aspiring-house-husband

[aspiring-house-husband]

i went off again 💕

this time look out for some light pet play, lots and lots of hypno, plenty of humiliation, throw in some breeding kink and light bondage and somno, all of course framed by regency and fantasy and elves.

elves are interesting creatures. 

they think of themselves as so much better, so above all others, but they aren’t. they’re animals, just like men. just like orcs. they have base instincts that can override their supposedly superior intellect and they have weaknesses. 

when kingdoms of man fight elves, their power is overwhelming, because they seem to always fight together. taking on one elf military means battling them all. but in territories where elves face no man, no orc, no dwarves? when they only border with each other? they squabble. their disagreements are fierce and their battles bloody. 

such is what happened to this poor prince. as part of the treaties to end a terrible war, the defeated monarch was to hand over his son, his eldest, strongest, most primed for the crown heir, to the victor. 

the victor is of course the general of the victorious army, he who led his kingdom in glorious combat. he whose skill in both battle and strategy was the killing strike against the defeated kingdom. the crown prince of the victorious kingdom. 

he is graceful and beautiful, strong and toned. his sharp ears flick as he thinks, his deep eyes take in all. and his teeth are sharp, hidden behind a wicked smile. 

the poor defeated prince is proud, too proud to bow to the victor. so the victor locks him in his quarters for a while, to think on how he has treated his host. his only contact are to be his servants, bringing him food and any other needs. after two weeks, the victor attempts to check on him, see how his isolation is affecting him, but he finds his prize, meant to be his toy, his servant, his war bride- the victor finds him cock deep in one of the palace staff, growling through his violent thrusts and pinning like an animal. 

the victor watches in interest, but his expression shows anger. when the defeated prince slumps down next to his servant and promptly falls asleep, the victor helps the terrified servant to his legs, gently helps him reclothe, and sends him back to his own quarters with the rest of the day off. the wrath about to descend upon the defeated prince was not for this man, this man who only had a fun night and who had no part in the disobedience. 

the prize, on the other hand… his prize, meant to be reparations, an offer of surrender, his toy… and it would do such things to him? no, this young prince should know better. should know who he belongs to. 

the victor made a mental note to commission his sorcerer for a magical artifact that would do more than the innate magic to an elf. but afterward, his gentle magic kept his prize asleep while he worked. he bound his toy to the bed, tightly, rolling him into his back and immobilizing him. he worked fast, wanting his prize still sensitive in his post orgasm glow. 

it took not much prep before the victorious prince straddles upon his prize and spears himself deep, sighing in the pleasure that has his ears twitching. only then does he undo his sleep magic, allowing his toy to gasp awake with the oversensitivity and attempt to sit up swiftly, only to be wrenched by his shoulders and crash back down onto his back. 

“what are you-“ he growls, beginning to thrash, before the prince quiets him with a finger on his lips. 

“shhh,” he says, “i am teaching you a lesson and telling you your punishment.” he begins to rise and fall on his prize, which pulls gasps half of pleasure and half of pain from the toy. “you belong to me, prince. you, and your pleasure, and your mind, and your cock. they are mine.”

he watches as the defeated prince’s fists clench, and he knows how sensitive his cock must be, but it doesn’t matter, not to a victor. he dared lead his army against a stronger kingdom, and this is the price to be paid. 

“you are mine,” he snarls, laying his palms flat to his prize’s rib cage so that he might build speed, met with whined moans, but no complaints. “your body and your orgasms. mine to take when i please.” the poor oversensitive thing spills inside him only a moment later, and he slams his hips down harder to chase his own edge. when it comes with violent tremors all throughout his body, he settles down into the prince’s lap again, breathing hard, satisfied. 

“you will learn that you belong to no one but me. you will not even have the comfort of servants, until you do.”

he allows his toy to remember this for three weeks, until his sorcerer provides him with the artifact he commissioned. it was a beautiful collar, strong metal wrapped in plush leather and with a large magic stone inset into its front. 

“as promised,” his sorcerer says, “ultimate obedience. he will be compelled to follow your orders, and yours alone, as though they are his own thoughts.” the prince turns the collar in his hands and inspects it, but as always, her handiwork is flawless. “it also comes with a simple spell that makes it impossible for anyone other than you to take it off. their fingers and eyes will pass over the latch as though it smooth, unbroken metal.”

“incredible,” the prince says. 

“and as a final touch, instinct amplification.”

“excuse me?”

“forgive me, highness, but he clearly has… desires. these will be amplified to the forefront of his mind. it will overpower his all other senses. he will still be compelled to obey, of course, but it will make obedience all the more torturous as the most hidden parts of his mind come to the forefront and demand attention.”

“how cruel… you are a wicked woman. remind me to expand your wing of the palace; i don’t know what i would do without you.”

the prince saunters to the confines of his prize, and whispers sleep magic through the door before he enters. he wraps the collar around his toy’s neck and snuggles onto his chest to breathe his first order to be obeyed into his ear. not to overwhelm, he starts with only one. 

“all of your foul thoughts will be of only me.”

the difference is immediate. his prize follows him everywhere, hardly aware of the stature he once commanded. he sees only his prince, and desires for him. not long after does the prince attach a chain leash to his collar, pulling him close whenever he desires. 

“highness,” the poor pet could hardly exhale, his cock hard and red and dripping in anticipation for once again taking the hole of his prince. 

“not now, pet,” the prince says, smirking at the thought of his entire court and throne room hearing his pet, once a proud prince, beg to please him. “why don’t you debase yourself with your mouth on me until i have finished my work?”

and as such the prince discussed with nobles and advisors while a defeated, once proud leader of an army moaned through his tongue shoved deep into his victor’s hole, and painted the bottom of the throne in his cum, his cock untouched but drunk with obedience and the smell of his prince. 

when his work is completed, the prince carelessly kicks his pet from between his legs. his toy is a mess, his eyes blown wide with lust and his face dripping with his meal. his cock is still red and angry and dripping both cum and pre, the same mixture painted on his chest. 

“aren’t you a sight,” says the prince, smirking. “carry me to my chambers and you may have your way with me. i know how you’ve been waiting, like a dog in rut, at your chance to breed me. take it.”

the prince’s pet scoops him up and all but runs back to the big plush bed, dumping him with a growl and tearing his robes from his body. the prince laughs as he is manhandled, thrown onto his stomach and yanked back until his hips are propped for his pet, and all the animal instincts overpowering his mind. 

“what a savage you are,” he teases, yanking the chain until his pet is immobilized against him, his cock so teasingly rubbing against the prince’s thighs and ass. “imagine if your kingdom could see you now. desperate with lust for the man who defeated you, hard and whimpering for me. they would see you behaving like an animal, needing nothing more than to breed and take, but utterly controlled by me. imagine it. such a proud prince, so fallen.”

his pet whines. he can hear the humiliation in his whimper, but still the poor thing grinds against him, his body always wanting to be inside the prince. 

“i know, poor thing, i know. if you answer this, you can fuck me as long as you want- what are you?” his pet lavishes an open mouthed kiss onto his shoulder, scraping his teeth across skin. 

