Once again, I have things to say about Daemon Targaryen.
I know, you're shocked. Me too.
Daemon stays back through the whole confrontation with the kids. By all rights, he should have gone to Baela and Rhaena, but he doesn't. He stays back and he goes quiet.
I have talked about the fact that Daemon is at his most dangerous when he's quiet, when he fades into the background, but this scene is an interesting version.
He stays back and he waits for Rhaenyra.
For the first time, we see him wait for someone else to make the first move. He trusts that this is an instant where she will be able to take control of the situation. And she does. For the first time in 10 years, she has someone in her corner fully and it gives her the strength to challenge Alicent. Daemon can stand back and do what he was always meant to do: defend Rhaenyra.
He moves when Criston does, but not to defend Rhaenyra. He stops Criston from interfering, but he lets her handle the rest. For the first time, they both have a partner, someone to rely on to have their back.
Something neither of them have had before.
Rhaenyra is the Queen and Daemon is her Sword Arm. Just as they were always meant to be.
summary: you've been having trouble sleeping a month after you started working at the heelshire manor. it's time to figure out why.
includes: fem domme! reader, face sitting, teasing, a very subby and needy brahms
_
You felt it again. The hands. In the dream, they roamed over your body, tracing the curve of your shoulder, gliding over the smooth expanse of your abdomen, slowing only once they came to your inner thighs. You shuddered as icy fingers crept closer to the warmth there as if they wanted to gently pry you apart, make you pliable. What would happen, you wondered, if you were to spread your legs?
Before you could get an answer, your eyes snapped open to the emptiness of your room - which was quiet save for the usual rustling within the walls. In your groggy stupor, you realize that your blanket had been cast aside, leaving your legs bare to the cold winter air. Was the heater acting up again? You wondered, slightly annoyed. Sooner or later, you'd have to ask Malcom to find a way to get it checked.
But for now, you brought the covers over yourself and fell back asleep.
The dreams had started at the end of your first month at the manor. The Heelshires had just left for their vacation, telling you that they would be back soon once they had enough of the coastal air. By that time, you had just started to get used to the strange routine they had set for you, so your days would be spent lounging on the divan with a book in your hands as the sound of a piano floated from the record player across the room.
But on that first night, you could have sworn you felt someone touching your hair. It started out as a gentle prod, a delicate brush over the stray strands that had stuck to your cheek that soon turned into what felt like someone slowing running their fingers through your hair.
In the morning, you simply dismissed it as a dream. You were alone in the house, after all. Still, you squinted at yourself as you brushed your locks in front of the mirror.
It's an old house, you told yourself. Strange things happened all the time in old houses.
You looked at the doll sitting on the chair across the room. And this house was certainly no stranger to the unusual.
"Maybe it's sleep paralysis," your friend said, her voice crackly over the bad reception. "I used to get it all the time in college. I'd feel breathing on my neck and things trying to grab me."
Your eyebrows knitted together in disbelief. "You think so? I guess it makes sense - it's a little creepy being along without the old folks around," you said, tapping the spatula against your mouth. Malcom was due to stop by at any time with the weekly delivery of groceries and you still had to plan for dinner. "Well, what do I do, then?"
"You try to open your eyes," she said. "Or move your feet. It's your body that's asleep, so shifting yourself should wake you up."
Later that night, you kiss the doll to end your daily ritual.
"Good night, Brahms," you murmured, wrapping the blanket around him. "You better not be up to any trouble."
Maybe you were going crazy. Maybe it was sleep paralysis. Maybe it was all because you hadn't slept well in a while.
Whatever it was, sleep found you nestled in your blanket and took you easily.
Sometime, somewhere amid the realm that separated consciousness and slumber, you felt a hand slip between your thighs.
You stirred at the sensation of a palm sliding over your vulva and what felt like a thumb pressing against your clit.
Something strange was happening.
You opened your eyes slightly and saw the shape of a man outlined in the moonlight.
It's a dream, you thought, shutting your eyes. It's only a dream.
After a minute, the hand removed itself from your shorts and you heard a faint creaking and then the familiar rustling within the walls.
In the morning, you slid your hand under your panties and found yourself sticky with wetness.
