Moon @moonklt - Tumblr Blog

Guys My Age

Synopsis. (!) Two assignments overdue: your law professor and your history professor. Objective: After teasing them all semester, Professor Higuruma Hiromi and Professor Nanami Kento…snap. Time: At the same time.

Pairing. Nanami Kento x Reader x Higuruma Hiromi

Content. MDNI, fem!reader, history professor!Nanami, law professor!Higuruma, college AU, you’re such a TEASE, driving them wiId, they’re overworked, they’re older, tutoring, STERN Nanami, fíngering, rings, p sIapping, p talking, chokíng, rídin’ Higuruma’s nose, oraI (m + ‌f), pússydrunk Higuruma, manhandIing, dragging, running from it, bíting, BOTH, fuII neIsons, bIindfolds, guessing, DP, SAME TIME, spítting, DÚMBlFICATlON, cervíx smoochin’, big stretches, they’re FÉRAL, creampíes, cúmpIay, slight cúmfIation, surprise at the end, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 13.2k

A/N. You babygirls said you wanted more law professor!Higuruma so…I said why not have BOTH?!

He had you next hour.

Professor Nanami Kento - head of the History Department, PhD with Distinction - had you in his next class.

And he wasn’t even half as prepared as he should be: the coffee-maker in the staff room had broken down.

Goodness knows how many times the blond-haired man has haunted that very station. Slouched over, sighing, sipping on his seventh coffee of the day.

And although he could blame it all on the higher-ups and their stingy funding, or perhaps the frat boys of Delta Jujutsu Pi that’ve made it a challenge to sneak inside—he blames you. He wouldn’t even have latched onto such a respite had it not been for the way you made his blood pressure rise…in all sorts of ways.

Nanami’s eyes glaze over, and his hand absent-mindedly drifts between his legs. Perhaps if he got his pent-up energy out first…

“Kento.” A knock at his cubicle. And Nanami jolts his hand away as though it burned-

It was Professor Higuruma Hiromi.

daughter0fdionysus

story summary: Omegas had never been allowed within the ranks of the Scout Regiment, that was until Erwin took over as Commander. Now, it’s commonplace for Alphas and Omegas to work side by side and harmony has prevailed.

That is until one Omega slips up and triggers their first ever heat, that Omega is you…

“Shh, little one. Let me take care of you like you asked. Your skin is divine to touch… soft and smooth. It makes me want to bite it all over,” he admitted. “If you were mine, I would—” Erwin let the sentence falter, not knowing if it was wise to admit exactly what he would do if you were his. Nor did he want to admit just how badly he wanted you to be his.

pairing: Alpha Erwin Smith x Omega female reader

word count: 10.1k (brings snacks and get comfy)

warnings: omegaverse AU, no mention of titans, abundant mentions of heats/ruts, boss/subordinate dynamic, knotting, breeding kink, biting kink, aggression surrounding reader (they remain safe throughout), scenting, protector Erwin, internal conflict, mini appearances of Hange and Levi, spit, mounting, look… it’s a lot of smut and smutty thoughts all the way through 😆

thanks to @/littlefreak-1 for volunteering to beta read this behemoth

Before Commander Smith had taken over The Scout Regiment, Omegas had not been allowed to serve within the division. The school of thought was generally that it would not be safe for any Omega to be around a military division largely occupied by Alphas, and not just any Alphas, but some of the strongest and most ferocious.

Erwin disagreed with that idea.

“If any of my soldiers cannot control their nature and act accordingly around an Omega then they do not belong in my ranks. We must protect those that cannot protect themselves and do so without appearing superior. No Scout worth their salt would dare defy me.”

He recalled the stunned silence he was met with when he laid out his reasoning for the draft of new recruits he was bringing into the Scouts. Even his closest ally, Pyxis, had glanced at him with doubtful eyes and a twitching moustache.

It was a brave decision, and he knew that. However, history would not tell the tales of the meek and whilst Commander Smith was not looking for fame or glory, he was certain that this generation of Scouts would become infamous. He would ensure it was for good reason and not from disgrace.

From that moment, Omegas were welcomed into the ranks and two years of peace and harmony ensued.

6x-x9

𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐋𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐀𝐑 𔘓 𝑯𝑬𝑰𝑨𝑵!𝓡.𝑺𝑼𝑲𝑼𝑵𝑨

When Ryomen 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 found a temple girl still on her knees after he had burned it to the ground, he thought you'd be perfect to take as his.

𝓒𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 · 𝟏𝟖+ 𝒎𝒅𝒏𝒊 · ꒰ 𝒇. 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ⋮⋮ 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒎!𝒔𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒏𝒂 ⋮⋮ mentions of weapons (knife) ⋮⋮ reader at one point tries to take his life ⋮⋮ mention of blood ⋮⋮ 𝒗𝒊𝒓𝒈𝒊𝒏 reader ⋮⋮ p in v ⋮⋮ his two cks mentioned ⋮⋮ cervix kissing ⋮⋮ tummy bulges ⋮⋮ cum-flated ⋮⋮ c-pied ⋮⋮ 𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒍 f. rec ⋮⋮ he eats you out under a pear tree ⋮⋮ bathtub 𝒔𝒆𝒙 ⋮⋮ dp ⋮⋮ nipple play ⋮⋮ mentions of pregnancy ꒱

𝒲𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 · 𝟐𝟓𝐤+ · ꒰ 𝒓𝒆𝒖𝒑𝒍𝒐𝒂𝒅 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 : @!torusbabe ꒱

The Heian era stretched long and bloody under skies that never quite cleared of smoke. Villages burned not for conquest alone, but because Ryomen Sukuna found the sight of flames prettier than the thatched roofs they devoured.

He moved like calamity given legs, four arms thick with corded muscle, tattoos crawling black across scarlet skin, eyes the color of fresh-spilled blood and just as hungry. They called him the King of Curses long before any true cursed spirit bore the name; humans feared him the way prey fears the open mouth of a tiger, and with good reason.

He slaughtered priests mid-chant, crushed shrine maidens beneath his geta, left offering bowls overturned and spilling rice across blood-slicked tatami. Faith irritated him. Devotion irritated him more. It was the only thing that ever made him pause long enough to really look at someone.

You were different in the way a single unbroken flower is different in a field turned to ash.

doeyedfaerie

𝗦𝗜𝗟𝗞 & 𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗘𝗟 | part one

❝ you said you like my eyes, and you like to make 'em roll ❞

𝗙𝗔𝗡𝗗𝗢𝗠 ⟢ house of the dragon 𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬 ⟢ after your mother's death, the streets of king's landing became your new reality, though not in the way you imagined. with your striking silver hair, an inheritance from a bloodline whispered about in hushed tones, you were sent to live among the perfumed decadence of a brothel on the street of silk. there, beauty was currency and innocence was worth more than gold. your master kept you untouched, a rare jewel preserved for the right buyer, teaching you not with touch but with sight. night after night you were made to watch from shadowed alcoves, learning every gasp, every sigh, every secret that brought pleasure to man and woman alike. you prayed the day would never come when someone important enough would claim you, until the rogue prince himself, daemon targaryen, walked through the velvet-draped doorway. his violet eyes swept over the room like a man used to having everything, but when they found you, they did not look away, and in that moment you understood two things: that your master's patience had finally paid off, and that your fate now belonged entirely to him. 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘 ⟢ so... i may have went overboard with this one. she is a very long one shot, so take your time! xoxo 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 ⟢ explicit sexual content, loss of virginity, lower cases, power imbalance, rough sex (p in v), fingering, oral (fem receiving), overstimulation, dubious consent, brothels, voyeurism, shame, dacryphilia, bodily fluids, past trauma, breeding kink (didn’t pull out), physical restraint (held in place, pinned), possessiveness, canon divergence (no dance of the dragons), no use of y/n. 𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗧 ⟢ 12,171

˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖ the room was drowned in silver light, the glow spilling in through parted curtains and mingling with the thick scent of sweat and lust. breathless moans tangled with the low crackle of the hearth, the heat from the fire wrapping around you as you sat curled upon a cushion in the dim alcove. your skin still held the dampness of the room’s warmth, and your gaze refused to stray from the scene unfolding before you.

not far from them, another pair moved in their own fevered rhythm. the man’s grip on his partner’s waist was bruising, each thrust hard enough to shift the bed beneath them. the woman beneath him clung to his shoulders, her back arching to take him deeper, her voice a choked series of sounds that were half pleasure, half plea. the sight pulled heat into your cheeks, your thighs pressing together instinctively, though you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

the mingled gasps, the stifled groans, and the heady scent of bodies made the air thick enough to drink. you sat motionless, not daring to shift for fear of breaking the spell the scene wove around you. It was like being caught between waking and a dream, every sound amplified, every movement etched sharply into your mind.

it had been weeks since your first steps into the street of silk. a week had passed since your mother’s passing. a week since the people you had trusted, the ones who claimed to care for you, had traded you away like nothing more than a discarded object. fear had gripped you at first, an icy knot in your chest, but your master’s words had been calm, soothing. no harm would come to you, he had said. your innocence would remain intact. at least, until someone of significance took notice. and unfortunately, that happened far more often than you could find comfort in.

during those weeks, your role had been simple: observe. watch, learn, and absorb the way bodies moved, how desire was coaxed, where a touch would spark fire or shiver. you had memorized which strokes and caresses drew moans, which bites or presses left your partners trembling. you had lost count of the limbs, the shapes, the textures. breasts, cocks, thighs, torsos; each different, each a lesson in itself. you had cataloged them all, your mind storing each intimate detail like a secret ledger of the senses.

but tonight felt different. a hollow pit gnawed at your stomach, insistent and unyielding, no matter how many goblets of spiced wine you swallowed. you couldn’t name the cause. the night had followed the familiar rhythm, just as any other. nothing out of place. nothing unexpected. yet the feeling only deepened as the hours crept on, crawling under your skin and settling low in your belly. thankfully, your duties were almost at an end. soon, you would be able to retreat to your chambers, to the small sanctuary allotted to you, to sleep and gather yourself for another day of instruction. twenty minutes, maybe a few more, and then freedom, fleeting though it might be, would be yours.

so you leaned back, letting your eyes drift over the scene before you. you finished the last drop of wine, licking the residue from your lips, savoring the warmth and sharp sweetness. without it, you knew you would be nothing but trembling nerves, your body betraying the fear you tried to smother. even after nearly a month in this world, the exposure, the constant intimacy, it still terrified you. you had been raised as a lady, destined for marriage, for a husband and a household, not for this life of being paraded, handled, and used. the thought sometimes brought you to tears, and in the quiet of your room, you would cry yourself to sleep, mourning the future that had been stolen from you. you did not want this life. but there was nowhere else to go.

time was ticking as the couples reached their peaks, almost as if they were in sync. a collection of screams and cries mingled with the outside noise, couples much like them in the distance. pants followed shortly after, breathless and heavy as they collapsed onto furs and stone.

you finally looked away, setting your empty cup onto the little table and stood. you brushed your silken gown down, the material bunching over your waist a little from how you were sitting and from how short your outfit was. despite being off limits, your master still wanted you to look your best. still wanted you to appear as some forbidden gift. you even had bows in your hair to tie the whole present look together.

you stepped out from the alcove, sidestepping the discarded clothes on the ground as you moved to leave. a dull ache had grown between your brows from the wine and just general fatigue and all you wanted was to sleep. or nap was the proper term, considering you haven’t slept since the day your mother died. you needed all the energy you could muster for the days to come.