“i am a disgraced prince in service to his conquerer, a prize won,” he says, the words falling from his mouth. “i am a man desperate to have you, to breed you, to fill you and watch you cry in pleasure. i am made to taste you and fuck you and keep fucking you even when your body gives out.”

“mm, and?” the prince says, glowing in satisfaction. 

“i am your pet, your highness. leashed and obedient and desperate to please.”

“good boy,” the prince says, and releases the chain. it takes only seconds for his pet to right himself and fuck the prince open, his cock buried deep and filling the prince. whining and moaning, the prince arches his back, letting his pet tug him back and forth so they can slam together and pull apart. he thanks the gods for his pet’s stamina as he is pulled through three orgasms, whining and moaning and high pitched ah’s pulled from his throat while his ears and thighs tremble before, finally, his pet slams as deep as he can and cums. he growls and moans and his fingertips claw at his prince to keep him close while his teeth yearn to bite. the prince, trembling through his satisfaction, lifts a hand to his pet’s face and only a moment later he feels his mouth around his fingers, gently holding his knuckles between his teeth and lavishing his tongue over the digits. 

“good boy, my good pet,” the prince pants out, smiling. “stay inside me. let me have you and let us fall asleep together.” his pet gladly readjusts them so that they both lay on their sides, the prince still blissfully full and his pet still rightfully owned. warm and full and satisfied, he falls slowly to sleep. 

he wakes when the moon is high and the night is pitch black to his pet fucking him anew. 

#og #story #non monster #prince #public #hypnosis #somno #breeding #collar #c0ckwarming

[aspiring-house-husband]

there was once a wizard who was obsessed with a young man. there was nothing particularly special about him- he was no prince, no sorcerer, nothing of note. but he was beautiful and alluring, sweet and kind. the wizard coveted him, was obsessed with no one else laying eyes upon him. 

the wizard invited the boy to his tower and offered him to stay the night, so that he would not have to travel home in the night. but he placed a spell on the young man. he was trapped, unknowing how the time passed. he could know his memories, understand that he had to wash his blankets in the morning, but he could never comprehend that he had been in the tower far too long. 

it was not for lack of luxury. he had fur blankets and any hobby he could think of pursuing. he wanted for nothing- the wizard’s magic made it so. 

and as such he remained, painting, quilting, carving, for decades. he could not know it, but birthdays passed. his youth remained while time moved on, while the wizard grew old and died, while the forest overgrew the tower and the world forgot about him. 

that is, until a new wizard attempted to piece together the magic of the ancient kingdom lost. he could sense magic, deep in the forest; magic he could learn from, perhaps? 

tangled in ivy and deep in the old forest, this new wizard finds the remnants of a tower wall. vials that were once brimming with potion lay shattered underneath rotted shelves, and books waterlogged by years of weather barely cling onto their bindings. 

but the magic is not here. it is up the stairs. up toward the light of the sky above the canopy, up and into stone that becomes pristine as he climbs, torches that illuminate brighter the closer he gets, until there is a door with polished metal hinges. 

he knocks, and the door opens. 

“oh!” says the boy, confusion crossing his eyes. “i thought you were the wizard. are you his apprentice?”

“pardon me?” the young wizard says, but he’s tugged into the warm room and the door closed behind him. 

“or are you here to take me back home? he said he’d get me an escort.”

“i don’t-“

“shh, don’t worry,” says the boy, dropping to the bed next to the wizard. “it doesn’t matter. i’m happy to have the company.”

“how long have you been waiting?” 

the boy leans forward and presses a shy kiss to the wizard’s shoulder. 

“far too long, i’m sure. i’ve missed having company.” he lifts a hand to trace the forehead, temple, cheekbones of the wizard. “i can’t help but miss some things more than others.” the wizard swallows. dryly. 

“what things?” he says, and the boy laughs.

“things that a handsome man like you must be more than capable of bestowing,” he says, scooting a bit closer. “can’t i have desires?”

“you can,” says the wizard. he knows he shouldn’t- something is happening here. something magical, and ancient. something he couldn’t understand. but this boy in front of him, this man out of time… he was handsome, and warm. he was like a nymph, a young god, and he wanted… wanted…

“can’t i desire you?”

“you can,” says the wizard, breathless. with just that much permission, the nymph throws him to his back, straddling his hips. 

“i can have you?” asks the nymph, and the wizard nods. like he had been released from bonds, the nymph undresses them both, strong and nimble alike, tossing it all from the bed. he whines at just the touch of their skin together, the wizard’s hands on his hips, his body beneath him. 

his hips rock slowly, more insistently pressing them together, teasing whimpers from them both. with ease he sits up and slides them together, his head dropping back with how it feels to be full. he hasn’t had this in… a long time. it overcomes him, and he can’t help himself, fucking himself full, whimpering and gripping down onto the wizard’s hips beneath him. his breath hitches and his thighs quiver- he can’t help it, his panting overtakes him and he collapses onto his lover’s chest. 

“tired?” the wizard asks as he tucks a lock of hair back. the nymph nods and whimpers, shivers racking through his body. “you haven’t even cum and you’re this wrecked? cute.” he strains his neck to kiss his lover’s forehead before tossing them both over. he is even more radiant on his back, soft hair splayed on the pillow and jaw slack with moans as he gets fucked, deeper and faster. one hand grips a pillow behind him while his other digs into his lover’s back. 

“please,” he whimpers, legs lifting, thighs trembling. “please, please, please.” he says it over and over, until the sounds lose their meaning, the vowels disappear, he only hisses out the end of the plea as he whimpers. the wizard presses harder, holding his lover down, pulling him close, making his voice bounce. it builds as he thrusts, fucking until he feels his lover cry out and clamp down around him. he spills deep inside, lowering himself down onto the nymph’s chest as they ride it out together, bucking and whimpering. 

“withhold,” breathes the nymph, a soft laugh making his chest bounce. at once, the wizard remembers just what has befallen the man, his little turn of phrase one that had fallen out of fashion a long time ago. 

“i’m gonna take you home,” he says, drinking in the magic in the air. “you don’t belong here.”

“i’ll go anywhere you want to take me.” 