"I don't know what's going on," you lamented, leaning back against the pillow. "For fuck's sake."
Your thoughts wandered to the man from your dream. His broad shoulders. The curls in his hair. His large hand grasping you, his cool fingertips pressing against your seam.
You had no idea if what you were going through was just a dream, but perhaps it could be your fantasy.
Slowly, your fingers moved through the slick and your core embered as you made gentle circles around your clit.
Perhaps moving for this job had been stressing you. Perhaps you weren't prepared for how weird this position turned out to be. Perhaps you were just in need of some sort of release.
"Fuck," you gasped as your hips bucked against your fingers. Your other hand fisted the sheets as your climax shuddered through you, sending little shocks from your clit to your thighs.
Satisfied, you rolled over and sighed, chest heaving from the exertion. Your eyes fell to a crack in the wall. In the back of your mind, you wondered whether or not you were truly alone.
Curious, you slipped your shorts back on and walked to the wall. You pressed your ear against the old plaster and heard the familiar creak of wood along with an exhalation that sounded a lot like breathing.
Smiling, you decided that you were going to try something new that night.
After you capped off your daily routine of taking care of the doll, you brought the covers over your chest and closed your eyes.
Instead of drifting off to sleep, you waited.
After a while, you heard a rustling sound come from near the dresser across the room and the creak of footsteps padding against the wooden floor.
There was a man in your room.
Fear would have been the expected emotion to come over you in such a situation, but you could only feel the static of anticipation dance across your skin.
His breathing was soft, as if muffled by something. Within just a few moments, you felt goosebumps prickle your arms as your blanket was moved aside, exposing you to the cool air.
You felt a weight shift the bed. He was trying to come closer to you - perhaps he was testing how bold he could be. Fingers tentatively slid beneath your shirt, feeling the expanse of your abdomen before settling to cup your bare breast.
You fought against an inhale at his touch and instead, you wrapped a hand around his wrist and opened your eyes to find yourself face to face with a porcelain mask.
Surprised, his eyes went wide and he let out a muffled yelp. You thought he would have fallen back to rush to whatever hole he had crawled out if you hadn't tightened your grip on his wrist and pulled him closer.
"More," you demanded. "I want you to touch me more."
You watched as his eyes flicked from your hand to your face as if nervous. A gulp resounded from his mask as he nodded quickly, squeezing your breast as you worked to unbutton your shirt.
"There," you said, the sides of your silk shirt draped haphazardly over your chest. "You like what you see?"
As if in reply to you, he moved closer to you. He was tall and strongly built, the fibers of his work shirt clinging to lean muscle. You figured that he could easily overpower you.
Maybe he would, if you told him to.
"Good boy," you said, shivering at his thumb grazing your nipple.
So this...must have been Brahms. The real Brahms. Somehow, you couldn't bring yourself to feel shocked. All you could feel was the hunger for him to lay his hands on you.
"Can I touch you?" You asked, looking at the soft curls that fell over his mask.
He paused before giving you another nod. You raised your hand and ran your fingers through his unruly curls, causing him to pant.
"Mmm," he rumbled, his eyes rolling back at the pleasure of your touch.
"You poor thing," you cooed, dragging your fingernails down the length of his nape. "How long have you been wanting this?"
With a swift motion, you wrapped your legs around him and flipped him onto his back. He gasped in surprise, his hands holding your thighs to steady him.
"How long, Brahms?" You pressed, raking a hand across his chest, eliciting another delicious groan from him. "Tell me."
"Ev-every night," he croaked, his voice hoarse with underuse. "Aft...after the first month."
With your palms pressed against his chest, you lowered yourself so that your face hovered just above his. His eyes, wild with shock, scanned you nervously.
"Every night," you said slowly, giving weight to each word. "I tucked you into bed. And for a month, you kept me from having a good night's sleep."
You moved to the shell of his left ear and whispered, "I'm going to take back everything you took from me. Do you understand?"
He nodded, this time even more quickly.
"Please," he said quietly, his eyes squeezed shut.
"First things first," you said, tucking your fingers underneath the edge of his mask. "I want to see more of you."