but before you could ascend the stairs that would lead you to your room, that pit in your stomach resurfaced, stronger than ever. you paused, only moving to dodge a naked woman dosed with lunacy as she ran down the stone passageway with sultry laughter. another woman, also unclothed, chased her, a hungry look in her darkened eyes. and when you spun on your heel to face the staircase, there he stood.

your breath hitched. in all your time spent in the street of silk, daemon targaryen was a name that was thrown around quite often. you have never had the pleasure of meeting the rogue prince, but the rumors and praises you’ve heard was outrageous. one story in particular always came to taunt.

daemon was well known in the brothels, for very good reasons. he was said to be the best sex, as you’ve overheard some saying. he took plenty of women to bed, all of different hair colors and skin. but it was the silver haired ones he seemed to favor, even though they were rare to find in such places.

silver hair was a trademark of the targaryen family. that or the velaryon, cousins to the targaryens. it was a cherished appearance, one that you yourself happened to possess.

you never knew your father, having abandoned your mother days after learning of your existence. but considering your mother was a dark haired baratheon, you knew the silver locks had to come from his side. which added another thing to hate him for.

though you guess your hair color did save you from becoming like every other woman in the brothels. It kept you untouched, special, according to your master. you didn’t know how much longer that would continue to be truth for.

daemon’s gaze had lingered longer than was comfortable, his deep, amethyst eyes locking onto yours as if peeling back every layer you hid from the world. it was a stare that seared, that crawled beneath your skin and left you exposed without a touch. you shivered and quickly tore your eyes away, releasing the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. without a moment’s hesitation, you bolted up the stairs, ignoring the way the thin silk of your gown clung and shifted around you, uncaring if it slipped or tangled.

your chambers were modest, yet a small oasis in the midst of the chaos below. the bed, layered with furs and silky sheets, welcomed you with a softness that reminded you of home, of a life you had lost. for the first time in what felt like days, you let yourself sink into the comfort of it, curling tightly as if you could shield yourself from the world. a sigh escaped your lips, though it faltered when you noticed the dampness between your thighs. hastily, you reached to wipe away the evidence of your involuntary desire, frustrated that every night seemed to end this way, that your body betrayed your mind while your heart still resisted.

you stayed curled for several minutes, letting your heartbeat slow, letting the memories of the street of silk fade just enough to give you a sliver of calm. finally, you sat up, your gaze falling on the small tub in the corner, steam curling from the water in delicate tendrils. someone had prepared it for you just moments before your arrival, a small courtesy that felt impossibly tender in a place like this. a faint smile lifted your lips, nearly invisible, but it was enough to remind you that little moments of care still existed, even here.

your hands moved to the straps of your gown, slipping them from your shoulders. the silk pooled at your feet in a soft heap, leaving you completely exposed. no underwear, no shielding fabric; one of the endless, absurd rules of the brothel, designed to strip away any remaining defences, even yours. standing there for a moment, you let the cool air brush your skin, your pulse thrumming from the mixture of fear, desire, and the faint thrill of being completely unguarded in your own private space. the bath awaited, and for a fleeting second, it promised a reprieve from everything you had been forced to endure below.

slipping into the warm water, the scent of lavender wrapping around you like a gentle caress, you let out a shuddering breath and closed your eyes. the heat was immediate and enveloping, seeping into your muscles and melting some of the tension that had been coiled in your body since the moment you arrived. steam rose in thick, curling waves, fogging the air and making the stone walls of your small chamber appear softer, more intimate, less like the prison they often felt like. the water lapped gently against your skin as you leaned back, allowing yourself to sink further, letting the stone wall support you while your fingers skimmed the surface, trailing through the scented liquid.

you dipped your head beneath the surface, the warmth closing around you in a cocoon. a moment of stillness greeted you, punctuated only by the tiny bubbles that escaped from your nose, floating upward in delicate arcs before bursting at the water’s surface. it was the first time in what felt like forever that you could let yourself exist solely in the present, free from the eyes, expectations, and pressures of the world above. when you finally broke the surface, gasping slightly for air, droplets clung to your eyelashes and lips, running in rivulets down your neck and shoulders. you exhaled slowly, savoring the moment of quiet.

and then your eyes opened, and the serenity shattered.

daemon stood in the doorway, impossibly composed, his arms folded casually across his chest, leaning just enough to appear relaxed but still undeniably commanding. that same confident, teasing smile played on his lips, and his gaze roamed freely over you, drinking in the smooth expanse of skin, the curves of your shoulders, the delicate line of your collarbone. Your heart stuttered, chest tightening as a flush of heat spread across your body.

“you’re not supposed to be in here,” you gasped, the words trembling on your lips as you brought your hands up instinctively to cover yourself. your fingers pressed against the warmth of your own skin, your chest rising and falling rapidly. panic and embarrassment twisted together, making you sink a little deeper into the water, though the attempt to hide yourself felt utterly pointless. the bath offered no shield, the water only reflected the truth of your exposure.

daemon tilted his head, an almost lazy curiosity in the tilt as his eyes traced the contours of your face, the flush in your cheeks, the wide, startled eyes that met his. He leaned slightly against the doorway, the movement small, and hummed, low and indulgent, like someone savoring the scent of something rare and precious. “no?” he mused, his voice smooth, teasing, and just dangerous enough to make your stomach twist. “your dear master would beg to differ, after just gifting you to me for the night.”

the words hit like a ripple through the water, and for a moment, you froze, the heat of the bath and the chill of panic mingling in a dizzying swirl. your heart pounded in your chest, echoing loudly in your ears as you processed the implications. this was more than just a visit; this was a claim, a declaration, and the raw intensity in his eyes told you he would leave no room for protest. your body reacted before your mind could, every nerve alight with a mixture of dread, anticipation, and something far more dangerous. the small space between you and him felt impossibly charged, the steam curling around your forms like a shroud, making the room smaller, hotter, more intimate.

you swallowed hard, unable to tear your gaze from him even as you tried to shrink into the water, the heat of embarrassment and something deeper rising in tandem with the steam. daemon’s presence was overwhelming, commanding, and the way he simply stood there, patient and assured, made every instinct in your body tighten, coil, and ache in ways you didn’t yet understand. he was here, in your sanctuary, and the weight of his gaze told you that nothing about this night would remain ordinary.

your silence only seemed to embolden him, the sway of his movement slow and predatory. each step he took toward the tub made your pulse jump, your stomach fluttering with a mix of dread and something you couldn’t yet name. your pale, silken hair floated around you, drifting on the surface of the water like liquid silver, catching the flickering candlelight and making the room feel impossibly small and intimate. your fingers clutched the edge of the tub, knuckles whitening, and you swallowed hard, tasting the sharp tang of fear and something else that made your throat dry.

daemon stopped just short of the tub, the faintest shadow passing over the depths of his violet eyes as he looked down at you, drinking in every inch of exposed skin. you curled into yourself instinctively, trying to cover what little you could while the water lapped softly against your thighs and arms. the sensation of his gaze was like heat on your bare flesh, making your nerves hum, making your body respond in ways that made you ache with confusion and unwanted desire. you had been ogled before, admired, perhaps even desired, but never had anyone been given the authority to look, to linger, to consume your attention like this.

the thought twisted through you, igniting your nerves, sending a tremor through your thighs, and you were grateful for the water masking the evidence of your body’s betrayal. you pressed your arms against your chest, trying to anchor yourself in something familiar, but even that small action only heightened your awareness of the sensations he evoked. every flick of his gaze, every tilt of his head, every faint curve of that teasing smile felt like a pull on some thread buried deep within you, one you had never dared unravel.

you didn’t fear losing your virginity. why would you? it wasn’t an importance to you anymore. not now that you were ruined to ever receiving any suitors. no man wanted to marry a whore. no one sane, at least. that was what you were, right? a whore? you lived in a brothel, where meant to serve man and woman alike. you were paid to do that, despite not receiving the coins yourself. no, the money all went to your master who had the audacity to claim it was funding your room, the food you ate and the clothes they provided you. you were never one to complain, but you had never been handed out like some used wash cloth. until tonight, that is.

perhaps a whore you weren’t, but tonight and all the nights to come, you will be.

you stayed still, holding your breath as he began to remove his clothing, each movement deliberate and controlled, commanding attention without needing a word. his rough, calloused fingers worked over the buttons of his loose shirt, one by one, peeling the fabric from his chest until it fell to the floor in a soft rustle. your eyes traced every line of him, drinking in the planes of his torso, the multiple scars and old wounds scattered across his skin like constellations, each mark telling a story of battles fought, victories claimed, and secrets held. the sight both intimidated and enthralled you, leaving your throat tight and your heartbeat quickening.

your gaze faltered slightly as one of his hands slid downward, unfastening the ties at his pants with an easy, almost casual motion. the anticipation built inside you, a coiling tension that seemed to pulse through every nerve in your body. with a single smooth tug, he freed himself, the base springing upward the moment the fabric gave way. you gasped, the sharp intake of air catching in your chest. you had seen countless bodies in the past weeks, countless men exposed, yet none had compared to the sheer size, the thickness, the undeniable presence of the rogue prince. your stomach fluttered, your core tightening instinctively, and heat rushed across your cheeks as your eyes lingered involuntarily.

without a word, he stepped closer, the space in the small tub now filled with the weight and heat of his body. you pressed back against the edge, adjusting just enough to give him room, though the closeness was almost suffocating. his knee brushed against your inner thigh, an intimate contact that sent a shiver through you. you swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing, to calm the flood of nerves, excitement, and an unfamiliar, overwhelming desire that pooled in your chest.

he positioned himself perfectly, fitting into the tub in a way that seemed natural, his body pressing against yours in all the right ways. surprisingly, it didn’t feel cramped; rather, it felt intimate, almost electric, and despite yourself, you allowed your body to relax against the cold stone beneath you. your thighs parted just slightly, unconsciously providing access to the man’s knee as it rose higher than you expected, the solid bone pressing mere inches from the apex of your arousal. your body tensed, yet you found a strange, unsettling comfort in the proximity, the closeness, the undeniable presence of him there.

a heavy silence fell over the chamber, broken only by the faint sound of water lapping against the sides of the tub. you forced yourself to look away, focusing on the distant corners of the room, trying to avoid the burn of his gaze as it pinned you, marking you in ways you couldn’t yet name. the intensity of it was almost overwhelming, like he was reading your very thoughts, staking a claim without a single word.

you must have become lost in the swirl of your own emotions, in the mixture of fear, excitement, and strange longing, because you didn’t notice the soft brush of his fingertips against your skin until it was already too late. the subtle graze of his hand against your left nipple sent a jolt through your body, sharp and electric, leaving you momentarily frozen.

you inhaled sharply, pulling back slightly in shock as a soft, startled noise slipped from your parted lips. your gaze met his, eyes narrowing ever so slightly as if to measure him, to steady your racing thoughts. He remained lounging against the opposite edge of the tub, that same confident, infuriating smile etched across his face. he shifted closer, leaning forward in a way that made your pulse stutter, his hips brushing against the curve of your body. “so sensitive,” he whispered, his eyes alight with something mischievous and predatory.