#do i have an entire magic system made up in my head about this one? yes #in fact i know exactly where th story goes after this lol #could i have written this as a short story? maybe #instead i am horny. #og #story #non monster #sorcerer

[aspiring-house-husband]

Feel free to not answer this if it's crossing boundaries. If someone got blocked for accidentally reblogging your tags because of the old ios glitch but didn't mean to, is there a chance you'd consider unblocking them? If not, totally understand. Your wriitng is amazing, keep up the good work, and I wish you well.

i mean. sure? i block ppl for vibes alone sometimes so it’s only fair i unblock for the same. send a dm :)

#inbox #fawn speaks

[aspiring-house-husband]

…oh. my god. this may be one of the longest things i’ve ever written. you want some sub/top regency kink a/b/o? you want some heat-fucking? you want some knotting? have i got a treat for you.

normally, a king would be proud to have all alpha sons. a sign of a strong bloodline, strong heirs. dominance and assurance in the future. 

this king was not proud. he was scared. all three sons were alphas- his daughters, too. every child an alpha. what would normally be a strength was a curse, as it could not help him now. 

there was a young king, butting up against their border. what had once thought to be a nuisance or even a weakness, their young king was new, inexperienced, unknown. but when the kingdom opposite this royal alpha’d family attempted to take advantage of the young and inexperienced king, their kingdom fell. the young king’s empire grew. as did his army, and his power. and his bloodlust. 

he crushed a revolt, only a year later, from his conquested kingdom’s militia. he carved out pieces from his eastern and western borders. through every battle, every negotiation, every victory, he proved that his blade, tongue, and mind were equally sharp. he was accruing power at a rate that made long-standing reigns weary. 

the kingdom he inherited by blood adored him. those kingdoms he conquered respected him. those kingdoms bordering him were terrified. 

the alpha king, of an alpha queen, with five alpha children, desperately wanted to avoid war. an ally was preferred to an enemy, and he saw what happened to kingdoms who resisted. peace was preferred, and what better way than offering a spouse to the young king, preferably an omega to be controlled and toyed with, so that the kingdom could remain uncontrolled, untouched? 

his youngest son, his sweet prince. an alpha, but the most likely to submit to a young but obviously alpha king. he was dressed in ceremonial cloth and jewels and taken to the young king. the prince was stunned by the beauty of the king… but not the ruggedness the prince expected. he was not a muscular and scarred military man with blood splattered across his chest, but instead a small man with legs crossed and his chin resting, bored, in his palm. soft hair framed a curious expression around bright, curious eyes. 

“young alpha prince,” the king says, the corners of his lips only barely tugging into a smile, “welcome to my kingdom. welcome to my home.” 

the prince kneels before the king and bows, touching his head to the floor, his robes pooled around him on the tiled floor as a great island of nobility. he stays as the king stands, graceful steps taking him to the prince. 

“quite generous of your father, sending me a toy of such noble stature.” the king circles him, his gaze drinking in the prince. “stand.” 

the prince does as ordered and raises his chin. he finds the king slightly shorter than him. “an alpha, i smell. tell me, are you afraid of me?”

the prince lets his gaze flick to the king, who still circles like a predator. 

“majesty, i will regard you however it is you should require me to,” the prince responds, and the king finally smiles full and across his face, but his eyes are dark. he comes to stand in front of the prince, and lifts a hand to his face, but stops just short of touching. 

“may i?” he asks, and the prince hesitates in surprise at the question before nodding. the king’s hand is warm as it slowly cups his face. 

“have the prince shown to his quarters and dressed,” the king addresses his men without breaking eye contact with the prince. “return him to me once he is settled in.”

the prince marvels at his living space. it has high ceilings and double paned windows that face the western skies, a plush bed larger than the one he’d had at home, and a bath with working plumbing. the hearth was alive with warm fire when he arrived, and two servants awaited to help him dress and fetch him food. not even as the prince of his kingdom had he ever felt so taken care of, so privileged. only when his handmen showed him to his wardrobe did he feel again like a plaything. his closet was not befitting a prince- it suited a concubine. hardly covering cloth draped from metal chains and jewels, his dignity spared by only a few inches. he chose the outfit that covered the most of his skin, but even that wasn’t much, and what it hardly covered could still be seen through the fabric. 

“do you know what the king wants of me?” he asked one of his handmaidens, and she shook her head. 

“i’ve long stopped questioning his intention. he hasn’t lead us wrong yet. he did order, though, that robes be made available to you, if your decency was less than to your liking.” she opened yet another wardrobe, and the prince sighed in relief that he could at least drape a large fur cloak over himself before he was sent before the king. 

he wasn’t led back to the throne room, as he had expected. instead he was taken to an office study, where the king sat hunched at the end of a long dark wood table over maps and other papers. he took a seat at the king’s left and dared not look at the scribblings, lest he be reprimanded for curiosity above his station. 

“your father is a smart man.” the king breaks the silence. “even being so far from the throne, he would’ve prepared you, yes?”

“Yes, highness,” the prince responds.

“Perhaps you will notice something i haven’t. this river isn’t supposed to flood- it never did, during my mother’s reign. but it has thrice in mine, and i can’t work out why. each time it floods, it destroys homes, and i can’t have that any longer.” 

the prince sits in stunned silence before he responds. 

“you’re asking… my opinion, sire?”

“why wouldn’t i? a pretty face does not a lesser mind make.”

the prince can only be glad his complexion hides blushes before he leans in to study the maps. 

the royals emerge hours later with flood plane maps and funding plans for village relocation drawn up. the king takes the hand of the prince and sends him back to his chambers, but not without first again holding his face. 

“my pet, from now on,” he says, his smile unexpectedly fond, “sit at my right hand.”

the bed is too plush for the prince; he cannot stop his mind from wandering. the king was not at all what he had expected. not just small and soft, beautiful and graceful instead of rugged and rough, but also kind, generous. though the prince was rarely called anything but ‘toy’, ‘pet’, ‘gift’, he was treated like not only a royal but a confidant, an advisor. the touches that he had expected from his new king had never come, and those that did were only soft enough to make him desire more. and his plush pillows were no help, hugged into the curve of his frame and just the right plushness. it made him buck before falling asleep. made him grind as he woke. made him whimper through his dreams of serving the king as he once thought he would be required to. 

“highness,” the prince begins one morning, over breakfast. “is there anything more i could be doing for you?”

“for me?” the king asks, setting down his utensils and locking his fingers together, resting his chin to his knuckles and his elbows to the table. “how so?”

“i am but to serve you,” says the prince, “it is my purpose, my life. if there would ever be anything more you need from me, you need only ask.” 

he couldn’t be sure, but the prince swore he smelled an arousal spike, and for the first time it made him wonder at the king’s designation. all had assumed him an alpha, but not once had the prince smelled an alpha scent from him. until this moment, in fact, not a scent at all… his eyes drifted to the metal chains that wrapped his neck with links and leather. the prince has assumed these pieces armor, but maybe they were more. maybe they hid the king’s scent. 

“you are servant to me,” echos the king, fondness in his voice and tugging at the end of his lips. “you believe so?”

“i am lost to it,” says the prince, wishing he could take back how his voice cracked. too many times recently had he been erect in the presence of the king, his only disguise being his fur cloaks. too many time had he woken up dripping with the idea of the king ordering him around, owning him the way he truly was owned. 

“very well,” says the king, and he stands from his breakfast. “walk with me.” the prince gladly does so, half a pace behind the king. 

“with honesty, i have been waiting,” he says, hands clasped at his back. “when i took you as my own, i wanted it to be of your choice. i couldn’t help but be impatient.” 

the king’s chamber door opened into a small room first, empty but for light furniture. this is where the king turned to the prince, hopping up onto a table top to sit nearly the same height as the prince. 

“touch me,” he says, his voice not even close to hard enough for it to be an order. the prince obeys nonetheless, his fingers rising up the king’s sides to tease his tunic over his head. still, the leather and link around the king’s neck remains. the prince moans with the skin revealed to him, and breathes out raggedly. 