His hand curled around your wrist as he shook his head.
"Bad," he said, almost panicked. "Very bad."
"Don't you want to be good for me?" You teased, sliding a thumb across his smooth porcelain cheek. "A good little boy - just for me?"
"Mm," he said, his voice high with excitement. "Good," he continued, hooking his thumbs beneath his mask to lift it from his face. "Yes, good."
Malcom had told you that years ago, that there was a fire at the Heelshire house.
You saw the flames in the rippled scar tissue that was spread across the right half of Brahms' face.
"Bad?" He shook beneath you, eyes welling with tears. "I look...bad?"
"No," you said, cupping his scarred cheek. The silvery skin was smooth. Even with the burn, he was handsome. The soft curls. His bright eyes. The strong jawline. You brushed your mouth against his, feeling his warm breath on your face. "You've been a very good boy."
At your praise, he crushed his lips to yours - the action hungry and desperate as his wet tongue probed your mouth.
"Been," he panted in between breaths, bunching his hand in your hair. "I've been wanting to taste you."
You rocked your hips against his groin, causing him to moan against your mouth.
"Well?" You said, sinking your teeth at the hollow of his neck. "What do you think?"
"More," he gasped, his hands moving to the waistband of your shorts. "I want, ah, I want more of you."
Quickly, you slipped your shorts and underwear, tossing it aside.
Once you finally discarded your shirt, he marveled at the sight of your naked form.
"Please," he begged, his fingers pressing into your hips. His eyes were glazed with desire. "I want to...taste you."
Not wanting to deny him, you lifted yourself so that your thighs hovered above his face.
"Thank you," he said, his strong arms wrapping around you before pulling your pussy to his mouth.
You grabbed the headboard for stability as his cold tongue desperately lapped at your clit. When you tried to pull away, shuddering at the intensity of his hunger, Brahms only tightened his hold on you.
"I want," he stammered against your wetness. "I want you to, ah, say...say my name."
"Fuck," you grabbed his hair as your hips bucked against his mouth.
He groaned, his tongue exploring your slit. Thighs shaking, you had his name pressed against your teeth.
"Brahms," you whined, fucking yourself against his tongue. "I need more."
"Mm," he nodded as he traced small circles around your clit, your core tightening as the climax shuddered through you.
You moaned his name, thighs twitching with aftershocks until you leaned back and fell over beside him.
Next to you, he wiped at the slick on his face and licked it off his fingers, relishing the taste of you.
After a moment, he rolled to face you.
"The sounds you made," he murmured, hands roaming to your thighs. "So pretty," he continued, making the pads of his fingers wet with your honey. "Let me hear them."
You gasped as he slid two fingers into your warmth, feeling yourself stretch to accommodate him. It had been a long time since you had been touched like this, and all you could do was rock against him, your body still sensitive from the orgasm you had a few minutes earlier.
"Brahms," you clawed at his shirt, panting. "I want to make you feel good."
"Okay," he said softly, leaning back against the bed.
"Take off your shirt," you directed. Obediently, he slipped off his cardigan and top, revealing a lean chest covered in dark, curly hair.
"Cute," you said, straddling him, feeling the length of his excitement against your thigh.
"You think...I'm cute?" He blushed, raising a hand to cover his face.
It was so strange to think that he was almost frightening earlier this night, but so pliable for you now.
"So cute," you took his hand away from his face so you could kiss him deeply, your hips rocking slowly against his.
Against your mouth, he whimpered at the friction.
"It feels good," he groaned. The sound of it was almost guttural, like a growl. "More," he begged. "Please." He dug his fingers into your hips, grinding you against his cock.
"Brahms," you took his hands in yours. "Be a good boy and take the rest off."
With a nod, he slipped off his pants, revealing a rock-hard erection.
"Oh," you said, marveling at the size of it. "What a pretty thing." You teased, rubbing the tip along your seam. "Can you feel how wet I am for you?"
"Please," he panted, almost whining. "I'll be good. Just...let me take you."
You groaned as his head met your slick clit. "But you're being so good for me right now," you told him, bracing yourself against his chest as you teased him near your entrance.