your skin tinged immediately with heat, a blush spreading across your cheeks in a rich, deep pink. you opened your mouth to respond, but he anticipated you, his warm breath fanning across your face, making your stomach tighten. “i heard you were pure,” he continued, his voice like velvet brushing against your skin, “a doe amongst wolves.” the words carried a strange mix of praise and teasing, referencing your lineage in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. your gaze locked on his, your body still painted in a delicate flush of pink, your pulse drumming loudly in your ears.

his hand rose to brush against your hair, letting your long, silver strands slip easily through his fingers. “such lovely hair,” he murmured, almost to himself. “much softer than mine.” you felt a shiver of pleasure at his touch, each stroke gentle yet charged with something you didn’t understand.

before you could respond, his hand descended, seeking your nipple again. this time, you stayed still, caught between hesitation and curiosity. his forefinger pressed softly, followed by his thumb pinching the tender flesh in a motion that sent sparks of warmth shooting through you. you bit down on your lip, struggling to contain the small sound that escaped; a mixture of a moan and a quiet whimper that betrayed your reaction.

the sensations were unlike anything you had felt before. being surrounded by so much erotic energy had often stirred something inside you, and in lonely moments at night, you had explored yourself beneath the soft folds of your gown, pressing and kneading areas you had never dared touch with anyone else. yet it had always been tentative, hesitant, stopped at the first rush of intensity. daemon, however, showed no restraint. his fingers moved over your body with confidence, coaxing pleasure from you without apology or hesitation.

you leaned back against the edge of the tub, eyelids fluttering shut as your body responded fully to his touch. despite the contrast of his rough, calloused hands with the softness of his fingertips, the sensation sent waves through you that left your muscles trembling. another hand joined the first, tracing down your thigh and easing it apart, even lifting your leg slightly to drape it over the tub’s edge, giving him more access, more control, more of you.

there was a dissonance in your mind. you knew you should feel shame, perhaps fear, or at the very least confusion, but all of that melted away under the weight of the pleasure cascading through you. your body craved the touch, revelling in the attention, and every stroke, every press of his fingers, made your pulse pound harder, every nerve in your body ache with need. you gasped, arching into him, letting yourself give over fully, your mind slipping into the ecstasy of the moment, all worries and panic buried deep. your lips parted in a shaky exhale, and your throat vocalized what your body already knew, calling his name with trembling devotion as your senses became entirely consumed by him, by the heat, by the intimate exploration of your own awakening desire.

daemon’s smile deepened, a glint of mischief and hunger lighting his eyes as he watched your body respond to his touch. “has a man ever touched you like this before?” he questioned, his breath warming the skin of your shoulder as he leaned closer to you so that the heat of his body pressed against yours. the contact made your skin tingle and your breath hitch, and his hand slid along your thigh, inching dangerously close to the center of your desire. “i was told you were a virgin,” he continued, lips brushing near the sensitive curve of your neck, “but are you truly so untouched? or am i the first to make you feel this way, the first to draw you into a sea of pleasure, to show you what it means to lose yourself completely?”

a soft whimper slipped from you as your body arched instinctively toward him, heat pooling between your legs. your mind was hazy, intoxicated with anticipation and desire, and though you knew he likely already understood the answer, you gave the faintest nod. his smirk widened, dark and predatory, as he murmured, “good.” a low, rumbling growl underlined his words as his hand finally drifted to its intended place, brushing against your most intimate folds.

you let out a startled mewl as his finger traced your wetness, parting your lips in a teasing, tantalizing way. your eyes fluttered open just enough to watch, mesmerized, as his finger pressed further inside, slipping smoothly into the slick warmth of your body. the sensation shocked you in its intensity. you hadn’t realized just how ready you were, how eagerly your body responded, and the arousal thrumming through you had nothing to do with the bathwater surrounding you.

the stretch of his finger was intense yet pleasing, filling you in a way your own hand never could. the rough texture of his skin contrasted with the softness of your own, heightening every nerve. your hips lifted with a shiver, your mouth releasing a low, breathy moan as his finger sank deeper, only the last knuckle remaining visible. the sight, the feel, the overwhelming pleasure made your eyelids fall closed as you leaned back against the cool stone of the tub, surrendering to both his touch and the encasing warmth of the water.

daemon moved with patience, withdrawing just slightly before pushing in again, curling inside of you with an almost sinful grace that left your body trembling. your hands searched for something to hold onto, grasping his shoulder and the edge of the tub as you pressed against him, losing yourself entirely in the sensations coursing through you.

time seemed to blur as he continued, his fingers exploring and coaxing, eliciting soft, needy moans from your lips that mingled with the sound of water sloshing around you. when he added a second finger, the sudden fullness made you gasp sharply, your walls tightening instinctively around him, drawing even more attention from his touch. the combination of his hands and fingers, of his relentless, skilled exploration, pushed you toward a height of pleasure you hadn’t imagined possible, and the world beyond the bath ceased to exist. you were nothing but the heat of his body, the slick pressure of his fingers inside you, and the dizzying, intoxicating surrender of every nerve in your body.

your eyes snapped open, taking in his intense gaze, and your cheeks flamed an even deeper red, rich like maroon. “relax,” he murmured, his tone gentler now, the fire in his eyes softening as if he were trying to calm a trembling creature in his hands. you nodded, forcing your body to ease, though it was already loosening on its own, the warmth of the water and his proximity making resistance nearly impossible.

sensing your walls opening to him, his fingers began moving again, two of them sliding in and out in perfect rhythm. each motion sent waves of pleasure radiating through your body, leaving you gasping and moaning, the sound blending with the quiet, rhythmic splash of water surrounding you.

his lips found the curve of your neck once more, pressing soft kisses down to where his hand rested on your chest. he wrapped his other hand around your exposed nipple, pinching and rolling it as he leaned in to capture your mouth in a deep, consuming kiss. a shiver ran through you, making your hips jerk forward, pressing into the fullness of his fingers. a sharp, strange ache began to grow low in your stomach, building steadily, a tension you had never felt so clearly. water had begun to slosh over the edges of the tub, spilling onto the floor, but neither of you minded the mess.

your nails dug into the warmth of his chest as you whimpered, dragging shallow lines across his skin. red marks bloomed where your hands had touched, angry little signs of your desperation, and you knew that these would not be the only marks left by the night. his fingers moved without mercy inside you, spreading and curling, stretching you, coaxing every nerve to life, teasing you toward a brink you had only imagined.

your moans grew higher, your head thrown back, hair tangled and wet, half clinging to the water and half slick against your shoulders. each curl of his fingers found a hot spot within you, making your body arch uncontrollably. the sensations built, coiling tight inside, until they broke, and a shuddering, whine-like cry ripped from your throat. your thighs clenched around him, gripping his fingers and hand as your body quaked in an unrelenting wave of release.

you could feel his own reaction, the subtle shudder, a soft, guttural sound escaping him just before you noticed another warm, slick substance coating your skin. your vision blurred, eyes struggling to focus, until you could make out the creamy white liquid pooling on your stomach. following the line upward, your gaze landed on the head of his cock, red and engorged, veins pulsing visibly with his heartbeat. your lips parted in awe, helplessly drawn to the sight as the same pale liquid seeped from its tip, your hand moving before you could even consider stopping it, wanting to feel, to connect, to understand this overwhelming, raw exchange between the two of you.

thankfully, daemon had more sense than you could have hoped. his hand, surprisingly soft despite its rough edges, closed over yours before it could reach him, halting your instinctive motion. “no,” he said, his voice low, almost reverent, as his eyes bore into yours with an intensity that made your chest flutter. “not tonight.”

not tonight. the words struck you, reverberating in your chest like a secret promise. did that mean… he wanted to come back to you later? the thought should have stirred nothing indifference, yet instead it sent a small, unfamiliar heat fluttering in your heart, leaving you dizzy and giddy all at once.

slowly, his fingers withdrew from your core, and the sudden loss made a small, needy whimper escape your lips. the air felt colder, emptier where his warmth had been, and you instinctively reached, only to find yourself grasping at nothing. he moved then, stepping from the tub with ease, his lithe form glistening with water and firelight. you remained seated for a heartbeat too long, staring, blinking, unsure if you could even stand without him there to anchor you. before you could make a move, his strong, practiced hands wrapped around you, lifting you effortlessly. there was no roughness, no sudden jerk, only careful strength as he carried you, the warmth of his chest brushing against your back. a soft towel was wrapped around you mid-motion, its plush fabric pressing into your damp skin, and he carried you toward the bed with the kind of fluidity that made it seem like gravity itself bent to his will.

when he laid you down, the towel cushioning the sheets from your wetness, your body shivered, part from lingering sensations and part from anticipation. you drew a sharp breath as he climbed onto the mattress, pressing his chest gently between your thighs. the moment was electric, heavy with the weight of expectation and the remnants of the sensations that still throbbed inside you. your mind raced with all the stories you’d heard, tales of women’s first experiences with men. some spoke of pain and awkwardness, of struggling against sharp edges of untested desire. others whispered of deep, intoxicating pleasure, a richness that dwarfed all else.

daemon did not move as you expected. no, he slid down toward the foot of the bed, resting on his stomach, his head lifting to gaze at you with that infuriatingly smug expression. your eyes widened in shock, lips parting in realization. Oh.

you had seen women submit to similar acts, in hushed, crude whispers. they were “eaten out,” as the saying went, a phrase that once made you flush in mortification. but now, faced with the rogue prince and the way he looked at you, it seemed far from crude.

your thighs spread wider than they had in the tub, opening to accommodate him. your skin flushed at the heat radiating from his presence, and your body quivered as he lowered his head, his warm breath brushing against your delicate folds. you bit your lip to keep from gasping, your eyes tracking every movement, fascinated and aroused by his precision. his tongue flicked lightly against your clit, teasing and tasting in equal measure, and you could not help the instinctive bucking of your hips, a soft, helpless whimper escaping into the quiet room.

your eyes locked with his, and for a suspended moment, it was impossible to look away. his gaze held you captive, commanding you to stay, to feel, to surrender to each sensation. your lips remained parted, breaths shallow, as his tongue danced with expertise, sliding into places your body had not yet fully known were capable of such sharp pleasure. when his two fingers rejoined the rhythm, slipping inside with smooth, teasing strokes, your head fell back against the pillows, eyes closing as waves of sensation crashed over you, leaving your mind foggy and your body entirely at his mercy.

every movement, every press of his lips and flick of his tongue, drew you deeper into an unfamiliar ecstasy. you surrendered fully, allowing your body to respond with moans, shivers, and trembling limbs, the room echoing with the symphony of your shared desire. each touch pushed you closer to the brink again and again, leaving you dizzy, breathless, and achingly aware that this night would mark the beginning of something far beyond the fleeting pleasures you had ever known.

the stretch returned, stronger now with the added width of his tongue exploring your most sensitive areas. the combined sensations of his fingers moving deep within you and the hot, expert flicks of his tongue made your body respond in ways that stole your breath. moans spilled from your lips, raw and uncontrolled, filling the quiet room with the wet, rhythmic sounds of your pleasure. every nerve was alive, tingling with the constant stimulation, and your skin felt electrified as waves of heat radiated from your core outward. your hands gripped the silk sheets and furs beneath you, fingers clutching and twisting the fabric as your muscles tensed and released in response to him.