“you mustnt tell anyone,” the king says, and the prince blindly nods without knowing what he was meant to keep secret, far too focused on exploring the king with his hands and the way the king’s legs have latched into him and knocked the fur cloak from his body. he manages, though, to follow the king’s hands to the armor around his neck, and a few seconds later the armor falls to his lap. 

the prince’s head spins. not only was the king’s scent entirely new to him, new and perfect, but it was omega scent. it was omega, and aroused, and strong, and so incredibly sweet smelling that it must’ve been crafted just for him. if he hadn’t been hard, he would’ve swelled to full size from the smell alone. 

“don’t be dumbfounded,” the king says, “i know i’m an omega, but that’s why i’m so strong in battle, so people-“ 

“i don’t care,” says the prince, diving his face to the king’s neck and scooping the king by the legs into his arms, “i don’t care what people assume about you. you smell so good, highness, that i wouldn’t care if they all were watching us, right now.” 

the king moaned and held onto the prince as he opened the door to the king’s bedroom. he had never seen it before, and now he could guess why- the scent of omega, aroused and needy, hung heavy in the air. the prince placed the king down in his bed, which now that he could see, he could tell was filled with pillows and blankets, woven into a perfect nest. still he did not leave the king’s neck, salivating over the scent that made his head spin. he lathered open-mouthed kisses along his neck, scraping his teeth over the omega’s scent gland and prompting a wanton moan straight from the prince’s dreams. the prince cursed under his breath and unthinkingly thrusted his hips, his thin clothing doing nothing to hide either his arousal or the sensation of grinding against the warmth of the king’s body. 

“pet,” says the king, breathing ragged but hands still strong as he holds the prince away from him, just enough. “undress me, pet.” the prince didn’t nod, didn’t hesitate, just pushed the king onto his back and grabbed his waistband, lifting his hips as he yanked downward. he did it with ferocity, desperation, and hardly had the mind to hear the king’s chuckle over the sight he was greeted with. the king’s hole was nothing short of everything he’d dreamed of in every rut-fevered sleep, soft and wet and warm, so wet he was dripping. the scent was strong and still so sweet, tuned to his nose alone, like it was made for him. he kneeled before his king and held onto his thighs, sliding forward, but the king closed his legs and trapped the prince just beyond his knees. 

“my king?” he asked, desperate eyes looking up at the king as his chest heaved. was this what catching an omega’s heat felt like? he had rut before, but this was different, like he was driven by something external and so ravenous that he could devour the king. but he didn’t smell heat, as he had before from his oldest brother’s wife. the sticky sweet smell wasn’t among the king’s scent, his beautiful dripping warm and wet and soft scent. this feeling was all his own, without heat, without rut. he was this pathetically desperate, all his own. 

the king had sat up, and finally his hands pet through the prince’s hair, held his jaw. 

“put your mouth to me, pet,” says the king, “your lips, your tongue. and don’t emerge until you’ve tasted my high and swallowed it. don’t come out of it until you’ve smeared yourself in my slick and no one will be able to even smell your breath without knowing i’ve been on your tongue.” 

with an unprompted moan the king falls back down into his bed and opened his legs for the prince, who presses the king’s thighs further open and eats like a starving animal. he nearly cums through his clothes at the taste, his cock strained and weeping and impossibly, painfully hard. he does not spare a hand for himself, too focused on the king’s bucking hips, his loud moan whenever he sucked against the king’s cock, the way his moans cracked and whimpered when he dove his tongue deep. to his surprise, it doesn’t take long; the king clamps down around his tongue and bathes his face in the smells of satisfaction and warmth and arousal and most of all, need. 

the prince feels like a wild animal rising from his kill, his face dripping and his breathing rough. the king looks upon him with pleasure, his breath hard, chest rising and falling rapidly. 

“toy, love,” says the king, barely untangling his fingers from where they had gripped into his bedsheets, “i had planned to do a lot of walking tomorrow. force me to change my plans.” 

the prince shivers and undresses himself quickly. the clothing he wore couldve easily been torn, or even pulled to the side, but he took the time to yank them from his body, catching sight of his own cock for the first time that morning. he was surprised to notice an angry, throbbing knot- he had rut? 

his hesitation catches the attention of the king, who sits up enough to see the knot, and his moan is nothing but heavenly as he falls to the bed again. 

“i’ll milk that best if you’ve had me twice more,” promises the king. “get me there, toy.”

thrusting into the king nearly had him over the edge, but he couldn’t swell his knot without being deep inside the king, without satisfying his orders. he had to control himself, had to fuck into the king’s sloppy, throbbing, hot and wet hole without losing himself to it, but it felt like a pointless battle. he was too far gone, the scent of omega burning in his nose and making his eyes half lid, his hips snapping into the king and pulling back only halfway before impacting with the king’s tightly wrapped legs before thrusting deep again. 

he growled in dissatisfaction—not the right angle, not deep enough, not lewd enough moans from the king—and pulled out to flip the king onto his stomach, pulling his hips back, and thrusting in. the noise he pulled from his omega was high-pitched and filthy, and the prince’s gaze moves between the hungry and soaking wet hole that suckles against his knot with every thrust, and the blissful expression and soft, drooling lips of the king, pressed into his bedsheets. 

he barely notices as the king gets tighter, and tighter, before he clamps down again and screams, his voice broken but loud, catching and announcing every shudder, pulse, tremble, twitch, broken with soft words the prince could barely hear, words as “toy,” and “love,” and “yes,” and “pet,” and, the worst of them all, the one that had him throbbing, “alpha.”

the prince pulls out to flip the king over again. he is pliant and panting, flushed down the front of his body and looking up at the prince with undisguised adoration, obsession, lust. the prince has to look away to focus; he wants nothing more than to be inside the king and satisfy him again, but he needs to make it better. the nest he had crawled into is well constructed, and he wouldn’t dare rip at the pillows built into walls, but there is one that doesn’t seem to be for either structure or for laying heads on, one that seems thick enough. he lifts the king and lays the pillow under his back, propping up his hips to the prince, splaying his thighs open to show the soaked and reddened, throbbing, abused hole. the prince has to break his own hypnosis to move his eyes away and back to the king. 

he crawls up, cock hard beneath him, and for the first time kisses the king, their mouths dancing together, tongues tangling and teeth clacking. he sinks into the king’s hole like he belongs there, lined up perfectly and finding no resistance. the king moans into his mouth and his arms come up around the prince, nails latching to his back. 

“knot me,” begs the king, his ankles locking behind the prince. “knot me full, take me, mark me deep.”

the words were pleas, not orders, but the prince obeys without question. he thrusts into the king with what feels like every ounce of power in his body, deep and fast and strong. his body is alight- every sensation his to memorize. the sting of his omega’s nails on his shoulder blades. the lustful moans just next to his ear. the near-stickiness as their bodies part before coming together again. the warmth of his omega’s body. the heavenly softness of his hole. every sensation, his, and too easy to burn into his mind forever. his omega begins to tighten, to whimper, his moans sliding higher pitched, and the prince keeps his same pace, desperate to please and to do as the king ordered. the king does not cum, yet, holds himself with tension in every muscle and teeth bared. 

