't move immediately. He looked up at you, seeking guidance, and you felt your heart clench. The boy admired you, trusted you. And you were going to fail him now, because you couldn't tear your gaze from Aerion, couldn't think of anything but the way his open tunic revealed his collar, the start of his muscular chest, the line of his neck you loved to bite.
"It's alright, Egg." Your voice came out hoarser than you'd intended. "Go. I'll find you later."
The boy hesitated, his eyes moving between you and your brother as if he loathed the idea of leaving you alone, afraid of what Aerion might do to you. Then, without a word, he turned and left the courtyard, his small footsteps echoing until they disappeared.
You and Aerion were alone.
You waited to be sure Aegon wasn't nearby, and Aerion approached slowly, closing any distance between you. His smell reached your nostrils, something like wine, sweat, smoke, and more. Something you knew intimately... the smell of his voracious desire.
"So." He stopped before you, so close you could feel the heat emanating from his body. "You think you can teach our little runt to fight with a sword..."
His hand moved with the speed of a snake's strike, his fingers finding your dress's neckline and pulling. The fine fabric gave way slightly, exposing more of the already-revealed skin, and you caught your breath.
"...dressed in these clothes?"
His smile was cruel, but you felt the heat spread through your belly, felt your nipples harden beneath the fabric, felt your body betray any pretence of innocence you might still try to maintain.
"It's only a dress." Your voice came out steady, despite your racing heart. "And Aegon needs to learn."
"Aegon needs to learn?" Aerion repeated mockingly. His fingers were still at your neckline, slowly tracing the edge of the fabric, his fingertips grazing your skin. "And what else can you teach, dear sis? Besides holding swords, I mean."
You swallowed hard.
"Many things."
"Hmm." He leaned in, his lips so close to your ear you felt his warm breath. "Because, you see, with that dress..." His other hand found your waist, pulling you against him in a brusque movement. "...any man would think you're offering something more. Something one doesn't teach younger brothers."
"Aerion..."
"Keep quiet." He admonished. He pulled back slightly, his eyes roaming your body with a hunger that made your stomach drop. "You know what I see when I look at you now?"
You shook your head, unable to speak.
"I see the tips of your breasts nearly popping out." His voice was meant only for the two of you. "Even in this ridiculous dress, I can see perfectly how hard they are. I bet if I touched..."
He didn't touch. He never touched when he provoked you like this, only watched, waiting for your reaction.
"...they'd be nice and firm between my fingers. Ready to be bitten." He smiled, slow and wicked. "But that's not why you're here, is it? You're here playing at being the responsible sister. The perfect daughter. The Dornish bride."
The mention of Dorne made something shift in your expression, and Aerion noticed immediately. His smile widened.
"Ah, so you already know. Father didn't waste time." He circled you slowly, and you felt his eyes burning your back. "A Dornish lord. With many lands. You're going south, to the sun, away from here."
"Yes." The word came out louder than you'd intended. "I'm going to marry and have a life."
"A life." Aerion stopped behind you, so close you felt his back almost touching yours. "Away from me."
Again there was silence; you could feel his hot breath on your neck, on your nape, sending a shiver through you that made you reprimand yourself.
Then he moved.
His hand slid down your body, squeezing your breasts through the fabric, reckless and senseless, anyone could see. He squeezed hard enough to wrench a gasp from you that made him withdraw his hands and go for the wooden sword in your grip; before you could react, Aerion disarmed you with a brusque movement, and suddenly you were fighting, not really, but like the games you'd known since childhood.
He struck your ribs with the palm of his hand, and you let out a surprised squeak. You tried to dodge, but he was faster, stronger, and his proximity muddled your senses.
"Come on, little princess." His voice was a sing-song provocation. "Show me what you teach our brother. Show me how you fight."
He struck your shoulder, and you staggered sideways, a laugh escaping your lips despite everything. It was absurd. It was wrong. It was exactly what you wanted.
"You're drunk, Aerion." You managed to dodge his next blow, surprising him. "And you're cheating."
"Am I?" He feigned innocence, but he was relishing the sadistic fun. "I think you're just getting slow. Too worried about Dornishmen and marriages."
He struck your leg, and you nearly fell, balancing yourself at the last moment. The dress swirled with the movement, and you saw his gaze darken as more skin was revealed.
"Stop it." You laughed, breathless. "I'll end up hurt."
"Hurt?" He advanced again, and this time you couldn't dodge. His body collided with yours, and his hands grabbed your arms, immobilising you. "You don't even know what hurt is."
You remained like that for a moment, panting, pressed together. His body was hard against yours, and you felt... felt exactly what you shouldn't. Felt the proof of his desire pressing against your belly.
Then he turned you around.
It was quick, rough. Suddenly you were with your back to him, your back pressed against his chest, and his hand was on your neck. Not squeezing ā not the way you liked ā just holding, just reminding you who was in charge.
"You're trembling." He whispered in your ear, hoarse, low. "Trembling like you do when I'm inside you."
"Aerion..." Your name on his lips came out as a sigh. "You know we should've stopped by now."
"Remember how you moaned?" His lips brushed your ear, and you felt his teeth lightly nip your lobe. "How you begged for more? How you pleaded?"
The hand on your neck tightened slightly, just enough to make your breath catch.
"You're going to marry a Dornishman." The word was spat out, as if you weren't also Dornish. "You'll lie down for him, open your legs for him, let him..."
"And you'll be nothing but a lover."
"...touch what's mine." He finished, ignoring your attempt to interrupt. "Because it's mine, isn't it? Always has been. Since the first night, little sis."
You felt the truth of every uttered word burning in your chest, because since the first night, the one he touched you during dinner, the one he'd entered your chamber, the one he'd kissed you with terrifying and pleasurable hunger, the night he'd deflowered you before Balerion's skull and made you scream his name.