without warning, a third finger appeared, hesitating only a moment before pressing toward your entrance. you gasped, eyes widening in surprise as he eased it inside, just the tip at first, then curling until only the knuckle remained visible. “it’s too much,” you whined, shaking your head, your body trembling from the sensation. the stretch burned intensely, a delicious ache that ran through your lower abdomen, making your hips shift toward him even as your mind tried to process the overwhelming pleasure.

his eyes lifted to meet yours, warm yet commanding, holding your gaze with a mixture of dominance and patience. “you can take it,” he said softly, letting his tongue flick against your most sensitive spot, teasing and igniting fire along every nerve. your thighs shook, quivering at the touch, and the sensation made your stomach tighten in anticipation. “gotta stretch you out more, dove,” he breathed, his fingers pressing deeper and curling with precision.

tears stung at the corners of your eyes from the intensity of sensations that seemed to consume every thought in your mind. your head fell back against the pillow as you surrendered to the pressure, muscles loosening in reluctant waves as your body adapted to the intrusion. Imagining his full weight inside you sent a fresh wave of heat through your veins, making your stomach clench and your thighs press instinctively against him.

he lingered in the motion, watching your reactions with a faint smirk, fascinated by the ease with which you surrendered and the way your body responded so naturally. there was a delicate sweetness to your submission, a mix of fragility and yearning that drew him closer, compelling him to explore every inch of your skin with care and precision. you felt the steady rhythm of his fingers, curling and thrusting, teasing the spot that had your senses spiralling, and your toes curled, gripping at the furs beneath you.

the fullness of him inside you made your stomach knot and spread a deep heat through your lower body, intensifying the fluttering ache in your chest. your cheek pressed into the pillow, hair falling in damp strands across your face, as your body moved in time with the curl of his fingers. a low moan escaped your lips, your head rolling slightly as you clung to the sensations, craving the stretch and the pressure that filled you completely. the pit in your stomach throbbed urgently, a constant reminder of the hunger growing inside you, urging your legs to part wider and begging silently for the pleasure to wash over you again.

your entire body shivered, trembling under the exquisite torment of every stroke, every curl, every flick of his tongue. you felt simultaneously stretched and consumed, raw yet electrified, and your chest rose and fell rapidly as waves of heat pulsed from your core outward. the sensation seemed endless, each moment building upon the last, making your mind fog with desire and your body ache with need. you could feel your muscles clench around him instinctively, a reaction to the pressure that drove you closer to the edge, and your lips parted in a soft, desperate gasp as every fiber of your being longed for more.

the combination of tongue and fingers drove you further into a haze of overwhelming sensation, your mind dissolving into the pleasure that roared through your body. your hands sought anchors in the sheets, your fingers digging into silk and fur as your hips shifted with instinctive movements, riding the rhythm of his fingers and tongue. every nerve burned with awareness, every pulse of heat radiating through your body as your core tightened and released in waves, making it impossible to think of anything beyond the exquisite torment that consumed you.

even as your body shivered, even as your breath hitched and moans spilled freely, your mind clung to the awareness of him watching, of him guiding you through the sensation with a careful, calculated attention that made you feel both exposed and cherished. you were lost entirely to the experience, every inch of you alive with sensation, every nerve screaming in both agony and ecstasy, craving nothing but the next wave of pleasure, the next curl, the next flick, the next stretch that would drive you further into the dizzying, consuming haze of bliss.

you cried out his name, voice trembling and breath ragged, as his fingers plunged deeply, moving with a steady, unyielding rhythm that pressed every nerve into sharp awareness. your hips bucked with a primal intensity, rising and falling against him as if your body had a mind of its own, nails clawing at the delicate silk and soft furs beneath you. each stroke drove waves of heat through your abdomen, spreading to your thighs, your chest, until every fiber of your body seemed to hum with sensation. you were lost in the pounding rhythm, in the relentless press of him against your most intimate places, every thrust pushing you closer to the brink.

the release came faster than you could anticipate, rushing through your veins in sharp, shivering bursts that left your body trembling as though the pleasure had anchored you entirely to the spot. your breath came in broken gasps, chest heaving as your eyes fluttered closed in sheer exhaustion, limbs splayed across the bedding in a posture both surrendering and desperate. even in that moment of collapse, your mind refused to let you fully relax. Not when there was still so much left of the night.

daemon leaned over you, sliding smoothly up your torso, lips slick with your own release as he licked the delicate skin clean, humming in appreciation at the taste. the warmth of him pressed against you, heightening the lingering ache between your legs, and your pulse raced as his fingers traced the lines of your body before bringing them up to your face. your eyes widened in shock as you realized just how much of your own essence coated his hands, a mix of embarrassment and desire flooding your senses. “taste,” he whispered, soft yet commanding, his gaze holding yours in unflinching scrutiny as he pressed two fingers against your lips.

your mouth opened, lips closing around the digits as your tongue brushed over them, tasting yourself in a way that was intimate and raw. the flavor was tart and metallic, sharp yet strange, like an unripened fruit, and a shiver of awareness ran through your spine as you realized just how much control he had over you. despite the initial hesitation, the sensation awakened something within you, a deep, tingling hunger that mingled with the lingering ache of your previous release. your lashes fluttered, eyes lifting to meet his as a mix of defiance and curiosity crossed your features, and you caught a hint of the pride and satisfaction flickering in his gaze.

daemon’s groan vibrated low in his chest, a sound that mirrored your own rising excitement, and you found yourself teasing the digits with your tongue, sucking gently, feeling the slick warmth against your lips. your heartbeat sped up, pounding in tandem with the rhythm of his hand and the pulse of his desire. he eased the fingers from your mouth, his eyes narrowing with a teasing glint as you had dared to nip at them. “not so innocent after all,” he hummed, the grin on his lips dangerous and magnetic, and your chest flushed at the acknowledgment.

without a pause, his hand traveled down to his thick, hardened length coated in his own undoing. the sight alone sent a fresh, sharp pulse through your core, making your thighs clench instinctively, almost trembling with need. the creamy liquid glistened in the low light, a tantalizing preview of the fullness you ached for, your lower body quivering in anticipation of what was to come. your stomach tightened in a coil of hunger and desire, every nerve alert, every muscle primed as you waited, eyes locked on him, knowing that the next moments would push you beyond anything you had ever imagined.

your breath hitched, lips parting slightly as the tension built unbearably between you. each subtle motion, each glance he offered, fanned the flames of your anticipation. you could feel yourself already responding, muscles tightening, core pulsing, desperate to be filled once more. the room was thick with heat, the scent of sex and your mingled essence heavy in the air, and you arched toward him instinctively, silently begging, needing, yearning for him to finally claim every part of you. the night was far from over, and already you knew your body would remember every inch of this intensity long after the first stroke had begun.

his hands gripped your thighs firmly, spreading them wider as he guided you down the bed so that your back pressed fully against the mattress. your breath hitched at the sensation of your legs being held apart, the firm weight of him pressing against you sending shivers straight through your core. the thick base of his cock rested at your dripping center, tapping lightly against the slick folds that had been aching for him. the size and girth of him were overwhelming, veined and powerful, a stark contrast to the delicate vulnerability of your own body. every pulse and twitch of his arousal pressed into you, your wetness sliding down your inner thighs, dripping onto the towel beneath you, soaking the fabric just enough to catch everything that escaped.

he leaned closer, the tip of him brushing against your clit. a startled whimper escaped your lips, your pulse hammering as your chest rose and fell rapidly. his gaze caught yours again, dark and commanding, pulling you under its weight. “this might sting,” he says, voice low and thick with something dangerous, a quiet promise wrapped in warning. he shifted slightly, angling himself and pressing the tip of him against your slick opening before pushing slowly.

oh gods. the stretch was unlike anything you had felt. the sting was sharp, a delicate bite of discomfort mingled with exquisite pressure. your nails dug into the soft fur and silk beneath you as you gasped, struggling to adjust to the fullness. just when you felt your eyes threatening to close from the intensity, his hand pressed gently but firmly against your chin, forcing your gaze to lock with his. “eyes on me,” he said, voice husky, controlled, holding back some of the raw force that thrummed through him. your lids fluttered, straining against the control, but you fought to keep them open, lost in the depth of his darkened eyes, letting his gaze anchor you as much as his body did.

he pressed further, inch by inch, and the sensation deepened. it was far beyond the stretch you had felt with his fingers, fuller and more consuming, a heady mixture of pain and pleasure. a whine slipped past your lips, light and needy, and your thighs tightened around him instinctively. you could feel the heat building between your legs, your core pulsating in reaction to every subtle movement, every angle of his hips as he settled inside you.

once he was fully sheathed within you, he paused, allowing the sensation to fully sink in. your chest rose and fell unevenly, eyes wide, reflecting a storm of emotion. lust coiled tightly with apprehension, mingling in a heady mix that left you breathless and trembling. you remembered the warnings about the line between pleasure and pain, how the two combined could create something intoxicating, and now you understood completely.

your body shifted, hips tilting, and a soft, needy moan escaped your lips. “please,” you begged, voice trembling, eyelashes fluttering as you gazed up at him. “i need—”

you couldn't finish the sentence before daemon responded. with a swift, commanding motion, he drew back and then slammed forward with one powerful thrust. your back arched against the mattress, a whine escaping your throat as the stretch and fullness intertwined in a deliciously sharp burn. your thighs squeezed around his hips reflexively, hands clutching at his powerful frame as he gripped your legs, bruising them slightly with the pressure. the movement sent your breasts bouncing, heaving with each forceful impact, skin tingling from the friction and intensity of his movements.

with another sharp thrust, just as strong as the first, your body jolted again, senses alight, every nerve on fire. the rhythm he set was relentless, his hips rolling with precision and strength, a mixture of raw power and intimacy that left your body trembling with need. the slick heat between you glistened under the low candlelight of the chamber, your skin flushed, breath catching with every motion as he drove deeper, filling you completely. each movement sent shockwaves through your core, intertwining pleasure with a sharp edge of pain that made you see stars, and you clung to him, nails sinking into his shoulders, thighs wrapped tight, fully lost in the sensation of him claiming every part of you.

your mind swirled with a mixture of surrender and urgency, unable to separate the sensations as he continued. the room felt impossibly hot, heavy with the scent of sex and desire. you could feel every pulse, every throb of his body inside yours, and with each powerful thrust, the pleasure escalated, coiling tighter around your chest, your stomach, your thighs. every inch of him stretched you in a way that was almost unbearable, yet intoxicating, leaving you breathless, whimpering, and entirely at his mercy.

his lips claimed your neck with a feral hunger, teeth grazing and nipping at the sensitive skin while his hands dug into your thighs and waist, holding you firmly against the mattress. every thrust sent shockwaves through your core, and the combination of his weight and precision made it impossible to escape the powerful pleasure radiating from inside you. your moans and whimpers blended into desperate cries of his name as your body clenched around him, each contraction drawing a deep groan from his throat. one hand moved up, nails dragging across the planes of his chest, leaving faint, shallow scratches that only seemed to ignite his desire further. his lips left the tender flesh of your neck in an instant, crashing against your own in a searing kiss, devouring your mouth with an urgency that made your senses reel.

you gasped and moaned against him, your hips arching involuntarily to meet each thrust as though your body knew exactly how to synchronize with his. the intensity of his movements was staggering, hitting you in ways that felt impossibly deep, brushing against the most sensitive parts of you with each roll and snap of his hips. the sting from earlier melted into a more profound, consuming pleasure, a sensation that pulled every nerve in your body taut while wrapping them in fiery ecstasy. steam from your combined heat rose around the two of you, cloaking the dimly lit chamber in a haze, leaving only him visible, a dark and commanding silhouette moving solely to the rhythm of your pleasure.