“knot me, alpha,” he whispers, eyes bright and hungry. “so deep your seed will never find its way back out.”

the prince drops his gaze to where they meet, his knot nestled against the king’s entrance, and he lifts himself so that he can hold onto the king’s hips. he stares at the fluttering muscle of the king’s body, trying to suck him deeper, trying to be one with him, and his mind swims. still, he pulls, strong and slowly pulling the king toward him as he pushes his hips closer. the king breathes shallow, unable to see where they meet and so watching the prince, pliant and soft and beautiful as the prince guides them together. he pulls with more strength, grits his teeth, pushes forward until they snap together, knocking the prince onto his elbows again, face inches away from the king’s, who looks lustful but bewildered, as though he has looked upon heaven for the first time. 

“alpha,” he breathes, unfocused eyes finally moving to the prince. “my alpha.”

“my omega,” answers the prince, and he kisses him deeply. 

he rocks his hips gently, unable to move the knot but just enough to pull the climax they had both been seconds from. it crashes over the king, who thrashes and screams, and washes over the prince, who collapses and spills. he can feel them throbbing in time, his omega’s hole milking him, pulling everything from him. they bask in it for an eternity, unable to move, unable to speak, hardly able to breathe. finally, the king touches his face again. 

“my pet, from now on,” he says, his eyes unfocused and body still trembling, “sleep in my bed. never leave my side. never let me be without you.”

“i am servant to you,” the prince echoes the king’s words of hours ago. “i am whatever you require.”

“whatever i require?” the king repeats, his eyes lazing closed, blissful enough in his knotting and his alpha’s rut to fall asleep, still clamped around a knot and milking it gently. “you are mine.”

the prince no longer felt the need to wear his fur cloaks. whatever skin that the kingdom could see was marked with the king’s adoration, scratches and bites and hickeys decorating every bit of his body. he fetched the king breakfast and helped him dress, but equally undressed him around hallway corners and beneath banquet tables. he let the stuck-up old nobles turn up their noses at his hard cock trapped beneath only shear fabric, all thoughts of embarrassment wiped away by the soft touch of his king, squeezing him and reminding him of the privilege only he wields. 

an alpha prince, servant to an omega king. a pet for pleasure and a lover. a toy. 

#a/b/o #og #story #non monster #prince #public #heat

[aspiring-house-husband]

dick so good it makes me want to: 

bite him

kiss his forehead

ride him till i pop a hip

wash the dishes after he cooks me dinner

suck him off

buy him magic cards

show him sunsets

fondle him in the car 

fall asleep next to him

bite him. 

bury him in blankets

tie him up

bark

kiss him even through the morning breath

blindfold him

write limericks

fuck myself in the shower

drive around so he can sleep a little longer in the passenger seat

stay with him even when the water gets cold

bite him. 

listen to the songs he sends me

get off to his voice 

wake him up by grabbing his dick

listen to him whimper

press my face into his chest

bite him. 

go out to dinner and maybe even pay for dinner

rub his back

watch whatever movie he wants 

wiggle into him while he’s spooning me 

kneel for him 

bite him. 

moan loud enough that our neighbors might hear

nap while watching a movie

cover him in hickeys 

cum my brains out underneath him

bite him. 

(a non comprehensive list)

#og #almost shitpost #fawn speaks #non monster

[aspiring-house-husband]

Sunset and Night dance together every evening. 

Sunset is orange and reds and blazing fire. he draws whisps with his fingertips and bathes the worlds in pinks and reds, even hidden behind the clouds. he beckons to the world- notice, my lover comes. 

he ushers Night forth with grace and loving admiration. Night is blues and blacks, soothing blankets of darkness dotted in stars. he cools the earth in his gentle care. yet he does not come until Sunset hands his care of the sky off- and Sunset refuses to do so until they’ve had their proper greeting. 

Sunset casts his arms around Night, blues and blacks joining reds and pinks to create the lovely purples of dusk, burning out on the horizon. their touch is nothing short of reverent, blissful in the arms of the other. pleasure sparks across the sky with every new star and every cloud still blazing red, painted by the last rays of a dying sun too far beyond the horizon to reach the ground and mirrored by the soft touch of the other, whisping fingertips dragging down cool skin. their mixture is heaven, with Sunset’s fire tempered by Night’s gentle hands, purples more brilliant than imaginable while they grasp at each other, meeting, becoming one, until Night overtakes his lover and subdues his ferocity. 

Night leaves his lover to rest as he marks the sky in his image, preserving the light of his lover among the stars, and waiting oh so impatiently until they meet again. until then, he thinks, as dawn overtakes him, he shall lay beside Sunset and dream of touches and purples far beyond the most beautiful on earth. fate ordains that they dance together every evening- and so every evening they will fall into each other, dance with one another, and taste dusk on each other’s skin, fire and red meeting cool and blue in a thousand different ways, each one more perfect than the last. 

#sometimes i’m not even writing nsfw i’m just writing poetry #og #non monster #story #gods #i guess

[aspiring-house-husband]

yes, im watching anastasia. 

I would know you anywhere, he tells me, my prince, i finally found you. 

I am no prince, at least, as far as i know. but the knight is insistent- he says he knows me, remembers me, from childhood. from when he trained, his solemn duty to protect the royal family. he’s convinced me well enough to get me onto a train to the palace, in a far too fancy private room. 

the prince. still, it’s been a decade since the prince disappeared, how could it be me? 

how could it not be? he takes my hand, cradling my fingers in his palm, kisses my knuckles. I shiver at the contact. His lips are chapped.

The hands of royalty… he lowers my hand so that he can kiss the muscle just below my elbow. I can’t break my eyes from him, how reverently he touches me. 

The smooth skin… he turns my arm over just a bit, so that he can press his lips to the inside of my arm. 

You are nothing short of regal. 

He bows his head, pressing his forehead to my bicep. His breath fans softly against the skin of my inner wrist, warm and moist, and his cadence is almost too quick. 

knight… i whisper to him, terrified to speak any louder. 

you are to be treasured, your highness. finally he looks up at me again. you deserve to be treasured. 

I couldn’t guess why I suggest it. it’s just… right. 