Every night since then ā when he called you to his room, when he sucked you until you forgot your own name, when he rode you as if he were a dragon and you his rider ā you'd never been able to forget what happened.
"You might not admit it, but you'll miss me, sister. If not me, then how I'm the only one who makes you feel like you're riding a dragon." He grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him. "You won't feel that with anyone else."
"And neither will you." You freed yourself from his grip, bringing your lips close. "I hope you wither away looking for a dragon like me."
He grabbed you by the throat, and you saw a sadistic smile, the same smile that appeared when you had rough sex in hidden corners during feasts.
Aerion pressed his body against yours, and you saw the burning desire, the obsession to see you beg and crawl for him. You held his hand, trying to loosen his grip.
Then a voice echoed toward you both.
"Aerion."
You separated brusquely, like when Egg was caught handling Prince Baelor's sword. You turned, bringing your hand to your neck, catching your breath, and saw your father standing at the courtyard entrance, his severe expression ā the one you knew so well ā hiding whatever emotion he might be feeling.
Maekar was a man of few words and much weight in each one. His gaze moved from you to Aerion, and you saw the weariness in his eyes, something that looked like disappointment. As if he'd already expected this.
"Father." Aerion spoke first, his voice dangerously casual. "Didn't hear you arrive."
"Clearly." Maekar entered the courtyard. He stopped a few paces away, his violet eyes (the same as all his children, except Egg's) fixed on Aerion. "I need to speak with you. And with your sister."
Aerion arched an eyebrow.
"About what?"
"About the future." Maekar shifted his gaze from his son to you. For a moment, he was just your father. The man who'd taught you to ride, who'd held you when your mother died, who'd always trusted you to care for your younger siblings. "But first, Aerion, you may withdraw. I'll speak with you later."
For an instant, you saw the fire in Aerion's gaze, the one that led him to do terrible things, things that shocked even the court. But he only smiled, that false, polite smile he used when he wanted to hide what he truly felt.
"As you wish, Father." He bowed in a mocking reverence, and before leaving, his eyes met yours for a moment.
Just a moment, but it was enough for you to feel the heat return, to remember the sensation of his hand on your neck, his body against yours.
Then he left, and you were alone with your father.
Maekar watched you with that expression you knew so well, the same one he wore when he needed to say something difficult, something that might hurt you.
"Come." He extended his hand, and you took it, allowing him to guide you to a nearby stone bench. You sat side by side, and for a moment he just held your hand in his, as he did when you were small. "Are you alright?"
The question was simple, but you knew what he was really asking: Did he hurt you? Did he touch you in ways he shouldn't? Do you need me to intervene?
"I'm fine, Father." You squeezed his hand. "We were just... playing. Like when we were children."
Maekar sighed, a deep, weary sound.
"You're not a child anymore. And your brother isn't either." He turned his face to look at you. "I see what you do, I have eyes and ears throughout this keep, and I see the way you..." He hesitated. "The way you respond."
Heat rose to your cheeks, but you didn't look away. You wouldn't lie to him. You couldn't.
"I know what you're thinking." Your voice came out low but firm. "And I know... I know I shouldn't. But..."
"But it is what it is." Maekar finished for you. "I understand more than you imagine. When I was young, I also..." He shook his head, dismissing the memory. "It doesn't matter. What matters is that you're going to marry, my daughter. You're going to Dorne, you're going to build a life away from here. Away from your brother."
The mention of marriage made something tighten in your chest, but you kept your expression calm.
"I know, Father, and I'm content with that just be certain you've chosen well?"
"I chose the best I could find one your mother knew well." Maekar smiled, and it was a genuine smile, full of love. "A lord of rich lands, with influence throughout the region. He's older, but respectful. He'll treat you well."
"Older?" You arched an eyebrow. "How much older?"
"Old enough to be wise. Young enough to give you as many children as you want." Maekar squeezed your hand. "You deserve a good life, with a man who respects you. Not..." He hesitated again. "Not what Aerion could offer."
You understood what he didn't say. Not what Aerion would offer, because Aerion offered nothing but nights of pleasure, broken promises, and bastards.
"He'll go to Lys." Maekar continued. "He'll spend some time there, to become a better man." The word was spoken with disgust. "If he wants to make bastards, let him do it far from here. Maybe he'll even prefer to stay there."
"I don't think Lys will make him a better man, it's a place full of people like us." You replied, fearing Aerion might find someone to replace you, someone who'd make him forget what you'd had.
Maekar looked at you for a long moment, and his answer was too honest to be comforting.
"I don't know, my daughter." He sighed. "You look so much like your mother... in every way that matters. The same kindness, the same strength, the same ability to see the best in people." He stroked your face with his free hand. "But Aerion... I don't know who he takes after. My father was hard, but not cruel. My brother has his flaws, but this... this contempt, this recklessness. Sometimes I look at him and wonder if I failed in something. If I could have done differently."
"Father."
"No, no." He interrupted gently. "I don't want you to worry about that. I want you to think about your future. About Dorne, your marriage, the life you'll build." He pulled you into a hug, and you let yourself sink into the warmth of his chest, the familiar smell. "You deserve to be happy, my daughter. You deserve someone who loves you as you deserve."
You closed your eyes and let the tears burn, but not fall. You thought of Aerion, his hands on your body. You thought of what your father said, that you deserved to be loved as you deserved.
The problem was, you weren't sure you wanted to be loved the right way.
That night, you didn't go down to dinner with your siblings.