the familiar coil in your stomach intensified, stronger and more insistent than anything you had felt before. your vision blurred slightly as your head swam from the overwhelming sensations, and your body reacted instinctively, clinging to him and digging your nails into the silken sheets beneath you for grounding. daemon’s grunts and sharp breaths filled the air, a testament to his focus, yet he remained attuned to your body’s reactions, adjusting the angle and depth of his thrusts with careful precision to maximize your arousal. you were slipping further into a haze of lust, your words muddled, your eyes glazed with a sheen of overwhelming pleasure.

when your climax hit, it came with a force that stole your breath. your back arched, nails raking over his shoulders, and your thighs locked tight around his hips as your walls pulsed rhythmically, squeezing him with every shuddering spasm. yet, daemon did not relent. his movements grew rougher, hips snapping with a newfound intensity, each strike sending jolts of ecstasy coursing through you. tears blurred your vision, slipping unheeded down your cheeks, and he only responded with a low growl and a sharp chuckle, the sound vibrating through you. “look at how ruined you are,” he breathed, dark amusement underlining the demand in his voice. “how utterly fucked you look.”

the words made your core tighten even further, burning from repeated use, while your cries grew louder, unrestrained and raw. your body quivered uncontrollably beneath him, every nerve alive with overstimulation. the overwhelming sensations threatened to pull you apart, yet you were powerless to voice any complaint, your body responding instead in writhing arches and helpless gasps. each movement of his hips deepened your need, leaving your mind hazy, heart racing, and every inch of you saturated in pleasure that felt like it could never end. even as exhaustion tugged at your limbs, the relentless rhythm and heat of his body kept you teetering on the edge of sensory overload, completely consumed by the overwhelming intensity of the night.

your nails dug into him, your hands clawing helplessly as a wave of heat rolled through you, threatening to tear you apart. “dae—” you choked, voice cracking, your vision clearing just enough to lock on his dark gaze. “i can’t—”

“you can,” daemon growled, his voice low and commanding, vibrating against your ear as he slammed into you with a force that seemed almost otherworldly. each thrust drove deep, filling you so completely that you swore you could feel it in your bones. your chest heaved, lungs burning as your sobs and cries mixed with ragged moans. tears streamed freely down your cheeks, hot and unrelenting, as your walls clenched and quivered around him, desperate to take him again and again.

with each savage thrust, your senses fractured further. a sharp burn laced through your core, mixing with the sweet, burning pleasure that had been building from the very start of the night. your body arched uncontrollably, hips pushing against him without thought or control, nails scratching deep into his skin as if to anchor yourself to something solid. then, a scream tore from your throat, raw and trembling, as another orgasm crashed through you, your walls gripping him painfully, your muscles pulsing with relentless insistence.

even as that wave faded, another prickling heat surged immediately behind it, stealing what little breath you had left. your limbs felt weak, heavy with overstimulation, yet the unrelenting pace of daemon’s hips drove you higher, deeper, until the room seemed to shrink around the two of you. tears continued to streak your cheeks, your hair wild and knotted from thrashing and grinding, your body a chaotic mix of pleasure and raw exhaustion. you probably looked like a mess, and you didn’t care. every nerve was alive, ablaze with the sensation of him moving inside you, never letting you forget the sheer magnitude of what was happening.

by the time he slowed, you had lost count of how many times your body had convulsed beneath him. your mind was fogged, your limbs heavy, and every inch of your body hummed with the lingering ache of relentless stimulation. you lay beneath him, gasping, moaning, and whimpering, body slick with sweat and slick fluid, still trembling with the remnants of pleasure and pain intermingled. your thighs quivered as he pressed into you, each movement sending fresh sparks of sensation across every nerve in your body.

your lips parted in a ragged plea, and daemon leaned in, lips hot against yours and along your neck, kissing with feral hunger, sloppy and demanding, tasting the remnants of your release. “one more,” he breathed, brushing the tears from your cheeks with one calloused hand, his other gripping your bruised hip as he thrust slowly, raggedly now, each movement uneven but perfectly matched to the shivers racing through you. his breath was heavy, panting in your ear, his body tense and twitching as his own climax approached.

your body shuddered violently at the impending eruption, a mewl escaping your lips as the final orgasm washed over you in a wave of dizzying bliss. limbs trembled, muscles spasmed, and your brain felt untethered, drifting in the haze of sensation. the world was nothing but the heat of his body and the pounding rhythm of his thrusts, until one long, powerful movement drove him over the edge. you felt the warmth and weight of him filling you fully as his climax coursed through him, shaking him against you, leaving you utterly spent, glazed with exhaustion, and floating in the quiet aftermath of total surrender.

you barely registered him slipping away, or the trail of sweat, fluids, and lingering heat that remained on the towel. your mind felt clouded, hovering somewhere between dream and reality, and your body felt foreign beneath you. you didn’t notice the soft rustle of the ointment-soaked cloth, the gentle scent of lavender and herbs filling the air, or the way he knelt beside you, brushing his hand through your tangled hair with care. your senses only began to reorient when a cool, damp touch pressed against your over-sensitive skin between your thighs, forcing a startled flinch from your body.

“shh,” daemon hushed, lips brushing your forehead, calm and grounding. his hand moved slowly, cleaning you with a precision that made each touch calculated yet tender, careful not to aggravate the soreness. the cloth brushed against your clit, causing a sharp wince, but he paused just long enough to soothe it, murmuring reassurance against your ear. “you’re alright. i've got you.”

your eyes stayed closed as he worked, flinching only minimally, allowing yourself to be cared for. you didn’t look at the rag once it was discarded into the now-cold tub, not wanting to witness the proof of your messy release, the blood, the fluids, the evidence of your body’s surrender. some things were better left unseen.

by the time he finished, the dizziness had faded, and clarity returned, like fog lifting from a dense morning. you blinked slowly, letting your gaze find him as he remained kneeling on the bed, pants back in place but chest bare, the scratches you had left visible against his pale skin. you noticed the faint rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, the way his muscles tensed and relaxed, the heat of his presence lingering in the space around you. your own skin ached in response, bruised in places that reminded you of every desperate, hungry motion of the night.

he tossed the cloth into the tub and stood, smooth and commanding even in his casual movements. your heart tightened as you watched him, knowing that he could leave if he wished. and leave he would, for he was a prince with duties and responsibilities beyond a brothel’s walls. you, in contrast, were a whore. that word clung to your chest like a stone, heavy and immovable. you couldn’t forget it. you had no claim to a life beyond this, no hope of a future wrapped in love and safety. your dreams of being a wife, of being cherished, had been stripped away long before tonight.

the thought pressed down hard, and before you realized it, tears had begun to fall again. this time they were not borne from the intensity of pleasure, but from the deep, aching emptiness inside you. the longing for a life that would never be yours, the grief for chances lost and innocence stolen, all pooled in your chest. a choked sob rose in your throat, and you quickly covered your mouth, unwilling for him to hear. you did not want him to think he had caused your sadness.

he had been incredible. the sensations, the intimacy, the overwhelming, consuming pleasure had been everything you could imagine. your body remembered every motion, every touch, every deep, burning thrust, even as soreness crept along your thighs and hips. it was a good ache, proof of what had passed between you. yet even as you remembered, reality grounded itself. this had been a gift, a single night in which a prince had descended into your life and claimed you in a way no one else could. it would not last. it could not last. he had duties, expectations, a world outside these walls. you were merely a distraction, a fleeting moment of indulgence in his night.

and so you lay there, trembling slightly, soaked in the aftermath of passion and regret, staring at the far wall as the silence settled between you. your body was sated, your mind hazy, but your heart knew the truth: what you had shared was extraordinary, but temporary. he had given you more than pleasure; he had left you with a memory that would linger long after he was gone. and even as sorrow and longing pooled within you, a small part of your chest ached in a quiet, desperate hope that perhaps one day, someone would see you differently. but for now, that hope would remain buried beneath the weight of reality, and the memory of daemon’s hands, lips, and fire.

you shifted slightly, intending to rise and relieve yourself, but the moment your leg moved, a sharp, searing pain shot through your hips and thighs, leaving you frozen in place. a cry escaped your lips, high and startled, and you opened your eyes wide, blinking against the haze that still clouded your mind. the intensity of the sensation was more than you had anticipated. you had expected soreness, every fiber of your body had already screamed with reminders of the night, but this pain carried with it a weight that stole your breath and made every attempt to move unbearable.

before you could even process the discomfort fully, gentle hands encircled you, lifting and steadying you with a strength that was firm yet careful. you realized in that moment that daemon had not left but had remained close, watching over you through every vulnerable instant. the thought stung, a mixture of embarrassment and relief pressing at your chest. relief, because he had stayed. embarrassment, because your body was now a tangled, aching mess, incapable of doing something as simple as standing without assistance.

“steady,” he breathed, voice low and grounding, threading calm through the storm of your nerves. his hands were patient as he guided you, supporting your trembling limbs as you indicated the chamber pot near the bed. without hesitation, he set you down carefully, his presence firm and protective. he turned to face the opposite wall, allowing you the privacy you desperately needed, and you let out a breath as you attempted to relieve yourself.

the moment came, and it was not as simple as you had imagined. your body, still tender and overstimulated from the intensity of last night, betrayed you, letting more than just urine slip out. you cringed, shame blooming hot and bright in your cheeks, your hands gripping the sides of the pot as your limbs shook under the strain. when you tried to stand afterward, your body refused, your muscles uncooperative and brittle from exertion. a whimper slipped past your lips and you felt daemon spin around to attend to you. his brow furrowed with concern, and he moved swiftly to help you, hands gentle as he lifted and steadied you.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered, the words barely audible, your hands clutching at him for balance as he eased you back toward the bed.

“why are you apologizing?” daemon asked, incredulity threading his tone. he lowered his gaze to meet yours, eyes dark and sharp, but softened at the edges. “i should be the one saying that. gods, i ruined you,” he added, a laugh breaking through that carried less amusement than it tried to, more of a raw acknowledgment of the intensity of what had just transpired.

your face flushed at his words, warmth climbing across your cheeks and neck. you cleared your throat, trying to steady your breath as the memory of the night’s events still pulsed through every nerve. “i liked it,” you admitted softly, voice trembling slightly yet honest. you looked up at him, a small, vulnerable smile brushing your lips. “i wouldn’t have wanted anyone else to take my virginity. i don’t think anyone could ever compare,” you continued, a quiet laugh escaping you, airy and breathless, tinged with disbelief.

even as you said it, your chest tightened with the truth. the coupling had been overwhelming, intoxicating, unlike anything you had experienced before, and your body still quivered from the memory. you realized with a sharp pang that no other man could ever measure up. daemon had set a standard impossible to meet, a fire you had never known and a passion that had consumed you entirely. your limbs still ached, your skin still tingled from every motion, and yet there was a strange comfort in knowing that he had stayed, that his hands had guided you, steadied you, and offered solace in the aftermath.

you sank back against the pillows, letting yourself breathe fully, eyes tracing the outline of his form. even shirtless and weary, he carried himself with a presence that left you both awe-struck and unashamedly vulnerable. there was no pretence here, no games; just the lingering heat, the tender aftermath, and the undeniable fact that, for all your doubts and fears, you had found a connection that no other could replicate. and though your body throbbed with soreness and your heart swelled with longing, you felt, for the first time in a long while, a strange and quiet contentment in being seen, desired, and wholly claimed by him, if only for a single night.

a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as his gaze lingered on you, a glimmer of amusement and something softer, almost unreadable, flickering in his eyes. “mhm,” he hummed, the sound low and approving, and then he moved silently toward your discarded silken gown. his fingers brushed over the delicate fabric with care, lifting it as if it were fragile glass, before sliding it back over your head. the material, cold against your still-sensitive skin, sent a shiver racing through your spine, and you instinctively wrapped the fur blanket tighter around your shoulders, pressing it up to your chin.

you were about to lay back, sinking into the mattress with a sigh of relief, when his gaze caught yours, sharp and unnervingly intent. you frowned, tilting your head slightly. “what?” you asked, curiosity mixing with unease.