Treasure me, i say, and he wastes no time to sweep me off my feet, delivering me onto my back in the far too large bed. he kisses up my arm again until he pulls my collar open with his teeth, pressing a kiss against my collarbone. my eyes close and i arch my back, as he undoes the rest of my clothes, opening my chest to the air. i want to feel him against me, but he lifts away, making me open my eyes again. 

he’s kneeling at the base of the bed, next i see him. he takes off his shirt unceremoniously and tosses it aside without a thought, but with gentle hands he grasps my ankles and pulls me across the bed to him. nimble fingers unlace my boots and pull them from me, then my socks, then my pants. just as with my arm, he kisses up my leg- my shin, my knee, my thigh, until finally he kisses between my thighs just not quite where i want him. he pulls my underclothes from me and without warning his tongue is on me, skillful and flicking and moist and warm, making me grip his hair and arch my back again. he slips a finger beside his tongue, and it’s divine, stretching me and pressing into me. he’s perfect. he’s the only thing connecting me to earth. he’s lifting me, readying me, throwing me- 

he pulls away just before i go over the edge, and his eyes are dark and hungry as he wipes the slick from his lips. 

let me worship you, your majesty, he says, crawling over my body until he can press our hips together. he’s hard and throbbing against me. 

yes, i breathe, canting my hips up and arching my back. he uses one hand to free himself from his pants - hard, aching, dripping - and presses himself to my entrance. 

your highness, he breathes, tantalizingly close, and he has one last shred of self respect in his eyes as his gaze meets mine. I do not deserve the privilege of having you. 

don’t be silly, i wish i could tell him. you deserve the body you’ve teased. 

i’m no prince, take me. 

you’ve come this far, take pity on me. 

But he would not accept these words. he would only accept an order from his prince, so my arms wrap around his neck and i force his lips to mine before he can talk himself down. 

does your prince not deserve the pleasure of his knight? i ask, and he moans before thrusting deep into me, one smooth motion, slow and pleasurable. i moan into his mouth when he kisses me, arch into his hand as he touches me, and buck into his hips as he fucks me. there hasn’t ever been anything like this, not for me- he’s fast and strong and his hands hold me in place when they aren’t lovingly tracing shapes in my skin. i scream and cum and buck across the bed, and he only lets me recover in the time it takes for him to pull out, toss me into my stomach with a pillow propping me up, and thrust into me again. still, he kisses down my back, hitting places inside of myself i never knew were there. 

you will know pleasure, highness, he growls, and it isn’t long before i cum again, dropping my head down into the pillows. i can hardly hold myself together. i can’t at all hold in my moans. everyone in the train car must have heard the sounds he pulled from me, the simpering moans and whines and pleas for more. he speeds up, and surely he’s getting close, with his higher pace and deeper thrusts and soft grunts, but it takes just long enough that it throws me over the edge just one more time, just before he spills inside me. he flops on top of me as i shudder, twitching and exhausted and panting beneath his weight. 

some prince i must be, i whisper, ruined in a traincar by a knight. 

some prince you are, he says, punctuating it with a kiss to my temple, to still be so handsome, even ruined. 

#og #non monster #story #prince

[aspiring-house-husband]

he laughs a bit as he picks it up. some random ring he found… nothing of note. a nice quality metal with a fairly large gemstone, swimming with beautiful color. your favorite color. but he doesn’t wear rings, so he offers it to you. 

wouldn’t you want to sell it? you ask. you’re the one that found it. 

why would i, when i can give it to you? he says. youre my friend. 

you find that it only fits on your ring finger. a coincidence, but not crazy. it’s beautiful, though, exactly the gemstone cut you’ve found yourself eyeing in the past, and such a rich color. 

you’ve been wearing that ring a lot, he says with a smile, and you blush. 

i just like it. it… fits me. 

he slips his hand into your palm and kisses the ring before you can react. it makes you look at his handsome face. it makes you look at the swirling colors in the deep gemstone. 

your coworker asks if you’re engaged. it makes your face burn, and you say no, but laugh off that your friend gave it to you. 

your sister asks who the lucky man is. you giggle and answer that it’s him. but you’re not engaged- he just gave it to you. 

a saleswoman says that you must have a good man. you blush as you think of him. he is a good man. 

but he’s not… he’s not your fiancé. right? 

he invites you over for the night, and you expect pizza and video games, but you find yourself dressing up anyway, matching the quality of the ring. dressing to impress him, your… friend? 

you don’t expect dinner, and having the chair pulled out for you. you don’t expect him to kiss your ring again. you don’t expect the candle smell and the low lighting. the calming movie. the delicious food. the rosewater with its petals decorating the table. he’s swept you off your feet, and when he holds your hand, he runs his thumb over your ring. 

“i’m so glad i’m in love with you.” the words stumble out of you, natural as a waterfall.

his arms come around your waist as he backs you into his bedroom. your bedroom..? ever since…

“don’t think,” he breathes, and licks the thought into your mouth. “you’re with me.”

with him. you’re with him. he’s perfect. your bedroom is filled with candlelight and the sheets are soft. not familiar, but… aren’t they? 

he undresses you like he’s done it before, because of course he has, hasn’t he? and the shiver of his touch isn’t because it’s unfamiliar, it’s because he just incites that in you. it’s always new, with him. ever since you’ve been in love. always. 

you call to the sky when he gets his tongue on you. you hold onto his hair and whimper and kiss him when he comes up for air and tastes of you. 

“my fiancé,” you whisper breathlessly into his mouth, and he laughs like you’ve said something silly. 

“husband, remember?” 

of course you do. it only makes sense. that gorgeous ring he gave you when you got engaged… it must’ve been so long ago, but he sweeps you off your feet, it’s such a whirlwind. it feels like yesterday. but you’d left your wedding ring at the bedside when you washed your hands before dinner, like always, and you’d forgotten to put it on. of course. of course. 

your life is perfect. your husband fucks you and kisses your ring and you stare at the swirling colors in the deep gemstone. he kisses your forehead while he thrusts deeper into you and watches the colors of the gemstone reflect in your eyes. he tells you every day how much he loves you as he makes you breakfast. he polishes your rings for you, so that their shining metals and gorgeous colors never dull. 

you remember how he gave it to you. you’d been in love with him for years until he got onto one knee. you accepted him as your husband with nothing short of joy. 

and he got to watch the rich colors of the gemstones swim in your eyes, revealing to you just how deeply you loved him, and wonder if its color in your face make him fall ever deeper in love with you, too. 

#og #hypnosis #cnc hypnosis #non monster #story #enjoy some hypno that’s barely porn

[aspiring-house-husband]

what is eroticism if not the taste of your blood. what is love if not your flesh in my teeth, lingering, carried with me, stuck. what is intimacy without your tortured breath on my skin and our fury mixing together. i am not who i would be without you. you are not who you could be because of me. we are forged together and forced together and held together and we kill each other and we die without each other. we are flesh and blood and sex and love and death and passion. no one is allowed to kill you but me. touching you is holy. touching you is hell. you’ve changed my life in a thousand ways and my only reward for your thousand lights are a thousand shadows. i will know your body, every bit of it, i will carve it open and know it all. i will know your soul even if i have to dig it out myself. you’ll see me as you die. i’ll sing you to sleep. what is love without knowing that we hate each other. what is hate without the pain of being apart. there is no life without you. there is no peace with you. i would spend the rest of my life holding you. i would kill you sooner than hold you. i would die rather than hurt you. i’m yours.

#y’all would riot if you knew what inspired this post #og #monster #non monster #story #ish #dark #cw: gore #maybe?