Not that they weren't good company, after all, your favourite part was sitting between Aemon and Aegon, talking with them about what they loved most. Daeron, as drunk as he might be, tried to attend (and he said it was to keep you company); Aerion always sat across from you and pretended you didn't exist; and your sisters, they'd gone to Summerhall because your father feared they'd become as attached to Aerion as you were.
You stayed shut in your chamber the whole time, and your bath had been long because it was your favourite part, it was when you felt you could think more clearly, with the hot water, the scented herbs, and the maids' hands rubbing your skin as if they could clean something more than sweat and tension. But they couldn't.
Before the mirror, you admired your reflection, touching the points you liked most about yourself, running your hand down your skin and pushing away the thoughts that always led you back to Aerion. The nightgown you wore was... promiscuous. There was no other word. It was a gift from Aerion from two years ago, bought on one of his excursions through the city's less savoury districts. Fabric so fine it was nearly transparent, cut to reveal more than it hid, breasts partly exposed, nipples visible through the cloth, entire legs suggested by the side slit running from hip to ankle.
You thought about how your future husband would reactāif he'd only pay attention to your Valyrian features and you'd be nothing more than a Targaryen he'd conquered; or if he'd first see your breasts and bury himself in them and your arse and only afterwards ask what you liked. Or if he'd be like Aerion see you as a whole, as something he didn't want to lose.
The knock at the door interrupted you, but it was soft. You knew who it was before you even allowed entry.
"Come in, Morwen."
The door opened, revealing the septa your father had assigned you years ago. Morwen was a young woman, her face full of freckles and eyes resembling those of your cousin Valarr. She wore the usual traditional grey gown, and tonight was no different.
Her eyes widened when she saw you.
"By the Seven..." She quickly closed the door, as if she could prevent anyone else from seeing. "My princess, what is that?"
You smiled, and there was something provocative in the gesture.
"It's a nightgown, Morwen. For sleeping."
"Sleeping?" Morwen approached, her eyes roaming over the transparent fabric. "My princess, that's not sleeping clothes. That's... that's what the women in Flea Bottom wear waiting for sailors."
"It's just thin cloth for sleeping." You laughed, a low, sweet sound. "Nothing wrong with it."
"Nothing wrong?" The septa shook her head, but couldn't look away. "My princess, if your father saw you like this..."
"My father won't see." You moved from the mirror and sat on the bed, legs crossed, the nightgown opening further with the movement. "He's too busy planning my marriage to a man I've never met."
Morwen sighed, approaching the bed.
"He only wants what's best for you, my princess. We all do."
"I know." You tilted your head, watching the septa. "And you? What do you want for me?"
The blush that rose to the septa's cheeks was visible even in the candles' dim light.
"My princess..."
"You can leave if you want." Your voice was soft, silky. "But if you want to stay... I have a book here. New prayers I'd like to learn. We could pray together."
The invitation was clear to anyone who knew the code you'd both built over the years. The "prayers" Morwen had been teaching you on lonely nights, the "scripture studies" that involved much more than holy words. It had been Morwen who'd taught you early on what to do on your first time with Aerion.
The septa hesitated.
"I..." She swallowed hard. "Tonight I can't."
You arched an eyebrow.
"You can't?"
"I have obligations." Morwen looked away. "The elder septa needs me for the night prayers. It's an honour that's been granted to me, I can't refuse."
"I understand." You didn't believe it for a moment, but you didn't press either. "I'll pray alone tonight."
"My princess..." Morwen stepped forward, hesitant. "Prince Aerion..."
"What about my brother?"
"He's not..." Morwen searched for words. "He's not like others. What he wants from you... it's not pure. It's not good."
You nearly laughed. Pure. Good. As if you wanted purity or goodness. As if that was what woke you in the middle of the night with your body burning.
"I appreciate your concern." Your voice was polite. "But I can take care of myself and handle my brother."
Morwen looked at you for a long moment, as if Aerion truly were a dragon trying to devour you. Then she curtsied and left, closing the door behind her.
You remained motionless as you listened to her steps fading down the corridors, sighed with relief, and picked up a book from the bedside table, not the prayer book, but a Dornish romance your mother had loved to read. Stories of forbidden lovers, of passions that defied kings and gods.
But you tried to read... really tried. Only the words seemed to dance before your eyes, meaningless, you couldn't follow them, only because your thoughts were elsewhere in the courtyard, in Aerion's hands on your neck, in his voice whispering at your ear.
You closed the book with a thud.
The room suddenly felt too small. The walls were closing in, the air growing thin, and the bed where you sat seemed like an empty altar waiting for an offering. You rose before you could think about what you were doing.
Your bare feet found the cold stone floor, and the translucent nightgown floated around your body as you crossed the room. The door opened silently, and you found yourself in the torch-lit corridor, the silence broken only by the distant crackle of flames.
Your feet guided you through halls you'd known since childhood, up and down staircases you'd climbed thousands of times. The castle slept, or nearly did; there were guards at their posts and maids moving about. You knew how to avoid questions about why you were out of bed, how to keep whispers from reaching your father so he wouldn't ask at breakfast whether you'd gone to fetch Daeron from a ditch or visited Aerion in his chamber.
You halted your steps before the Small Council chamber door without knowing exactly why you were there, probably because the view was lovely and you could be alone.
Your heart beat so hard you could feel it in your throat, your temples, every part of your body. Your hand hesitated over the door for a moment too long ā long enough to think of all the reasons you should return to your room, to your book, to your empty bed. You stood motionless for a moment, listening to your own racing heart, feeling the nightgown's fine fabric brush your skin.
The door opened silently, and you entered.
The Small Council chamber was bathed in the silver light of the moon streaming through the high windows, transforming the long oak table, the dark chairs, the tapestries on the walls into something questionable. The torches had gone out hours ago, and papers were scattered about the place that belonged to your grandfather, he must have stayed late.