“what are you doing?” he asked, his voice low, teasing but serious, sending a ripple of tension through you. your eyes darted down to your body, then to the bed beneath you, and back up at him. “going to bed,” you replied slowly, tilting your head in thought, your tone careful. “i have an early day tomorrow, and i’m sure my master will want to hear every detail of tonight.” a wave of dread pressed against your chest as the thought struck you. the notion that you were now labeled and cataloged in some cruel hierarchy of availability made your stomach twist with unease. you pressed the blanket closer around yourself, trying to shield both your body and your emotions.

the look he gave you didn’t soften. instead, it held that same intensity, that same quiet assertion that made your skin prickle. without a word, he moved closer, and in one smooth motion, lifted the blanket from your shoulders. a rush of cool air hit your damp skin, causing another shiver to ripple through you. “daemon, what—” you gasped, but he cut you off, pulling you toward him, this time holding you more securely than before. the firmness of his arms pressed you gently against him, and the heat of his body seeped through the thin layers of silk, grounding you in a mix of shock, comfort, and a strange relief. you clung to him instinctively, your eyebrows raised in silent question.

“do you have anything of importance here?” he asked suddenly, his voice low and thoughtful. the question caught you completely off guard. you blinked, confused, then glanced toward the small wooden shelf in the corner of the room. a silver necklace lay there, delicate but unmistakable, its pendant a small white doe. the piece was the last remnant of your mother, a fragile, tangible memory of someone who had once held you close. you pointed to it softly, your heart tightening.

daemon’s movements were deliberate and careful. he reached for the necklace, lifting it from the shelf with a reverence that made your chest ache. you felt him adjust you slightly, pulling your hair out of the way, and then he fastened the chain around your neck. the pendant rested lightly against your chest, warm from the contact, almost as if it belonged there by right. a rush of emotion flooded you; gratitude, nostalgia, and a sharp pang of sorrow. You pressed your hand to it, feeling the cool metal against your palm, and closed your eyes, allowing yourself a single, quiet moment to remember and to breathe.

“thank you,” you whispered, your voice soft and trembling just a fraction. it was more than a courtesy; it was a confession of relief and appreciation, of a feeling that someone, at least for this moment, understood the weight of your past and the fragility of your present. though you usually kept the necklace tucked away for fear of theft or loss, you made a mental note to keep it close at all times now, a small talisman of memory, comfort, and the unexpected care of someone who, despite everything, had chosen to hold you tenderly in the aftermath of the chaos that had passed.

you felt your stomach tighten as daemon carried you through the threshold, every step echoing against the stone walls of the hallway. your face burned hot, a mix of embarrassment and residual excitement from the night, and you pressed your head closer into his chest, hoping to hide, though you knew that the sound of your moans had likely already traveled through the hallways. the thought made you wince slightly, cheeks flushing deeper, and you squeezed your eyes shut, wishing for invisibility.

the firmness of his grip around you, the heat radiating from his chest, and the slow, confident rhythm of his steps made your heart pound in a way that left you both flustered and strangely comforted. you tried to remind yourself that this was real, that you weren’t dreaming, but the surreal nature of the moment kept you dizzy with disbelief. your mind flicked back to your first days in the brothel, when you were too timid to wear anything but your own faded clothes and kept your gaze lowered, trying not to attract attention. now, even wrapped in a silk gown and fur blanket, all eyes would surely be on you, and you couldn’t stop the nervous tremor that ran through your body.

the quiet tension of the stone passageway was broken by a familiar shout that cut through the night air. “hey!” your master stumbled into view, pants half undone, a look of both surprise and indignation plastered across his face. it was obvious he had been interrupted mid-task, his movements frantic and uncoordinated. “where do you think you’re taking her?” he demanded, his voice trembling somewhere between rage and confusion.

you froze for a second, utterly bewildered. where was he taking you?

daemon’s attention barely flickered toward the balding man. he tilted his head, that infuriating, self-assured grin spreading across his face. “i’m taking her home,” he said simply, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

the words hit you like a jolt of electricity. your body stiffened, and you clutched him tighter, still pressed against his chest, unsure if you should be overjoyed or terrified. your master’s reaction mirrored your shock, but instead of understanding, the man flushed crimson with anger. “the hell you are! she’s about to be the star of the brothel! everyone wants to bang a targaryen,” he spat, though he added begrudgingly, “even if she isn’t full-blooded.” the mention of your father’s rumored heritage stirred a strange knot of pride and discomfort in your chest.

before he could protest further, you saw daemon reach into his pocket, fingers fumbling briefly before he pulled out a small, heavy sack. without hesitation, he tossed it toward your master, who caught it with wide eyes. your breath hitched as the bag spilled open, revealing a pile of glittering gold coins. the sheer amount made your jaw drop, and your stomach lurched at the sight. the coins clinked against each other, a metallic symphony that seemed to seal the deal without another word.

“that should cover your loss,” daemon called over his shoulder without breaking stride, his steps steady as he carried you forward. the pressure of his grip on you tightened slightly, a subtle reminder that you were completely in his control, that you were his.

you lifted your gaze to meet his, mouth parting as a swirl of emotions rushed through you. “what… what did you do?” you whispered, voice trembling as a fresh wave of tears pooled in your eyes.

his eyes softened as they met yours, a rare vulnerability glimmering beneath the usual mischief and arrogance. stepping into the cool night air, he pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose, his lips warm against your sensitive skin. “i made you mine,” he said softly, the words heavy with ownership, protection, and promise. the simplicity of the phrase sent shivers down your spine, and you let your body relax against him, trusting, finally, that the chaos of the past weeks could be left behind.

you felt the night air brush against your exposed shoulders and the soft brush of his hands adjusting the blanket around you. the world beyond the stone passageway faded, only the sound of his heartbeat and the warmth of his body against yours existing. each step toward your new home felt like both a beginning and an escape, a reclamation of something that had been taken from you long ago. the city lights glimmered faintly ahead, but the only light you truly noticed was the one emanating from him, steady and unwavering, a presence that promised safety, desire, and ownership in equal measure.

in that moment, carried through the night by the man who had claimed you, everything else fell away. this was your life now, and for the first time, it felt like it could belong entirely to you.

happilyhertale

His little Dragon - Daemon Targaryen x daughter!reader

Summary: Tonight the lords of the realm come to court a Targaryen princess. Unfortunately for them, she is also the daughter of Daemon Targaryen. While Rhaenyra plans alliances and marriages, Daemon watches every man who dares approach her with growing displeasure. And the Rogue Prince has never been particularly good at sharing.

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x daughter!reader

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Fingering; Sex (p in v);

Author’s note:

This is part of the ‘We can make them worse’ project, which was launched in collaboration with some wonderful mutuals and focuses on morally highly questionable men whom many people shame others for enjoying – so let your freak flag fly.

I was asked to write this story a long time ago, and now seems to be the perfect time to post it.

English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 6.4 k

Other stories of Daemon Targaryen

The quiet grumbling that escapes Daemon whenever the subject of his eldest daughter arises echoes faintly through the corridor as he and Rhaenyra walk toward the great hall. By now she knows that sound well enough to recognize the displeasure behind it without needing another word from him. His expression alone is enough — the tension in his jaw, the dark look in his eyes.

She reaches for his hand almost absentmindedly as they walk, hoping to calm the irritation she knows is simmering beneath his silence. Yet before her fingers can touch his, his hand shifts ever so slightly, the movement subtle but deliberate enough to make it clear that he does not want the contact.

“This is all your fault,” he mutters under his breath.

Rhaenyra knows perfectly well what he means by fault, though she refuses to accept the accusation.

“Fault?” she asks coolly, turning her head toward him. “Fault because I wish to find a suitable betrothed for your daughter?”

Daemon’s head snaps toward her, silver hair shifting with the movement.

“For wanting to take her away from—”

The words come out harsher than he intends, and he stops himself before finishing the sentence, though the rest of it hangs between them unspoken. Rhaenyra does not need to hear the end to understand it.

From me.

feytouchedink

Masterlist for FeyTouchedInk

Multifandom, but currently fixated on BG3, Critical Role, and LoTR My AO3: feytouchedink

Currently Writing: What You Deny: A Thranduil x Reader Longfic

Ships

Thranduil x Reader

(Gif Credit: ENIGMA on Pinterest)

What You Deny – Thranduil x half elf!Reader (Updating Fridays)

tonycries

Older - N.K.

Synopsis. Your duties as a nanny are simple: pick Itadori Yuji up from elementary school, bathe him, feed him his veggies, and take care of him until his hot blond dad gets home. It doesn’t include something like…spending Valentine’s Day with the overworked, overstressed, absolute DlLF Nanami Kento. Does it? Does it?

Pairing. Nanami Kento x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!reader, older!Nanami, age gap, DlLF!Nanami, reader is in early 20’s, Nanami is in 30’s, he’s overworked and STRESSED, down bad!Nanami, desperation, Valentine’s Day, pùssydrùnk Nanami, oraI (fem rec.), p talking, p sIapping, punishments, dégrading but also soft Nanami, spítting, bíting, fíngering, yearning, teaching you, fírst times (yours), Iessons, talking you through it, he’s stern, he’s BIG, BRÉEDlNG BRÉEDlNG BRÉEDlNG, matíng presses, manhandIing, cervíx smoochin, overstím, vírginíty loss (yours), corruption, he’s feraI, DÚMBIFlCATION, calling you ‘momma’, mentions of kids, implied marathon, HEADLÓCKS, creampíes, cúmpIay, Yuji cameos, Papamin, HAPPY ENDING, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 15.7k

A/N. BOO! SURPRISE VALENTINE’S DAY POST?! HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY BABYGIRLS <33

Nanami can’t help but sigh—“One more meeting and I’m quitting.”

Even though he knows he wouldn’t.

Those boxed-in, white-collar jobs felt just as lukewarm to quit as they were to work. One learns to numb oneself to the constant drone and sputter of the office, the ceaseless fury of a microwave that wouldn’t heat, and the wail of a printer printing listlessly furlong - too far behind its service date. So was there even a point?

That stupid screech followed him even out of the office: one could ignore the cracks and jolts of joints, but that doesn’t actually stop the noise.

He feels a headache coming on.

But Nanami can’t lie- the pay wasn’t all too bad. Besides, the extra hours helped him pay for the nanny he’d recently hired for Yuji—speaking of, he could hear you shuffling about inside.

His key’s just reaching for the door before it swings wide open.