[aspiring-house-husband]

how does that proverb go? love is kind, patient, forgiving… whatever it says. love is not fragile. i will not let it be so. 

we were six weeks short of our wedding, when he was bitten. i tended the wound for days, carefully keeping it clean and dry with bandages well-sealed beneath a soft kiss. but then he disappeared, and i could no longer look after him as we did our daily duties. 

well fine. i’ll just have to go get him. 

it’s not hard to track what happened to him. our regiment had been sent with the rest of the brigade to assist in defending the eastern farmland from a werewolf problem. we’d been fighting man-beasts, but the creature that bit him was smaller, only animal shaped. we’d assumed it was a fox. we must’ve been wrong. 

so i don my armor and trek back out to the woods and call for him. 

“go away,” says his voice from the trees, coarser and poorly formed, as though forcing syllables through a mouth not shaped for them. 

“i will not,” i answer, relief evident in my smile. “you wouldn’t dare turn me away.”

“please.” i stepped further into the trees, following his voice. “please, please don’t.”

“my love,” i silence him, stalking him through the foliage until he is finally revealed to me. he is hulking large and hairy, joints extended and face elongated with too sharp teeth and too long claws. but i see him beneath it, and i take his hand gently, lifting it to my face. i know of him, of his soul, and know he wouldn’t hurt me, so i kiss the pad of his paw. 

“you are no monster to me, my love.”

he leans down and rests a great snout on my shoulder, pressing his forehead to my jaw. he’s larger than me, a few heads taller and broader. he wraps animal arms around me and lifts me, letting me settle into the coarse but warm fur. when he rests down onto his back, i shuck off my armor, so i can feel him only through fabric. 

“you are still my love, my only,” i promise him, running my fingers down to part fur and touch skin. “i will have you in any form.”

i know he’s hard beneath me, it’s impossible to ignore. he’s panting for more than just the reasons of a new snout, he aches for me. it’s familiar and easy to fall into, so i lay onto his chest and grind back on him, coaxing him out. 

“you tease me,” he breathes out, and i laugh while grinding more insistently. 

“it’s only teasing if there’s disingenuity,” i answer, pulling my shirt over my head. “i have never been a bluffing man.”

he takes hold of me to lift me up and allow me to pull the rest of my clothes from my body. once he sets me back down, i smear my wetness through his fur, but if he minds, he doesn’t say.

there are some things that feel new every time, and grinding against his cock with nothing separating us is one of them. i can’t help but moan and simper as he throbs, desperate and warm and bigger than he’s ever been. 

“my love,” i whimper out, gripping into his fur. 

“please,” he forces from between teeth, and i lift up to sink over him. 

forget the newly turned wolf, i almost howl as he settles inside me. he fills me up and touches every spot, makes it feel like there are words or moans rising in the back of my throat that can’t come out. i gag on the sensation, fluttering around him and twitching, whimpering, eyes rolling back. 

he grips my hips and moves me like a toy, slamming me down on him over and over again, his tempo even and strong and insistent, forcing me to his base over and over. with every pass it feels harder to pull away again, my tightening hole desperate to hold onto the fullness. 

finally, he can’t slip me right down to the base, and i wiggle to assist him in pushing me down. his success rewards us both with pleasure before unknown, as he fills me in ways and places i wouldn’t have thought possible, and his newly formed knot is squeezed and locked inside me. he twitches with it and sits up, trapping me against his chest as his hips piston toward me, but there’s nowhere for me to go. he barely rocks his knot against my entrance, but still i squeeze around him, gripping into his fur and whimpering. 

“please, please,” i beg, breath and thoughts long gone. “inside me, fuck, let me cum.”

and he does. he slams his hips once more for good measure as my words undo him, his cock throbbing inside me and filling me. the stretch of it makes my head fall back, exposing my neck, my shoulder. the pleasure spreads through my body, and having been so close, it throws me over the edge. i shudder and convulse, incapable of restraining myself, kept from falling only by being so stuck on his knot. 

when i come down from my high, his knot still hasn’t budged, and pleasure ripples through me a second time. so i am to be stuck here a while… what a shame. i’ll simply have to ride his knot with all the strength i can muster and see if i can make him howl. 

no monster at all. 

#og #story #monster #werewolf #knot #outdoor #public

[aspiring-house-husband]

There is a temple, deep and hidden away in the mountains. it is well known to the locals and the people whose legends had survived in the area. it is a temple that was extremely difficult to get into, and even more difficult to leave. it belongs to the god of conflict and passion. the god of war. the god of sex. 

you and your partner were determined to find it. 

you repelled down the rock face of the mountain and slid your way through half-buried arches to get inside, only to be astonished by how clean the temple had been kept. sure, it was mossy, but the stone was smooth and clean and hardly worn by time. 

“hello,” says your partner, and you turn to him. 

“what?”

“yes, i am,” he says, staring off to nothing. 

“are you okay?” finally he turns to you, only briefly. 

“shh, can’t you hear that?”

“no, what are you talking about?” he ignores your question again, and speaks away from you. 

“no, i would never. i wished to visit, only.”

when he doesn’t speak, there is silence. 

“well, i suppose, i-“ he cuts himself off with a gasp, and arches his back. touched by nothing, he begins to levitate off the floor. 

“yes, please, god,” he moans, and his clothes fall from his body, cut into ribbons. with his back arching, you are treated to the sight of his hole, glistening with wetness but more notably opening and closing, clenching around nothing. as you watch, gold chains and jewels materialize and drape around his body, while he gains the meaning of super-human: his beauty grows as he writhes midair, his skin gaining color and flush, his hair growing silky. he moans as he clenches and you can’t help but stare at his gorgeous hole, thinking of how it would… how he might feel…

“i accept, yes, yes!” he pants and nearly screams to whatever voice only he is hearing before he cums, his body quivering and fluid dripping down his legs to the floor. his body lowers until he stands on trembling legs, panting, and when he looks at you, his eyes are no longer the color you’re accustomed to, but a fiery orange. 

“my friend,” he says, sliding to you and running his fingers up your clothed chest. “do you know what’s happened to me?”

“n-no,” you barely manage to whimper out, trying to ignore how lovely he looks and how close he is and how hard you are. 

“i am one with our god,” he answers, sliding those teasing fingers up and under your shirt, tracing delicately up your chest. “soon you will be, too.”

“wait, what? hold on-“

“shh,” he soothes, and without moving you himself you are lifted into the air, suspended on your back. he straddles your hips and splays his hands over your waist, leaning down slow to kiss the skin he’s exposed by pushing up your shirt. 

“beautiful,” he says, a sultry smile gracing his lips. when he shifts his hips, he gives you so much friction that you hadn’t been prepared for, and it makes you buck before you can stop yourself. 

“ah, good boy,” he teases, and draws his hand over your stomach. the motion seems to be connected to magic, because your clothes fall from you in ribbons, just as his had. 

“don’t shiver,” he says with a soft laugh, that same that you’ve heard a hundred times. he leans down over you and kisses down your chest, stopping to suck on your nipple, just to watch you flush. 

“you’re mine, aren’t you, handsome?” he says, kissing every spot of skin he can find, pulling at your arms until he can guide your hands to his hips. 

“yes,” you answer, and he lifts up to sink down over you. gods, it feels like you glow. 