Though it was Aerion sitting in the king's chair.
The chair wasn't the Iron Throne, of course, that monster of swords stood in the throne room, but this was the king's seat on the council, the position of highest authority in this room, and Aerion occupied it as if born to do so. His dirty boots rested on the table, crossed with indolence. One hand held a wine cup, the other rested on the chair's arm as if caressing a lover. He no longer wore last night's tunic. He wore something dark, simple, his shirt open at the chest. He'd certainly returned from another brothel.
His eyes were fixed on the window, on the view of King's Landing with its thousands of lights flickering in the darkness, lives he likely considered insignificant. He didn't turn even when you stumbled on the first steps of the entrance; after all, he didn't need to look, he knew you were there, just as you'd always known when he was near.
"Can't sleep either?"
You closed the door behind you.
"How did you know I'd be here?"
He finally turned his head, and that cruel smile was on his lipsāthe same as always.
"I didn't, but we keep finding each other, Sis."
The truth of those words hurt more than any insult he could've uttered. You always sought each other out. Since the first night, when he appeared in your chamber with that hungry expression and you didn't scream, didn't call for guards, did nothing but make space in the bed.
"You're drunk." You approached slowly, your bare feet on the cold stone. "More than this afternoon."
"I am." He agreed, raising his goblet in an empty toast. "And you're wearing that nightgown I bought."
His eyes roamed your body slowly, and you felt every inch of that gaze as if it were a touch. The fine fabric hid nothing, your partly exposed breasts, your hardened nipples which the cold night and his presence made impossible to disguise, your legs suggested by the side slit.
"The one you wear when you want me to come to your chamber." He finished, his voice slurred but his eyes on you. "The one you wore the night you let me fuck you against the wall. The one you wore when you begged me to suck you until you forgot your own name."
"Brother."
He laughed and finally took his feet off the table. The movement was lazy, feline, and when he stood, you felt the air shift in the room. He was tall ā taller than you ā and even drunk, even coming from a brothel, even with his crumpled clothes, he exuded a power that made your knees weak.
"Come here." It wasn't a request. It never was.
You obeyed.
Your feet carried you to him, stopping a few paces away. Close enough to smell him, wine, yes, but also something that made your stomach drop and heat spread through your belly. He watched you for a long moment, the goblet still in his hand. Then his eyes dropped again, roaming over the transparent fabric, the skin beneath, the way you trembled slightly without being able to control it.
"You look beautiful." The word came out like an insult. "Like one of the Street of Silk's whores. The expensive ones, of course. The ones lords pay fortunes to spend a night with."
The compliment disguised as humiliation made something burn in your chest.
"Why are you like this with me?"
"Like what?" He tilted his head, feigning innocence.
"Cruel." The word escaped before you could contain it. "Always so... cruel."
His smile widened, and suddenly he was closer. His free hand found your chin, holding it firmly enough to make you grunt.
"Because you like it." His voice was a whisper against your lips. "Because when I'm cruel, you tremble. When I'm cruel, you get wet. When I'm cruel, you come find me in the middle of the night for me to fuck you."
You wanted to deny it, wanted to say it wasn't true, that wasn't why, that there was something more, something deeper, something that...
"Don't lie to me." He squeezed your chin, and the pain was good, it was exactly what you needed. "I know you better than anyone. I know your body, your moans, the way you squeeze when you come. I know every sound you make, every expression, every lie you tell yourself."
The wine goblet was still in his hand, and you were so close you could feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric of your nightgown.
"You came here because you can't stay away from me." He continued, his eyes burning into yours. "Because no matter how hard you try to be the perfect daughter, the responsible sister... deep down you're just mine. Mine to use. Mine to fuck. Mine to humiliate."
"Aerion..."
"You think you can just show up here in this dress and I won't do anything? You think you can provoke me and then go back to your chamber to fuck your septa?"
The movement was so fast you didn't have time to react. The wine cup tipped, and the dark red liquid spilled over your chest, soaking through the thin shift in an instant. You caught your breath, the shock of cold wine against warm skin making your nipples harden even more. The fabric, already transparent, now clung to your body, revealing every curve, every shadow, every detail.
Aerion surveyed the damage with an expression of pure sadistic satisfaction.
"There." He set the empty cup on the table. "Now you can take it off for me."
"You're a monster."
"I am." He agreed, and suddenly his hands were on the wet fabric. "But so are youā¦ why don't you call me that when I'm fucking you?"
He tore it.
The sound of ripping fabric echoed in the chamber, and you felt the night's cold air kiss the skin that had been "covered" moments before. The shift parted from neckline to waist, your breasts completely exposed, nipples hard and pink in the moonlight. His hands found your waist, and suddenly you were being guided backwards, backwards, until your back met the stone wall near the window.
The cold of the stone against your hot skin made you gasp, but Aerion didn't give you time to adjust.
"Stay here." He ordered, stepping back.
You obeyed, pressed against the wall, your breasts exposed, wine slowly dripping down your skin, the torn shift hanging uselessly at your waist. The moon bathed your body, and you knew anyone looking through the windows could see ā not at this height, but the possibility existed, and that was what mattered.
Aerion watched you for a long moment, his eyes roaming every inch of your body with a hunger that made your belly clench.
"You're going to marry." He said finally, his voice low. "You'll lie down for a man you've never seen. You'll let him kiss you, bite your breasts, shove his cock inside you. And I'll be in Lys." He paused, approaching slowly. "Making bastards on whores who aren't you. Drinking wine that doesn't taste of you. Biting skin that doesn't tremble when I touch."
He stopped before you, so close you could feel his breath.