"Please!" He cried, taking your hips and slamming you against his cock.
You gasped at the length of him, but you could barely brace yourself as he started bucking into you hard.
"I've been bad," he said, wrapping an arm around you to secure you to his body. His breath was hot against your chest as he bounced you.
"But I can be good for you," he wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking on it gently as he worked at it with his tongue.
"Brahms," you moaned, grabbing his curls as he fucked you relentlessly.
"I want you," he licked. "I want you all to myself." His arms tightened around you.
You couldn't help but churn your hips against his. Fuck, it felt good.
You bit your lip as your core tightened. You were about to come.
"Kiss me," he growled, and you brought your mouth to his as the climax rocked through the both of you. Thighs shaking, you could feel him twitch inside of you.
With a sigh, he loosened his hold on you and you leaned against his chest.
"Was I...good?" He asked once his breathing began to slow, his voice quiet.
"Did I do good for you?"
You gave him a peck on the cheek - although from the look on his face, it seemed like he wanted more.
"It was amazing," you told him.
Eyes wet with tears, he wrapped his arms around you. "D-don't ever l-leave me," he said. "I don't...ever want you to leave me."
"Shush," you pressed a finger to his lips. "I don't know where you got that idea," you said, bringing your mouth to his neck. "I think I'd like to have you to myself for a long time."
He grimaced at the way his child voice came out broken and less convincing than usual, but in his state, even simply speaking was a feat.
You had been sluggishly fighting against his persistent grip on you, yet once you heard him speak, a loud gasp of shock escaped you, and your body stiffened under his. The way you tensed up made your back arch and your ass stick out even more. His focus shifted to your half-clad bottom, which was hovering only inches from his face. The drenched fabric of your panties had somehow stuck to the side, teasing him - torturing him - with that mouthwavering sight of you.Â
Oh, what a struggle it was for him to refrain from seeking your heat again and then shoving himself inside you, once and for all. He was shivering with restraint while proceeding to keep you pinned to the mattress. He wasn't sure how much longer he could hold himself back, though.
He wanted you to know who he was before he finally and thoroughly claimed you as his. His pride somehow exceeded his yearning.
"B-Brahms...?" You hesitantly whispered his name, hoping to catch a glimpse of him behind your shoulder. You could only make out a dark silhouette in your peripheral vision, for both the darkness of the room and his tight clasp prevented you from seeing anything else. "How-? W-what?"
Your voice was a little louder this time, and you sounded sharper. He also noticed with satisfaction that you were now remaining still under his hold. That was good. It would make things easier. He'd prefer not to fight you, not to force you... But if you were to refuse him... He would not hold back... He couldn't...
"You don't have to be alone anymore in this big, scary house."Â
He made sure to stress out the last words, the same ones you used when you had confided your wish to the doll. He wanted you to understand⊠That wicked side of him wanted you to realise that he had always been there, watching you, listening in on you... That you have never truly been alone.
"Aren't you happy?"
He couldn't hide the impatience in his voice. His palm pressed harder onto your spine, imperceptibly rubbing up and down, seeking your touch. He found himself edging closer to you, his mask nearly touching your asscheek, his other hand ready to commit another despicable sin, the worst one yet.
âLet me see you? Please?"
He stopped in his tracks, momentarily stunned by your words.
You had asked so sweetly, your voice such a gentle caress to his ears, how could he have declined your request? After all, he had longed to have those gorgeous eyes of yours fall on him, finally seeing him, since the first day. And what would have been better than having you looking at him as he ravished you? Watching lust twist your features, the pleasure - he was igniting in you - flooding your lovely eyes. A shuddering breath escaped his lips as the vivid image arose in his mind, aggravating the torture.
Brahms loosened his grip, allowing you to turn around and lie on your back. As soon as your eyes met his, you let out another loud gasp. His gut flipped at the way your wide eyes flitted across his mask, chest, thighs, taking him all in.
You saw him. You were looking at him. Ah, what a dream... What a dream come true...
He wondered what was going through your pretty little head. How did it make you feel to know that the kid's voice you've occasionally heard reverberating through the mansion over the past few weeks hadn't come from a possessed doll or an imprisoned spirit... But from him. Your Brahms, in flesh and blood.