“be one with me,” he says, but it sounds like he speaks with more than just his voice. “be mine in more than just body and heart.” he bounces, even though he has nothing to balance on, gripping you and squeezing around you and moaning to the ceiling. 

“i’m yours,” you pant, lifting your neck but not feeling the strain you normally do. you buck up, pulling a near-squeal from him, because it feels like more than just being ridden. gods, it’s like you’re feeling him, too. feeling double the pleasure, his orgasm building beneath his belly button, how it felt to have you inside him, filling him up. it was incredible, like connecting to something beyond yourself. 

“mine,” he moans, and pleasure like nothing you had ever known overtook you. 

there’s a reason the temple was just as hard to leave as it was to find. how could you even think of leaving? why would you? life there was perfect… under the protection of your god, and wrapped in the silky embrace of your lover. forever. 

#with these posted i retreat back into my cave #i crawl from the woodwork to place a story on the floor every six months before disappearing again #eat up #og #story #non monster #hypnosis #ish? #possession #ish

[aspiring-house-husband]

hundreds of battles with his arch nemesis, and it’s some random villain that kidnaps the hero. 

you’re blindfolded and gagged, your wrists bound and bound again to a chair. and you didn’t even know who had kidnapped you. 

but you heard some grunts, and the door to your cell slid open with footsteps pounding toward you. 

“i got you,” says whoever it is, and they pull the gag from your mouth. 

“thank you,” you breathe, holding still as your rescuer slams a blade through the ropes holding you to the chair. you stand quickly, but hear thugs coming through the door. 

“i’ll get you out,” he promises, and you feel a gentle hand on your stomach swiping you behind him. 

“unmask me, i can help,” you say, but you’re drowned out by the sounds of the fight. it doesn’t take long for your rescuer to gently touch your shoulder. 

“follow me,” he says, and turns from you. his hand begins to slip from your shoulder as he runs, but you catch up to him and find his hand still extended behind him, guiding you, his fingertips just barely keeping contact with your chest. you follow him blindly, as though stumbling through sleep to chase a dream, until he stops you softly and closes a door behind you. 

“it’s alright,” he says, and pushes you back into a padded chair, likely a couch. it’s soft enough that you don’t mind leaning against your bound hands. “let’s get that off.”

you close your eyes as he pulls the blindfold from your head, and you open them to the face of your arch nemesis, the terrible villain. 

“hello, gorgeous,” he says, his teasing smile too familiar. he’s got one hand pressed to the back of the couch behind you, leaning over you. “long time, no see.”

“you rescued me?” you ask. 

“of course,” he answers, leaning closer and letting his gaze wander your face. “you truly think i’d let anyone have the glory of your capture but me?”

“i didn’t-“ you choke off your own response as he lifts one knee up and indents the couch beside your hip. he says nothing, but keeps a smile as he lifts his other leg and settles down into your lap. 

“didn’t what?” he asks. “didn’t expect me to be here? to know where to find you?” his second hand boxes in the other side of your head as he scoots his hips closer. “i make sure you never leave my sight, pretty boy.” 

your throat’s dry as you swallow before you answer. “never?”

“never”, he answers, his hands sliding down to your shoulders, then the side of your neck. “i know all of what you do.” 

you can’t quite hold back the shudder as he shifts his hips again, this time more insistently, with more intent. he lets out a soft breath as he goes, and presses his forehead to yours. 

“i couldn’t let anyone else have you.” he slips his lips against yours, and moans into your mouth while his hands slide down to your waistband. 

“h-have me?”

“you’re mine,” he answers, digging his fingers down until he can free your cock from your pants. “everyone can see it.” he wraps his fingers around you, and swallows your moan. “everyone knows that it’s you and me, against each other, together. no one else.”

“i- i didn’t-“

“shh,” he says, lifting himself up and pulling his clothes off. “you know it’s true. you know that no one will understand you like i do. don’t you?” he breathes out in ecstasy as he lowers himself over you. “i can’t have anyone but you,” he pants, mouthing from your lips down to your chin, making you raise it and breathe out toward the ceiling. 

“and i won’t let anyone have you but me.”

he stops talking as he starts moving, pressing his whole body against you as he goes. your fingers flex against their binds, wishing you could hold his hips. your confusion submits to pleasure as he moves, chest to chest with you, his warmth radiating to you. he chants your name in prayer, softly, resting his forehead onto your shoulder so you can barely feel his lips brush against you while he speaks. 

your name changes to pleas as his movement speeds up, and you can’t help but give in to the tightness in your stomach as he clenches, whimpering before he cums against you. you never thought it would feel like this, to cum inside your nemesis, to know the villain so intimately. 

he shudders against you, whimpering non-words and kissing them into your collarbone. 

“shh,” you breathe against his ear, kissing the side of his head. “it’s alright.”

“all mine,” he breathes, his chest still shaking with his afterglow. you breathe for a moment, resting your temple to him. 

“free me,” you whisper, and one hand of his drops to your back to nimbly untie the binds. you lift your arms to his back just to hold him closer. “i can be yours,” you promise, carding your fingers through his hair. “you can be good, and i’ll be yours.”

“good,” he scoffs, and pulls away to kiss you, rough and demanding. “there’s no good in me. just selfishness. loyalty and rage and obsession. and all of it for you.”

he kisses you again, and you close your eyes into it. the moment you do, a sharp impact smacks into your head, and you wake up back in your own home, hours later. 

the only evidence left is a hickey on your collarbone and the rope burn on your wrists. 

#hi 👋 #og #story #non monster

[aspiring-house-husband]

Had someone I thought was gonna be got spam like my posts, which I love btw, but then they had to go and ruin it by defending Harry Potter.

Reminder we fucking hate TERFs here, and Joanna has publicly said supporting her work is supporting her ideals. Any support for HP is TERF behavior. You will be blocked on sight.

[aspiring-house-husband]

Hey probably overthinking this but why'd you like my selfie post if you're gay?

No problem! A few reasons:

you’re a gorgeous woman

i liked the vibes of the post

aesthetic attraction has nothing to do with sexuality

i’m only 98% gay

all trans people are hot as fuck regardless of the oppressive boxes of labeled and binary sexuality

I hope that i didn’t unknowingly cause you dysphoria. good vibes to you

#inbox #fawn speaks

[aspiring-house-husband]

Hi! I absolutely love the way you write, I've been reading through your latest stories for about an hour or two now-

Just wondering, are your characters transmasc? There are often references to a character both getting eaten out and also cumming with liquid, so yeah!

Again, love your work! (Would tip if I could)

thanks for the lovely compliments!

as i myself am transmasc, i often write my characters in some flux between cis male and trans male. i am not overly specific for a reason, which is that i don’t want it to be cut and dry. anyone could find themselves in my work. depending on the piece, i may write it with the idea that the character has one set of genitalia, or often both. i don’t over explain so that no one is boxed out.

this is to say i do intentionally reflect and invoke transmasculine experience, but i do not want to answer that all characters are transmasc, simply because i visualize the male body in a spectrum of ways.

#inbox #fawn speaks

[aspiring-house-husband]

[aspiring-house-husband]

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