"But before thatā¦" His hand found your face, his thumb slowly tracing your lips. "Before that, you'll give me one last night, sister."
"Not that you deserve it," you shot back.
"Don't deserve it? I always gave you the privilege of riding a dragon, the only one you could." His thumb pressed, parting your lips, sliding inside. "I give you every moan, every climax, every tear, and you say I don't deserve it?"
You sucked his finger instinctively, and the smile that curved his lips was conquering.
"And when I'm done with youā¦" He removed his finger, replacing it with his lips, a brutal kiss with a painful bite. "ā¦you'll remember. Every night in Dorne, with your husband atop you. You'll close your eyes and you'll remember me."
His hand found your neck, squeezing slightly, and you moaned against his lips.
"And you'll come thinking of me. You'll have a child and you'll lament it isn't mine."
He kissed you again, and this time you responded with everything you had. Your hands found his hair, pulling, and the taste of wine and Aerion filled your mouth, and when he drew back, both of you were breathless.
"Turn." He ordered, his voice hoarse.
You obeyed, turning your back to him, your hands braced against the cold wall. The moon bathed your body, and you felt his eyes burning your skin, your back, your buttocks barely covered by the remnants of the shift.
"You see those lights?" His voice was near your ear now, and you felt his body against your back when he abruptly turned you. "All those people down there. If they looked up nowā¦ they'd see the Targaryen princess. Naked. Offered. Ready to be fucked by her own brother."
The moan that escaped your lips was ashamed and aroused in equal measure.
"You like that." It wasn't a question. "You like being seen. You like knowing they could see. You like being mine."
"Yes." The word came out before you could contain it. "After all, it's what I should have been if you'd had the courage to face our father."
"That'd be a waste, better I take you entirely for myself, sister."
His hand slid from your neck to your back, slowly tracing your spine until it reached your buttocks. His fingers squeezed the flesh, pulling you against him, and you felt the proof of his desire pressing against you.
"Show me how much you're mine."
The air escaped your lungs as his hands squeezed your buttocks hard enough to hurt, to mark. The pain bloomed under your skin and you arched your back instinctively, offering more of yourself against the cold wall.
"Not like this." His voice was near your ear, warm and cruel. "I want to see your face when I fuck you. I want to see you beg."
He turned you with a rough pull, and suddenly you were facing him, your back against the stone. His hand found your face, his fingers squeezing your cheeks, forcing your lips apart.
"You came here to provoke me." His thumb traced your lower lip, pressing. "Came to offer yourself like the whore you are. So behave like one, sister."
"Aerionā¦" His name on your lips came out as a moan.
"Quiet" He silenced you with his lips, but it was brutal, it was bite and teeth and tongue that took without asking permission. The taste of wine and Aerion filled your mouth while his free hand found your breast, squeezing hard enough to make you moan against his lips.
He bit your lower lip as he drew back, pulling, and the sharp pain made your body tremble.
"Look at you." He watched you with that hungry expression, his hand still squeezing your breast, his fingers finding your hard nipple and pinching cruelly. "All wet just because I pinched your breast. All wet and I haven't even touched where you really want me."
He pinched harder, and you moaned, your head thrown back, hitting the stone.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you." His hand left your breast and found your face again, forcing you to meet his eyes. "I want to see your eyes, I want to see you fall apart."
His fingers descended your body, slowly tracing the curve of your waist, your hip, until they found what remained of the shift. He tore the rest away with a sharp pull, and the fabric fell at your feet, leaving you completely naked.
For a moment, he just watched you. His eyes roamed every inch of your body, and you were exposed, vulnerable, completely at his mercy and this was exactly what you wanted.
"Beautiful." The word came out like an insult. "My perfect little sister like a dragon of Old Valyria, all naked for me. All wet for me." His hand slid between your legs, and his fingers found what they sought. "Wet. Hot."
He didn't enter, only touched, only teased, his fingers slowly sliding through your cunt, spreading the moisture, making you tremble.
"Pleaseā¦"
"Please, what?" He tilted his head. "You have to say it. You have to beg, little sister."
"Please, Aerionā¦ Anything, justā¦" Your voice came out trembling.
"Just what?"
"Just don't stop." You were nearly crying.
He smiled, that cruel smile you knew so well. Then his fingers finally entered. It was brutal. Two fingers at once into your cunt, no warning, no preparation beyond the wetness you already had. The pain made you cry out, but the pleasure came right behind it, a wave that started in your belly and spread through your whole body.
"That's right, I want all of King's Landing to hear."
His fingers moved inside you, finding that spot that made your legs weaken, that blurred your vision. His other hand was on your neck again, squeezing just enough to make your breathing short, to make each movement inside you intensified by the lack of air.
"You'll come like this." He said, his voice calm despite the brutal rhythm of his fingers. "You'll come on my fingers like the whore you are. And when you come, I'll turn you and I'll fuck you against this wall until you forget your own name."
"Aerionā¦"
"Come." He ordered, his fingers moving faster, deeper. "Come for me now."
And you obeyed.
The orgasm came violently, unexpectedly, taking over every part of your body. You screamed his name, and the hand on your neck tightened, stifling the sound, transforming it into something muffled and desperate. Your legs weakened, but he held you, his fingers still inside you, prolonging each wave of pleasure until you no longer knew where one ended and another began.
When he finally stopped, you were hanging on him, unable to support yourself. He waited, let you catch your breath, let your legs stop trembling. Then, without warning, he turned you. His hands pressed you against the wall, your back to him, your face turned toward the window, toward the lights of King's Landing below. You felt his body against your back, felt his clothes still on him, the contrast of fabric against your naked skin.
"Look at them." His voice was in your ear. "Look at all those people. They've no idea what's happening here. They've no idea their princess is with her brother."