âB-BrahmsâŠâ
The way you tentatively called his name while looking up at him like a deer in the headlights was pure bliss.
He nodded enthusiastically in response and drew closer to you. His gaze flickered from your face to your hand, which he noticed slowly reaching up in his direction. He jerked back instantly out of reflex, frightened like a beaten dog meeting a loving hand for the first time, but as soon as he realized there was no threat in your intentions, he leaned back in and allowed you to touch his mask. Oh, how he yearned to feel your soft palm caressing his wounded cheek... to feel your gentle touch skin on skin⊠But that would have to be enough for the moment.
Now that he had your full attention. Now that you knew who he was and that no harm would come from him⊠with your eyes staring up at him with such awe and wonderâŠÂ
He couldn't wait any longer.Â
His hand eagerly slipped between your thighs, fingers greedily seeking your heat. He caught with utmost satisfaction the way your eyes widened again, your lips parting to let out a shocked cry; you looked so adorable⊠so desirable⊠so vulnerableâŠ
He kept his ever-attentive gaze fixed on you, desperate to catch your every reaction, as he stroked your wet folds and teased your entrance.
âW-what are you⊠Ah!~â
A tremor pierced him as he felt your body tremble so sharply when he easily entered you, triggering a loud whine from you as he drove his fingers deep into your walls.
His breathing was extremely shallow, and he could see your chest raise and fall as you began panting as well; the sight only served to add fuel to his burning desire, leaving him eager to make you cry and shiver just like that over and over again.Â
His movement against you was firm but frantic, fueled by his long-repressed need, which was causing him to shudder and whimper as he fingered you. He had no idea what he was doing, but your moans and squeals were guiding and urging him to keep hitting that spongy spot deep inside you which seemed to make you scream the loudest.
âN-no⊠W-w-waitâŠâ
Your hands shakily reached down to seize his and halt his actions, but he quickly grasped your wrists and pinned them both on your belly, holding them down with one palm while continuining on driving his fingers back and forth, unrelentingly, into you. He could tell you liked it, the lewd sounds you were making told him as much. He knew his actions were pleasing you. Your cunt was so wet, and your walls welcomed his long fingers with such hunger, swallowing them fully with each push.
How would it feel to sink inside you? To have your tight, spongy walls suck and squeeze his cock dry? Would his cum leak back out? It always did when he used his doll, the one he had turned to look just like you⊠He constantly had to push his fluids back inside the holeâŠ
âBrahms... S-stop⊠Ah!â
Your broken whimpers sounded so cute. You were so cute. What were you asking of him? Certainly not to stop. Not that he would or could. The feeling of making you squirm under his touch was intoxicating, a feeling he had just discovered and yet couldn't get enough of. He had already grown addicted. The sight of you laying there completely vulnerable, completely his, was filling him with such a rush of euphoria.Â
He released your wrists, disregarding the way you immediately but weakly started tugging at his hand again in protest. Instead, he reached down to his trousers, letting out a deep guttural grunt when he felt the dampness of the material, soaked with his seed. Leaked precum? Or did he burst into his pants without even realising? It didn't matter. His cock was hard and throbbing when he grabbed it, ready to slip out of the restraining cloth and finally sink inside you⊠He couldnât wait, oh no, he couldnât wait anymore-
âI said stop!âÂ
His entire body shuddered violently, and his senses suddenly sharpened as if he had just awoken from a trance. Both his hands abruptly came to a halt.
He wasn't sure if he was shaking more from the thrill your imposing tone caused in him or the excruciating hunger that was gnawing at him, demanding to be satiated. Possibly both combined given the intensity of the tension that had taken hold of his body.
Brahms stared at you with bated breath and childish fear, like a misbhehaving boy caught in the act of some deplorable deeds by his strict mother. He didn't dare to make a sound nor move an inch as he waited to be scolded.
A strange glint passed your eyes, one that he could barely catch, let alone decipher. However, your entire demeanour seemed to alter abruptly in response to his reaction.
"What do you think you're doing?"