“Welcome home—!”

And Nanami Kento can’t understand that strange, sweet flutter in his heart.

SOMEONE PLEASE

Create content about Duncan Vizla, I beg you. He's such an underrated character of our beloved Mads, he deserves more.

Like, LOOK AT HIM

He's so cute, AND HOT, we need more content of him, idc if it's a one shot, fanfic, headcanon, I literally need ANYTHING (and if it's 👅 I would be really glad 😋).

Like, I wanna cover up his face all over with kisses, he just needs some love 😭💗

#duncan vizla x reader #mads mikkelsen x reader #hannibal lecter x reader #le chiffre x reader #mads mikkelsen #duncan vizla #hannibal #le chiffre #Polar

lonelyspadez

𝐖𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝

Warnings: Dark!Duncan Vizla x F!reader, noncon/dubcon, kidnapping, forced pregnancy, Death of a minor character, mentions of blood. (MDNI)

Summary: Make or Break. Your choice.

The snowy glaze appearing at the front, like yesterday, seemed eternal. Its touch caresses the mountains with layers that have been built up for months now. On some lonely nights, you could hear the howl of wolves residing in the forestry or a hoot of an owl during mating season. Either way, you missed being outside. There’s nothing in this world that you wouldn’t trade to spend outside alone, even for a second.

With a slight creak, you carefully made your way down to the office space where he’d kept the pictures of the animals. You used to be in the field of photography. Keyword: Used. It was the only hobby and job that you loved doing the most. On special occasions, you would send these photos back to your mother. She was the only person that supported your career and encouraged you to travel the world. Seek out the knowledge or secrets as they say. But you couldn’t have been more wrong in your life with that decision alone.

When you first arrived at the town of Triple Oak, most of its residents were welcoming and warm. The lady next door during your first stay invited you over at her house for a delicious slice of peach cobbler pie. Plus, you made new friends. The memory of huddling around a campfire while telling all kinds of myths and fables about the town’s origin made your heart ache. You missed them, all of them. But deep down, you knew you weren’t allowed to see them anymore. Not without his permission.

“(Y/N)!” Katie’s voice cried out your name desperately. Panic took its hold over you as you watched your other friends bound and blindfolded. All about to be slaughtered like lambs and fed to the hounds.

“Wait! Please, please, don’t do this.” You pleaded with Duncan, the binds biting against your skin.

His remorseless gaze looked over at the chamber of the gun before reloading it with a full mag. The sound of a click made it all the more worse for all of you as he pointed it towards her. The whimpers and sobs of your friends crescendoed to which amplified the chaos and helplessness of being held at gunpoint. You begged and screamed for him to stop, all the while, aimlessly struggling against your binds in hopes to save your friend. With a loud bang, the world around you stopped for a moment, everything was silent. A pool of thick, red liquid leaked from her head as she laid there motionlessly. Her lifeless eyes stared back at yours like a haunted doll. This was all your fault. You foolishly thought you could escape from him without any consequences. Now here you were, feeling the numbness taking over your mind like a thick fog. Each and every shot ringing in your ear seems distant now. Pushing you away from the current situation and taking you someplace far, far away.

You didn’t realize it had fallen so silent that the only sound in the place was the wind gently going past your small form. He firmly grasped your chin to tilt it upwards, meeting with his own. He could see through the broken veil that now had a hold over your mind and soul. Those narrowed gaze peered in to see the bleeding, beating heart residing at the gaping pit of her traumatized soul. With a gentle kiss on her forehead, he pulled away to cut off her binds and carry her back to the cabin.

“Why?” Your voice cracking slightly.

“Because you are mine.” Not once looking down at your pitiful form in his hold.

You held the blanket around you loosely as you roved over the pictures of wild animals. Each one captured by the lens last week through an open window. The only time you could ever get quality-captured ones is if you were at the balcony or at the front porch. Unbeknownst to you, Duncan's taller and larger frame loomed over yours from behind as you flipped through each photo with admiration.

“Couldn’t sleep, kleine blume?” The deep baritone of his voice cutting through your moment of tranquility.

Your blood runs cold from his voice alone, making it harder for you to turn around but eventually, you did. You didn't dare look him in the eye because if you did, it would be like looking back at the void. The soulless gaze reminding you that reason is out of the window. If your words didn't affect him, maybe your touch?

With shaky hands, you set aside the pictures and reached out to him. Even with his one eye, he could still see so much of you. What you were feeling and thinking. It was inescapable.

He gently took in your smaller hand with his large, calloused ones. Placing it on his chest while his other arm sneaked under the blanket and securely placed themselves around your waist, pulling you closer to him. The contrast between his cold look and his gentler actions confuses you on a daily.

“You know, it's bad for the baby to stay up this late, kleiner vogel.” An undertone of menace hidden within the light scolding.

And there it is. The punishment veiled by his feigned worry. It's a trap. However, having learned your lesson in the past, the quickness of your comebacks save you everytime.

“I was having cravings.”

“Of pictures?” His eyebrow raised.

“Why not? They're pretty.”

He chuckles at this, clearly amused by the banter between you. The vibrations from his chest make you feel warm much to your dismay. You should be resisting against him, shout at him, or curse at him for putting you in this position in the first place. But what good would that do? He's already tied you to his godforsaken soul the moment he shot his seed within you. You sigh out at this, laying your head softly on his chest with a resigned fate.

“Anything I can do for you and Ishka?” He inquires gruffly. Petting your head softly as if to reassure you.

There's a simmering anger bubbling beneath your chest, threatening to roar at the man who's going to be your baby's father. You want to tell him that you want to be free from this life and that you would rather die than be chained to him and his child. But, Ishka.. Oh, Ishka..

As much as you don’t like to admit it, you’ve grown to love and attach yourself to your unborn child. The moment that life within you has made its first breath is the final nail in the coffin. Which is why you need to strengthen yourself for this baby. If you can't, you won't survive. You already had pieces of yourself gobbled like a buffet. It’s only a matter of time before the vultures have a pick at the rest of you.

“Can we rest by the fireplace for tonight?” Your innocent gaze peering up at him.

The corners of his lips tug up into a small smile before nodding. He scoops you into his arms, careful not to squish you against him. You absentmindedly nuzzle against the crook of his neck. Which earns you an appreciative grumble, akin to a hound's grumble. Delicately, he places you down onto a makeshift blanket with pillows scattered about. He pulls away to get a blanket and more pillows for the both of you. You cradle the small bump forming along your stomach. Tracing the outline as you made yourself comfortable amongst the pillows. From the corner of your eye, you see a sharp object laying flat on a table, the metal glinting dimly in the moonlight. You then wonder what it’s like to end the vitality of another. All of their dreams and secrets dying along with them, rotting away in the earthly hell that we call soil.

Take it, take your revenge. End the beast. He is a plague that must be eradicated.

Your inner demon whispers to you these words with pure temptation. Almost eager to see the blood spilled and the darkness dissipating from your life once you’ve squashed it like a grimy parasite. But there’s something stopping you from doing it. There’s a sickly feeling that settles within your stomach at the thought. It is dense and suffocating like tar.

You would be no better than the beast who has held you captive for months.

The feeling of beefy arms caging you close to him pulls you out of your train of thoughts. You turn to him, caressing his peppered beard with your small hands.

“Something's troubling you, meine liebe.”

“I'm just tired is all.” The excuse is plain as day, but casual enough to cover up your thoughts.

This response would soon prove to be your downfall as his hands are holding your legs down; spreading them apart, while you mewl and leave small gasps from the way he toys the bundle of nerves resting at your mound. With your wrists bound together above your head, you make small huffs of frustration, desperate to end the game he forces you to play. It's not fair with the way he makes your hole weep with such expertise that would probably leave you an incoherent mess by the end of this session.

“Tell me.” He growls against your clit. The vibrations send your mind into haywire.

He then presses in one of his thick fingers against your tight walls, making you buck in desperate need for that familiar high. Generously, he adds in another one for you to feel the delicious burn, your head thrown back against the plush pillow.

“Ngh–! No..” Breathlessly denying his demand.

“Have it your way then.” Withdrawing his fingers and mouth from your wet mound. Your walls clenching and unclenching for nothing.

“Wait, wait,” Desperately stopping him before he leaves you high and dry.

He stops midway to look down at you, awaiting your response. Your chest rising and falling as desperation can be seen from your gaze. Although, the reluctance is clear as well. You don’t want to admit that you need him or his mouth or his fingers to partake in your ruin. Leaving you at a vulnerable spot, the corners of your eyes fill with the familiar sting followed by a trail of a teardrop. The warmth emitted by the fireplace does nothing to comfort the coldness of your heart. He never wanted you to win in the first place. He will always come out as the victor and the conqueror.

Too distracted by your own anguish, he watches your reaction with a frown. Sitting up, he leans over to brush some of the tears away while whispering sweet-nothings. He frees the binds and kisses your wrists softly as if you were made out of porcelain.

“kleine blume, please tell me what's wrong.”

His voice is softer than you had ever heard it before. However, your trust issues prevented you from fully believing it. It was too good to be true. After all, there's a price for everything with him. And then there's that little voice in the back of your head, equipped with sizzling anger that ignites the spark within you. Nagging you to take the knife and slice his throat open. The thought makes you giggle, a certain madness grasping your rational thought.

Oh where has my mind gone?

You gaze up at him with a smidge of insanity that permeates the light within your eyes. A spark that surprises him but knows all too well. It's a look that younger assassins would have when they would hunt down a target. The thrill of the hunt. Although, he could entertain the idea of you trying to kill him. He would love it. Maybe his little flower has thorns after all.

In swift action, you manage to flip him onto his back, straddling his waist while your hands are placed on his shoulders to hold him down. The action itself unphased Duncan, as if you are boring him with your actions– ultimately pissing you off even more. However, beneath the stoicism lies pride and excitement. The taste for blood feels sweet on the tip of your tongue– too sweet, in fact. Similar to a drug that makes you giddy, but feel like shit the next morning. Quick on your feet, you managed to get a grip on the knife and turn to find Duncan standing close to you. With the blade in hand, you apply pressure to his skin, the tip of the blade stained with a deep scarlet and yet, he does not move.

“Do it, (Y/N).” Inviting you to end his vitality.

You try to, but for some reason you can’t. A lump in your throat forms at the thought of continuing on. The blade shakes within your grip and eventually it falls beneath you, clattering on the wooden surface. You release a shaky breath as another wave of tears come and go. He pulls you in for another hug and you cling onto him tightly as if he was your only lifeline. Amidst the string of apologies from you and his hushed coos, do you realize that you love him. When you part your lips to tell him of such bold declaration, Duncan swoops down to capture your lips. You moan into it, letting his tongue brush over yours as he lifts you up, holding your rear while your legs wrap themselves around his waist. He lowers both of you near the fireplace before pulling away to suck at your peaked breasts. Your hand tangles into his peppered hair while the other is on his shoulder blade.

“Take me, take me, please.” Begging for him to fill you up.

Obligingly, he pushes into your tight hole with a groan, the thickness of it filling you to the brim that it makes you roll your eyes back in pleasure. Carefully, he rolls his hips against yours, the fat tip hitting your cervix with precision. Bringing you closer to that hot rush of a climax.

“Meine süße kleine Blume, du fühlst dich so gut. So verdammt eng. Ich werde dich nie gehen lassen.”