You moaned, your hands braced against the cold stone.
"But you know." His hands found your hips, pulling you back, arching your spine. "You know exactly what's going to happen. You know I'll fuck you until you can't take anymore. And you know you'll love every second."
You heard the sound of his clothes opening, his belt falling to the floor. Then you felt it. Felt the tip of his cock pressing against your cunt, hot, hard, sliding slowly, teasing, torturing.
"Pleaseā¦" You begged again, and hated how pathetic your voice sounded. "Please, Aerionā¦"
He entered all at once, rough, deep, and the cry that escaped your lips echoed in the empty chamber. His hand found your mouth, muffling the sound, while the other held your hip hard enough to leave marks.
"Keep quiet." His voice was a growl against your ear. "You want everyone to hear? You want Father to come see his little girl getting fucked by her brother?"
You shook your head, but your body betrayed any pretense, clenching around him, pulling him deeper.
"'Cause I wouldn't care." He began to move, slowly at first, each thrust deep. "I wish he'd see. Wish he'd see how wet you get for me. How you clench. How you moan."
He took his hand from your mouth and placed it on your neck again, squeezing.
"You're going to marry." The words were spat between thrusts. "You'll lie down for a man you've never seen." Thrust. "You'll let him touch what's mine." Thrust. "But never." Thrust. "Never." He thrust harder. "Will he fuck you like this."
His free hand left your hip and found your buttock, his palm striking hard against the skin. The pain was a shock, and you cried out, but the sound was muffled by his hand on your neck.
"There." He struck again, in the same place, and the pain burned, bloomed, mixed with the pleasure of his thrusts. "You like that."
He struck again, and again, and each slap made your body tremble, made you clench around him, made your moans grow louder.
"Ask for it." He ordered. "Ask me to hit you harder."
"Pleaseā¦" You could barely speak, your voice muffled by his hand, by the lack of air, by the rhythm of his thrusts. "Hit me more."
His hand left your neck and found your face, turning it to the side, forcing you to meet his eyes as he continued fucking you against the wall. His face was close, those violet eyes burning.
"Look at me." He ordered. "I want you to see who's fucking you. I want you to see who makes you come."
His free hand found your cunt, his fingers finding your clit and pressing, massaging in circles to the rhythm of his thrusts. The pleasure was so intense you nearly fainted, nearly lost consciousness, but his eyes held you, kept you present.
"You'll come again." It wasn't a question. "You'll come with me inside you. And when you come, I'll come too. I'll fill you with my seed. I'll leave my spend dripping down your legs, and if the gods bless us, you'll have my child. And when you're lying for your husbandā¦" His fingers moved faster, his thrusts more brutal. "You'll remember this. You'll remember me coming inside you. You'll remember what it's like to be fucked by a dragon."
The orgasm came like a wave, but this time it was different. It was deeper, more intense, taking over every part of your body in successive waves that didn't seem to want to stop. You screamed his name, and he kissed you to muffle the sound, his tongue invading your mouth as he continued to move, prolonging every second of your pleasure.
Then he groaned against your lips, and you felt it. Felt him come inside you, hot spurts that seemed never-ending, filling you, marking you from within. He stayed still for a moment, both of you breathless, pressed together. Then he slowly drew back, and you felt his spend running down your legs, hot and sticky.
Aerion stepped back, watching you. You were still braced against the wall, trembling, unable to move. The moon bathed your naked body, his seed running down your thigh, the marks of his slaps on your buttocks, your lips swollen from so much biting.
"Look at you." His voice was low, full of cruel admiration. "All spread open for me."
You tried to speak, but no sound came out.
He approached again, and for a moment you thought he might touch you, might be gentle. But instead, his hand found your face and he slapped you. His palm struck your cheek hard, making your head turn to the side. The pain was a shock, but the pleasure came right behind it, a hot wave that made your body tremble.
"That's so you remember." He said, his voice calm. "Every time, you'll remember me."
He held your chin, turning your face back to meet his.
"Open." He ordered, his thumb pressing your lips. "Open that mouth."
You obeyed immediately, your lips parting to receive him. He pushed two fingers into your mouth, and you sucked instinctively, tasting yourself on him, tasting the mix of you both.
"Suck it like it's my cock."
You obeyed, your eyes fixed on his as you licked and sucked his fingers like they were the most precious thing in the world. He watched every movement, every contraction of your tongue, every swallow.
"Good, little sister." He removed his fingers and wiped them on your lips, a possessive gesture. "Now kneel."
The stone floor was cold against your knees, but you barely felt it. You had eyes only for him, for his cock still hard, still wet from you both. He looked beautiful there, his shirt open revealing his muscular chest, his breathing still quick, his eyes devouring you.
"Look at this." He held his cock, showing it to you. "Look how you leave me, ready to fuck your mouth."
You opened your mouth without him needing to ask, your tongue out, offering yourself. He stepped closer, the tip of his cock brushing your lips. His hand found your hair, winding the strands around his fingers hard enough to hurt. Then he pulled you forward, guiding his cock into your mouth in one rough movement. You nearly choked on the depth, but he didn't give you time to adjust.
"There." His voice was a low groan. "That greedy little mouth."
He began to move, thrusting his hips forward, each stroke hitting the back of your throat, and you fought not to gag, not to pull away, because this was exactly what you wanted. Tears began streaming from your eyes, and he saw.
"Look at you." He pulled your hair, forcing you to meet his eyes as he continued fucking your mouth. "So pretty on your knees, crying on my cock. Is this how a princess should be?"
You moaned around him, and the vibration made his eyes close for a moment.
"Shit." He gripped your hair tighter. "Do that again. Make that noise again."