He gasped. A flood of dread shook his entire being and made his stomach churn upon hearing your stern tone. Did he upset you? Were you angry at him? He couldn't bear it. Oh no⊠He only wished to please you... Only ever wished to please you...
"What were you doing, mh?"Â
Brahms vehemently shook his head, his panicked gaze glued on your hard look.Â
âBrahms.â
Your commanding tone made him shudder again. He cowered, crouching down and dropping his head on your lap. He didn't dare admit what he was about to do, what he had been doing long before you woke up.
"Brahms!"
He felt your hands pull on his arms, but he only pressed his head further against you, burying his face in your womb, his whimpers muffled by your skin. His hands reached to your sides, holding you vehemently but not threateningly. He wanted to show you how good he was. How good he could be for you. He was sorry. Yes. He was terribly sorry. He would never upset you again. Â
"PleaseâŠ" He pleaded in his childish voice, nuzzling his forehead into your belly.
"Please, what?"
He tightened his grip on your sides and cried again, "Pleaseee⊠I need youâŠ"Â
His meekness only increased as you delayed to answer. His hands cradled your body, fingers clutching desperately at your nightgown and creasing the material. His head anxiously swayed back and forth as he rubbed his mask against you.
"Use your real voice."
Another tremor shook his body and he quickly obeyed your command.Â
"I need you."
His voice came out low and hoarse, such a stark contrast to his childish tone. It caused a vibration in your tummy. He could feel how your body shivered in reaction.Â
Raising his head to meet your gaze, he noticed that your eyes had widened significantly. Was it because of his voice? The way he begged? Did you like it? He could beg you again and again in his real voice, if it pleased you so. If that meant youâd let him have you.
"I need you, pleaseâŠ"Â
His fingers travelled slowly along your sides, gingerly getting closer to your panties again, quivering with impatience and constraint. He kept his imploring look on you as he stroked his fingertips on the damp fabric before slipping them inside to rub against your folds once more.Â
He saw your eyelids flutter and your chest rise harshly as you took a deep breath.
He whimpered as he felt your fingers weave into his curls and then capture them abruptly in a tight clasp.
"Lay down, Brahms."Â
He merely lingered for a moment to process what you had requested of him. Then he did it. He lay down on the mattress without question. Eager to please you. Desperate to be in your good graces. He would do anything for you.Â
His entire body was trembling with anticipation, a deep-seated urge to be touched threatening to overtake him as you climbed on top of him, claiming his former position. His body craved your touch so badly, yet he had to wait until you decided to put him out of his misery.
âYouâre such a naughty boy. You know that?â
When he felt your weight on him and your groin sitting directly on his bulge, he felt his breath catch in his throat and his hips buck up instinctively. Only his unbuttoned pants separated his arousal from your heat.
He was losing his mindâŠ
"Nobody ever taught you that's not how good boys are supposed to behave, mh?"
More whimpers flowed from his parted lips as you began to grind against him, painfully slowly but with force. He struggled to keep his eyes open and locked in yours; his quivering hands went up to hold your hips, seeking to control your movements, but you intercepted them and forced them down on the pillow on either side of his face. He let you keep them still.
"PleaseâŠ"
"I will teach you⊠Yes, yes... I will teach you. Bad boys never get their way, no matter how much or how long they beg."
Brahms had always obtained whatever he wanted since he was a little boy. If he couldn't have it, he'd take it himself. But he wasn't going to admit it to you. He merely groaned and twitched in response, every inch of his body ignited by your leisurely and frustrating movement against him.
He craved being inside you... To spill his load deep within your core... but he was so worked up⊠he had been holding back for so long, too long⊠and the way you moved was so rousing, provoking him just enough toâŠ
His body abruptly convulsed underneath you, a deep sigh of relief escaping from his lips as a dark and large wet stain appeared on the material of his trousers. All of the desire coursing through him reached a fever pitch that consumed every inch of his body.
He had never experienced such an intense and violent orgasm before. He had jerked off numerous times, but cumming never felt so good...Â
Brahms was still trembling and panting when his eyes opened again to meet yours. You had stopped moving when he started spasming. Even in the dark, he could see the blush on your cheeks, the way your eyes were wide and glazed as they stared down at him, your own breath coming in short.Â
"F-Fuck-"
His eyes were fixed on you, watching you as you gulped and shivered, clearly shaken by what had just happened. Your gaze kept darting back and forth between his pants and mask. When he felt your hands release his wrists, he pulled yours back, drawing you forward and causing you to fall on top of him with a yelp.