The possessiveness laced in these words cause you to cry out his name. Your toes curling as you press against him. His hips stutter before releasing his seed within your womb. He doesn't pull away for a moment, relishing in the afterglow. In the steady silence and soft ticking of the grandfather clock, one thing is constant in your mind.

You've got him wrapped around your finger.

inlovewithquestionablecharacters

Hey,

Do you still take Hannibal requests? If you do, could you please write a story, where Hannibal get‘s very jealous after a night out in the opera. The reader had finally met Franklyn, who is very interested in her ( because she‘s friends with Hannibal and part of the cheese folk).Hannibal is visibly angry when they are back in their opera seats… Could you also please end it with smut ( if you are comfortable with that).Thanks for considering!<3

Jealousy, Jealousy

Hannibal Lector x Reader:

Warnings:smut, biting, kissing, penetration (p in v), fingering, possessive behaviour, public sex, unwanted flirting (from Franklin), fluff, happy ending, no use of y/n, female reader

Word count:2,9K

A/n: Hey Hon thanks for the request i hope you like it!

Hannibal is pissed. No scratch that. He’s seething. But you can’t see it. No one can. He’s just that good at hiding it. Even so, everyone has a breaking point.

This was Hannibals.

Franklin had met you at the last opera you and Hannibal had gone to and from that moment it seemed he had grown some sort of infatuation with you. Hannibal always loathed his sessions with Franklin, his ever growing desire to be Hannibal’s friends making the doctor rather uncomfortable, but he never imagined it could get worse. Boy was he mistaken. It seemed like Franklin couldn’t utter a single sentence without mentioning your name. Hannibal watched him dance around the subject for days until he finally got to the point.

“You think you could give me her number?”

“I'm sorry?”

“Her number. I wanted to ask if she’d be free for some wine tasting but I don't know how to reach her. And then I thought you must have her number since you two seem close.”

“I don’t think she’d be interested.”

“Oh well maybe you could give me it anyway and i could ask-”

“I will not be giving you her number and that is final.”

An eerie silence took over the room. Hannibal watched Franklin open and close his mouth silently before settling back into his chair. It seemed clear to Hannibal that his patient had finally gotten the message.

Once again he was wrong.

You were nursing a glass of wine that Hannibal had picked out for you as your eyes studied the opera house. Hannibal was next to you, his body mare inches from yours but not close enough to allow contact. You watched people come up to Hannibal in greeting before quickly going away.

“As always you’re quite the topic.”

inlovewithquestionablecharacters

Hannibal Masterlist

Hannibal Lector

Hannibal: An ethical issue 🫣

Hannibal: Us lonely few🫣🥰

Hannibal: Jealousy, jealousy 🥰🫣 (request)

Hannibal : Everything is gray 🥰🫣 (request)

Hannibal: Temptation 🫣(request)

Hannibal: Off limits 🫣 (request)

Hannibal: Stitches and sweet kisses🥰🫣 (request)

Hannibal: Tender beginnings 🥰🫣 (request)

Hannibal: Teachers pet🥰🫣 (request)

Hannibal: Cravings 🫣

Hannibal: The thrill 🫣 (request)

Hannibal: Office hours 🫣 (request)

Hannibal: I did it for love (request)

Hannibal: What's mine is mine 🫣 (request)

Hannibal: Unexpected infatuation🫣 (request)

Hannibal: The friend we make along the way (request)

Hannibal: Motivation 🫣 (request)

Hannibal: A bit of relaxation 🫣 (request)

Hannibal: Words on paper 🫣 (request)

Hannibal: Homecoming 🫣 (request)

Hannibal: Friend or foe? (request)

Hannibal: Father Figure (request)

Hannibal: Perfectly imperfect 🥰(request)

Hannibal: Musical connection (request)

Hannibal: The name game (request)

Hannibal: Beware (request)

Will Graham

Will: Nightcap 🥰🫣

Will: Academic Validation 🫣

Will: Tethered 🥰🫣

Will and Hannibal

Will/Hannibal: In another life 🥰🥲 (request)

Will/Hannibal: Saviors🥰🥲

inlovewithquestionablecharacters

Too sweet for me

Duncan Vizla X Reader

Warning: smut, porn with little plot, oral (f receiving) , face sitting, penetration (p in v), fluff, little bit of angst, age gap (not specified) no use of y/n, pet names (dove, darling)

A/n: Mads has no right looking this hot

“You must be bored out of your fucking mind.”

That's how you’d picked up his call. No ‘hello’. No ‘how are you?’. Just straight to the point. He supposed he deserved it. It had been his call to end all forms of contact and you hadn’t been too pleased with the decision. He had to admit he was starting to regret it too. The cold was making his miss your warmth and the silence that surrounded him, making him crave your voice.

“I want you to come here.”

“Where? To that fucking cabin in the middle of nowhere?”

You heard Duncan let out a sigh. He sounded tired.

“I miss you.”

daughter0fthewitch

🍷 ──── HANNIBAL LECTER eat the rudea listing of all my hannibal lecter related works:

daughter0fthewitch

run rabbit. . .‧˚꒰🐇꒱༘‧

pairing: Hannibal Lecter x f!reader genre: psychological horror • smut • hunger notes: winner of my recent poll! Your lovely evening activities with your beloved Hannibal are not exactly what 'regular' people indulge in. You enjoy running, as a hobby, and Hannibal enjoys chasing you. warnings: smut!, unprotected pinv, begging, praise, pet names, oral (m receiving), fingering, pet play (?) MINORS DNI!! masterlist join my taglist ─── ꒰ 🌲 ꒱ ───

run run run

imagines-to-quench-thirst

Ducan "Donut" Vizla🍩

Disclaimer: stories are fictitious and should not be taken literally, the behavior is entirely imaginative and the content may be inappropriate

Updated & repaired: 16/07/2023 (if a story won't load or something else, please message me and let me know)

MAIN MASTERLIST

JOIN US TODAY. BE A DUNCAN HOE!

Fluff🌺 Angst 🌩️ Smut❤️‍🔥

5/7 STORIES

5 Types Of Kisses🌺

MY HEADCANONS W/ OTHER CHARACTERS:

Speak In Flowers 🌺 Flowers speak their own words and show their actions. And your man loves to speak it out loud.

Visiting Your Hometown 🌺 how would your boy act when you drag him along to your hometown

Helping You To Accept Your Stretch Marks 🌺your boy helps you accept your beautiful stretch marks as they are...pure perfection

Explaining To Your Man Kdramas🌺I (V) wrote small drabbles that paired my favorite men and dramas that I absolutely love

blkkizzat

PU$$Y GOT MORE M⛧RDERS THAN SHIBUYA.ᐟ 𝐌⛧𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑#𝟕 — 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐚, 𝐇𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢

⛧ 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡: nov 30th, 10:37pm ⛧ 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡: garters + assistant manager! reader + pleasure dom! higuruma+ cunnalingus + fingering + office sex + overworked!higuruma + creampie + shower sex + squirting + use of squirt as coffee creamer + public sex + standing sex + fluff + higuruma courts you like an old man jdfbhsdb + higuruma folds you like a pancake + reader is a bit delulu and spirals lol. ⛧ 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐬: 6390 (~4.5K of it is pure smut lol)

𝐚𝐧: sorry this took so long! i ended up changing the theme a bit on this one cause using the same got so boring to me after a while, ya know? i dont think ill do that again for a series if its not the same story. art creds: both @/reaperpie

𝐧𝐧𝐧 𝐦.𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

If this goes on any longer, you're going to have to apply for flood insurance.

For your panties.

And for what? Simply standing beside Higuruma?

Yup, that'll do it.

Mere proximity to the man who once had you bent over the very desk he's chained to now.

You busy yourself at the file cabinet, fighting to keep your breathing even. But it doesn't stop your eyes from drifting to him—his pen moving and brow furrowed while fully consumed in drafting a judgment entry.

He won. Well, the case got dismissed.

Same difference.

You're just relieved it's finally over.

It's been over a month since this case consumed him and consequently also over a month since you last had his fingers buried inside you.

Shit.

You can still feel the phantom strokes of them curling deep enough to rearrange your guts and dragging out moans you didn't know could be made in pleasure. "There. Right there, babydoll. Let it all go for me."

And you did—skirt bunched, stockings torn and your slick dripping down his hand onto cuffs he hadn't bothered to roll back—

ctrldotgraphomania

I perchance made a marvel audio list.👅👀

Loki audios https://soundgasm.net/u/creamsodacandyy/Loki-visits-you-Reupload-since-I-couldnt-find-it-on-my-page https://soundgasm.net/u/creamsodacandyy/Marvel-Loki-X-Listener-NSFW-My-Toy https://soundgasm.net/u/creamsodacandyy/Marvel-Loki-X-Listener-NSFW-Trial-of-Luck https://soundgasm.net/u/creamsodacandyy/Loki-X-Listener-NSFW-Call-Me-Sentimental https://soundgasm.net/u/creamsodacandyy/Marvel-Loki-X-Listener-NSFW-Restrained https://soundgasm.net/u/creamsodacandyy/Marvel-Loki-X-Listener-NSFW-Rescue https://soundgasm.net/u/creamsodacandyy/Marvel-Loki-X-Listener-NSFW-Trial-of-Luck https://soundgasm.net/u/creamsodacandyy/Loki-X-Listener-NSFW-Curiosity https://soundgasm.net/u/creamsodacandyy/Marvel-Loki-X-Listener-NSFW-Jotun https://soundgasm.net/u/creamsodacandyy/Loki-gives-you-sum-head Bucky audios https://soundgasm.net/u/creamsodacandyy/Marvel-Bucky-X-Listener-NSFW-Turn-Off https://soundgasm.net/u/creamsodacandyy/Marvel-Bucky-Barnes-X-Listener-NSFW-Powerless-Patreon-Exclusive-Patreon https://soundgasm.net/u/creamsodacandyy/Marvel-Bucky-Barnes-X-Listener-NSFW-Physical-Intimacy https://soundgasm.net/u/creamsodacandyy/Marvel-Bucky-Barnes-X-Listener-NSFW-Threes-Company https://soundgasm.net/u/creamsodacandyy/Marvel-Bucky-X-Steve-NSFW-Safe-House-Heat https://soundgasm.net/u/creamsodacandyy/Steve-and-Bucky-share-you (Threesome audio) https://soundgasm.net/u/creamsodacandyy/Bucky-Barnes-X-Listener-NSFW-Subdued-Halloween-Patreon https://soundgasm.net/u/creamsodacandyy/Bucky-X-Listener-NSFW-Forgiven https://soundgasm.net/u/creamsodacandyy/Bucky-Barnes-X-Listener-NSFW-Reunion https://soundgasm.net/u/creamsodacandyy/Bucky-Barnes-X-Listener-NSFW-I-Trust-You https://soundgasm.net/u/creamsodacandyy/Marvel-Bucky-Barnes-X-Listener-NSFW-Ferris-Wheel Thor audios https://soundgasm.net/u/creamsodacandyy/Marvel-Thor-X-Listener-NSFW-Vulnerability https://soundgasm.net/u/creamsodacandyy/Thor-Odinson-X-Listener-NSFW-Your-Desires Peter Parker audios (THE CREATOR ONLY HAD ONE😣) https://soundgasm.net/u/creamsodacandyy/Taking-Spider-Mans-virginity-HELL-YEAH

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