You obeyed, moaning loudly around his cock, and the reaction was immediate. His thrusts grew more brutal, deeper, and you felt every inch of him sliding down your throat, felt his taste, his smell, his texture.
"Enough." He pulled your hair, drawing his cock from your mouth with a wet pop. You gasped, trying to catch your breath, saliva running down your chin, tears mixing with it.
His fingers slid inside you, wet, hot, and you moaned around him.
"Wet again." He laughed. "Incredible. I could fuck you all night and you'd stay wet."
His fingers moved inside you, finding that spot again. Pleasure began building again, and you felt your legs tremble, your hips move instinctively against his hand.
"There." He said. "Move."
You obeyed, your hips moving to the rhythm of his fingers, your mouth still occupied with his balls, sucking and licking like your life depended on it. The orgasm approached again, and you felt every muscle in your body tense, ready to explode.
"Don't come." He ordered suddenly. "Not yet."
You moaned in protest, but he gripped your hair tighter.
"I said no." His hand stopped moving inside you, his fingers still, torturing. He withdrew his fingers and stood, moving off your face. "Get up. On all fours."
You obeyed immediately, turning and bracing your hands and knees on the cold floor. The position was humiliating, exposed, and you loved every second. He positioned himself behind you, and you felt his hands on your buttocks, squeezing, spreading, exposing you completely.
"Look at that cunt." He said. "All swollen from how much I fucked it."
He spat on you.
You felt the hot saliva land on your cunt, slowly dripping down, and you moaned loudly.
Then he fucked you again, but this time it was different. Slower, deeper, each stroke reaching the deepest part, the spot that blurred your vision. His hand found your buttocks again, and the slaps returned, hard, rhythmic, in time with his thrusts... He pulled you against him, burying himself to the hilt, and stayed still for a moment, both of you breathless.
"Say it." He ordered. "Say you're mine."
"I'm yours." The word escaped in a sob. "Yours, Aerion."
"Say it again, sister."
"Yours. Yours. Yours."
He groaned, a deep sound, and you felt him come again, hot spurts filling you, overflowing, running down your legs. He kept moving, prolonging both your pleasure, until finally he stopped, panting.
For a moment, neither of you moved.
Then he slowly drew back, and you felt the emptiness, felt his seed running, running, pooling on the stone floor. You stayed on all fours, unable to move, your body trembling, your breathing ragged.
He knelt behind you and, surprisingly, his hands found your buttocks with gentleness. His fingers traced the red marks from the slaps, the sensitive areas where your skin still burned.
"Beautiful." His voice was low, almost gentle. "All marked. All mine."
He leaned down and kissed each mark, each welt, his lips soft against your sore skin. You trembled at the contrast, at the unexpected gentleness after so much brutality.
Then he turned you, laying you on your back on the cold floor. He lay beside you, propped on one elbow, and watched you for a long moment. His hand found your face, his fingers tracing the marks from his slaps, the red that still burned on your cheeks.
"You're beautiful like this." He said, and for the first time that night, there was no cruelty in his voice. Only admiration, only desire, only something that felt dangerously close toā¦ "All ruined."
He kissed you, and this time it was different. Slow, deep, almostā¦ sweet. His tongue found yours in a lazy rhythm, and his hands caressed your body with a gentleness that made your heart ache.
When he drew back, both of you were breathless again, but for different reasons.
"You're leaving." He said, and it wasn't a question. "Going to Dorne."
"Yes." Your voice came out low. "I am."
He watched you for a long moment, and you saw something in his eyes you'd never seen before. Something that looked almost likeā¦ vulnerability? Loss?
"And you'll forget me."
"Never." You answered immediately, your hands finding his face. "I'll never forget you, Aerion. Never."
He smiled, but it wasn't his cruel smile. It was something sadder, more genuine.
"But until thenā¦" He kissed you again, quick, brutal. "Until then, you're mine."
He stood and extended his hand to help you up. You took it, and when you were standing, he pulled you against him, his arms wrapping around your waist.
"Come." He said. "I want to take you to bed."
"Here?"
"No." He laughed, and it was almost normal. "My chambers. Or yours. I don't care. I just wantā¦" He hesitated, and you saw something rare: him searching for words. "I just want to hold you tonight."
You watched him for a moment, looking for the deceit, the hidden cruelty. But you didn't find it. Just him, just Aerion, just the brother you loved in ways you shouldn't love.
"Yes." You answered. "Let's go."
He smiled, and it was so genuine it hurt. Then he bent and lifted you into his arms as if you weighed nothing, and you left the Small Council chamber, leaving behind the remnants of the torn shift, the puddles of wine and pleasure, the moon that had witnessed everything.
The corridors were empty as he carried you to his chambers. No one saw the prince with his naked sister in his arms, the slap marks on her buttocks, the seed running down her thighs. No one saw, but for a moment, you almost wished they had. Almost wished the whole world knew you were his, and he was yours.
His chambers were dark when you entered, but he didn't light any candles. He drew you closer, his lips just a breath away, and the heat between you seemed to intensify with each passing moment. Your eyes opened, fixing on his with an intense, desirous gleam. Your hand slid gently across his chest, the touch light yet as profane as before.
Aerion responded to this gesture with a burning look, his fingers exploring the contour of your face, while your breaths intertwined, quick and ragged. You raised your hand, tracing a slow, seductive line along his neck, before whispering, in a tone barely audible:
"MÄzÄ«s." (Come)
The word was an invitation, and Aerion didn't hesitate.