Brahms buried his face into the crook of your neck. Your scent was stronger than before, his nostrils filled with your natural aroma. His fingers trailed over your skin, feeling how clammy it was and relishing the way you shivered at the touch. He moved on along the curve of your neck until he reached the edge of your nightgown and peeled it down without hesitation, this time dragging it low enough to prevent it from rolling back up. The sight of your breasts made his stomach flip, just like it had done the first time. His body started to become stiffer once more.Â
âAgainâŠâ he whispered breathlessly as he lifted your torso so you could sit on his lap just like before, straddling his groin. He could feel himself getting harder all over again. He could not possibly resist you.
"B-Brahms?"
His hands greedily mapped your body, groping every curve and dip they found. His touch soon became frantic and urgent.
"Again, again, again!"
He hastily freed his growing erection from his pants and without giving you time to register what was happening, he seized your waist and pulled you down onto him.Â
At last, you had become one.Â
The quiet room filled with both his and your moans of pleasure, which only grew louder as Brahms started guiding your hips up and down, each time with greater force, allowing him to fully sink into you. You were so warm, and the way your tight walls clenched around his cock was more intoxicating than he could have anticipated. It was maddening. The sound of your cunt slapping against his groin was the the best sound he had ever heard. He mentally added it to the list of pleasures he had so quickly become addicted to and sought to experience again and again and again...
He was a mess of sweat and whimpers and tremors, and so were you.Â
Ah, to finally have you! To finally take you as his! This was everything he had ever dreamed and yearned for. You would never be alone or feel lonely again, and neither would he!Â
Please you night and day, whenever and wherever! That's what he intended to do.
Oh, yes.Â
He will be such a good boy for you.
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[Should I make a nsfw version of my fanart? đ€ I'd like to try my hand at nsfw art. Let me know if you'd be interested in seeing it.]
Lance has a praise kink. Like, at this point it's a fact that I'm more than willing to indulge in. I just can't stop thinking about Lance getting all giddy when someone (mostly Keith) tells him he did a good job today while training or praises his progress in piloting Blue (yes, I refuse to accept whatever happened after Keith became the leader of Voltron). His heartbeat immediately picks up and he can feel his cheeks warming (thanks to his dark skin tone it's not that noticable). And then he just requires a few seconds to come back to his senses and carry on with his day. He just feels so proud of himself it literally hurts.
NOW TO THE SMUTY PART OF THIS POST
After some thorough pondering I'm not ashamed to say that I have an imprinted-in-my-brain image of Lance face down in his pillow and ass up, getting fucked sweetly by Keith, who is perfectly aware of his boyfriend's praise kink. So, as he slams his hips into Lance, he runs a hand down his spine, feeling him shudder under the touch, and Keith coos almost teasingly but with a soft grin over his face:
"just look at you, so desperate for my cock, willing to get used like a filthy whore just so you could get fucked nice and dumb."
and
"god, you're so good for me, taking me in so well. you're so pretty and perfect, I could fuck you forever."
Upon hearing those words, Lance simply loses himself, clenching around Keith's cock and moaning obscenely into the pillow, tears of pleasure damping the soft fabric. He whines and winces and the only words that leave his mouth are "fuck", "Keith" and "please".
Princesses donât want to be rescued by knights in shining armor. They want knights with armor thatâs dented, scarred, and maybe patched with the bones of slain beasts.
all these gay girls are like "wow i want a big lady to step on me" but where is the love for short girls stepping on you? short girl intimidating you with her presence and body language alone until you fall over and she steps on you?? short girl taking down a girl who's much taller than her and making her submit??? where's the love for my shadow of the colossus bitches???
Youâve been fully blind since birth. You also just canât make sense of why the charming Greek lady who runs the local statue garden doesnât seem to have many friends besides youâŠ
tangentwithtanner
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pixelskylines
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