He followed you with a smile, your hands intertwined as you guided him back toward the bed. The fire crackled, and you just let out a low laugh, placing the pillows that were scattered on the floor back onto the bed. When you reached the bed, you pushed him gently, your eyes alight with a passion that seemed to consume everything around you. Aerion lay down, looking at you with an expression of adoration, feeling the desire increase with each of your movements. You leaned over him, your bodies meeting with an intensity that spoke more than any words could express.
Your lips met in a deep, fervent kiss, while his hands roughly roamed your body, expressing all his longing and desire.
"Won't you really tell me how many you sought out?" you whispered near his lips, with Aerion's hands holding your face. "If you don't tell me, I'll find out and I'll get rid of them, brother."
"I'd never find you in any of those women," Aerion replied with a smile, his eyes fixed on your lips and then descending to your exposed breasts, before returning to the intensity of your eyes. "I'd rather die by the dragonfire that consumes me than think anyone could replace you, could burn with me."
"Going without touching me truly changes a dragon." You smiled ironically, sealing your lips to Aerion's and biting them before pulling away.
Aerion's calloused hands found solace on your ribcage, his thumbs slowly tracing the lower line of your breasts, making your nipples harden. The movement was almost calming, but to you it felt like a predator gripping its prey. You let out an exasperated smile as you slowly approached Aerion's lips. He held your breasts, squeezing them hard, pinching and pulling your flesh, while small sighs escaped your mouth.
Aerion seemed to know what you were thinking and decided to strike first. His lips captured yours in an ardent kiss. Aerion's tongue slid into your mouth, tasting every part of you. When you finally parted, your breaths were ragged, chests heaving, and saliva covered the lower parts of your faces. He kissed you repeatedly, becoming increasingly aggressive, biting and pulling your lips and tongue until you tasted iron on them.
Moisture slowly ran down the inside of your thighs again, and you trembled when Aerion's heavy hand turned you and laid you on the bed, pulling you closer to him. He gripped the curve of your hips, his palms sliding upward in a slow exploration that excited you.
"What do you desire?" he asked in High Valyrian.
"More," you begged, rubbing against his erection, emitting desperate moans.
When Aerion's hand descended to fondle your intimacy, you felt your skin burn with fire. Desire swelled in your throat as he ran his hand over your neck, through your hair, grabbing a handful and using it to control you. His touch was possessive and exciting.
Aerion slid inside you, and you arched your back, moaning with pleasure, filling yourself completely. His hands found purchase in your hair, anchoring himself as he deepened into your cunt. Flames of pleasure licked your walls. Ecstasy coursed through your veins like milk of the poppy, numbing and delirious, as he slid in and out of you. The warm pressure expanded, and your eyes rolled back, hearing Aerion's moans echo yours.
You hissed between your teeth. The heat, like hot iron burning flesh, intensified when Aerion's face rested on your shoulder and you could hold him tighter. Aerion bit your shoulder, and you dug your nails into his back, feeling the scars beneath your palms. However, before you could be more cautious, Aerion became even more merciless and deepened further into your cunt.
Seven Hells, you thought.
Aerion's body was covered in sweat, and each time he deepened inside you, you felt as if you were being consumed by fire. The sensation of being filled by him was almost superhuman, a mix of pleasure and pain that seemed endless. The chamber was filled with the sounds of your violent love, the creaking of the bed and the murmurs of pleasure and frustration. you were savages in your desires.
Aerion let out small moans as he pressed his forehead against yours. When he saw you part your lips and dig your nails into his skin, he knew you were close to climax. He maintained a steady rhythm, feeling your orgasm peak and soak the sheets in an uncontrollable squirt. Braced against the headboard, Aerion withdrew from you, and you trembled.
"Can you ride a dragon?" he asked, leaning over you and pushing back the hair stuck to your face. You nodded.
Aerion descended to your lips and kissed you before lying beside you on the bed. He sat up and extended his hand for you to approach. You, with your long Targaryen hair falling to your waist, crawled toward him, braced your hands on his collarbones and positioned your legs on either side of Aerion's hips, aligning your soaked intimacy with the head of his cock.
The position made your toes curl, and the way you sank down and rose repeatedly drew heavy moans from the prince. Aerion squeezed your waist, quickening the movements while admiring you with his lilac eyes, surrendering to pleasure. He felt your hands tighten on his shoulders and your moans increase as he watched your brow furrow. Aerion held your hips firmly and pushed hard, unable to contain himself.
Your lips met his briefly before you felt the warm flow of his seed inside you, running down the walls of your tight intimacy. Aerion smiled, pushing the hair from your face once more, admiring your flushed, exhausted face. You were completely tired, your body light and slow.
You lay down on Aerion, who stroked the back of your neck, while his other hand slid along your waist.
He continued stroking your neck, his fingers tracing a gentle, comforting path on your skin. His eyes, still gleaming from the recent experience, fixed on you as you remained breathless. You knew you couldn't be with Aerion, but you couldn't help burning with him.
You were blood of the same blood, destined to burn together until everything turned to ash.
The next morning, you sat at the breakfast table with your family. You wore a high-collared dress that hid the marks on your neck. Your face was slightly flushed on one side, but you disguised it with rice powder that your handmaidens had brought when they found you in your brother's chambers with him.
Egg sat beside you at the table, chattering about the sword training they'd have later. Daeron, your twin, sipped wine even at that hour of the morning, with deep shadows under his eyes. Your father read documents at the head of the table.
Aerion entered last.
He sat on the other side of the table, far from you, and didn't look in your direction even once. He ate in silence, drank his wine, and left without saying a word, as if nothing had happened. As if the previous night hadn't existed.
And for the first time, you wondered if he felt anything too, or if you were just another of his whores. The difference, you realised with a tightness in your chest, was that you couldn't stop loving him even knowing that ā that you wouldn't stop seeking each other out to satisfy your own desires to ride a dragon.
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