cinnamon girl

The sight in front of you was beautifully wicked. You, naked and spread on Rafe’s lap, and him fully clothed, a cigarette dangling from his bleeding lips, nursing a drink in one hand, the other holding your jaw in a grip that bothered on painful.

Your eyes drifted to the lit cigarette, the glowing ember dangerously close to your thigh. You squirm, trying to get away, but he just chuckles, finding your poor attempt at escape pathetic.

“Rafe, please…”

His eyes lock onto yours through the mirror, and he shows them pearly whites, mocking you without ever saying a single word.

“Please what?”

“It's gonna hurt me,” you whimper, voice broken and desperate.

“Is it? I bet you won’t like that,” his eyes were dark now. He didn't look like himself, lost in whatever world he claims his own.

He moves the cigarette closer to your skin, draping you in a warmth you never asked for. Scared he'd hurt you, you grab his hand in a weak attempt to stop him, hoping this would bring him back to his senses.

This seemed to work, as he huffs out a laugh, before leaning in to place soft pecks to the side of your neck. You barely had time to calm your rushing heart, thankful he shifted his hand away, when a sharp, excruciating pain filled your nerves.

Your screams were muffled by his huge palm, and you could feel his grin against your skin. He pouts as he looks at your pained features through the reflection, the tears streaming down your face, the mark on your neck that screamed his name.

“Bite back, baby. Make me feel something again.”

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬: @sassandscribbles @highonmarvel

"I didn't understand today's lecture..."

"Why? Professor Adler not teaching you right?" He asks with casual ease, as if his fingers weren't inching closer and closer to your bare, dripping pussy.

It was a rule— you want him to teach you, you take off your panties. Simple. Just like all things were for him.

“I— I never understood a single word he said,” you whisper, guilt underlining each word, “because... you sent me your picture.”

You could feel his grin on your skin, shameless and proud, “You're so dumb, baby. One picture and all you could think about was my cock. You're such a filthy slut under all that good girl guise, yeah?”

He lands a quick smack to your cunt, the wet sound echoing in his dorm room. You cry out his name, clutching onto his thick forearm as he soothes the stinging burn with his fingers rubbing soft circles on your throbbing clit.

“My poor, dumb baby loses every thought when she's horny for me, right?”

His words made you burn with shame. As much as you prided yourself for being good, Steve always succeeded to bring out this side in you, the damned side you didn't even know existed.

“Now, why don't you go ahead and read your notes?"

You nod, leaning forward to grab the notes he made you write last week, but couldn't possibly read a single word as he pinches your clit between his fingers, chuckling when you yelp in pain, your body writing to get away from his hold.

“Tsk-tsk… don't move around too much, we haven't got all day.”

Another slap to your pussy. This one much sharper than the last, making your pussy drip down his lap, staining the faded denim.

Not that he'd mind wearing the wetness all day long, showing everyone just how perfect he was even when he was a mess.

“Steve! Please….”

“You beg so pretty, sweetheart. Might just let you suck my cock after you get your questions right…”

  𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬:@ornateglass @epiphanyrogers @sassandscribbles @buckybunni @eterna1reverie @juniebjonesin @pinksplace @sheriff-bodecker @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger @blobfishlol @sleepy-k0i @angelryex @stargazingfangirl18 @laufeysonbarnes3000 @blue-eyes-in-august @buckybarneswife08 @elliestwoleftfingerss @swimmingnightcolor @thatisamericas-ass @highonmarvel

You were a virgin before dating Rafe. Sex never really was your interest, so he taught you everything you needed to know, he opened this horizon for you. It started normal, at first, with him talking you through it, preparing you beforehand, pampering you with kisses, even though he was rough with his thrusts, then, he opened up to you about edging, restraining, things you knew boys like him watched on their computers late at night.

You were quite skeptical, but then, knowing he takes care of you, and enjoying sex with him, you thought what is the harm in it. You ended up liking his ministrations, maybe Rafe's plan of turning you into his perfect doll for his desires was working, maybe it was your desire of being a good girlfriend for him. But, when he mentioned CNC, you freaked out. It sounded bad, scary at first, so Rafe explained that it's just the normal sex you two had, but in a forest or in the marsh. Wild. Sexy.

You trusted him, and you wanted Rafe to be pleased by you, so, with your bottom lip caught between your teeth, you nodded your head at his suggestion.

That is how you ended up bolting through the willows, heavy breath and wild hair. You hated it already, not knowing where Rafe was, you were sweating and didn't feel sexy or hot at all. Quite the opposite.

When his hand fisted into your hair from behind, you whimpered.

Your back hit his rock-hard chest as he wrapped his bicep around your throat.

"R-Rafe...'m not sure I wa-want this anymore", you choked, exhaling, somehow relieved that this uncomfortable experience would end.

Rafe, however, did not bulge. For three uncomfortable seconds, even his breath steadied, then, he curled his bicep, tightening the chokehold, and pushed your face into the trunk of a three.

You whined, trying to elbow him, but were frozen in place when you felt his hardness poke at you. How could your boyfriend be turned on by you in this state?

Your cheeks were soaked with tears and sweat and your glossy lips with snot and hair sticked to them. But, apparently, Rafe liked that so much, that he fucked you.

Did not stop when you whispered him to stop, did not stop when you cried out in pain, did not stop as you tried to squeeze him out, he was relentless. "You're doin' so good f'me", he praised in your ear. "Be still, don't you want this to be finished quickly?"

When he finally came, you felt your whole body going numb and collapsing in the mud. He pampered you with kisses and pecks, just as he did everytime, except this time, you tried to pull away and cry until no tears would be left.

@highonmarvel @essraxi @jennifrchck

For 1000 followers, I'd like to do something special and personal. From now until 1 July 2026, send me an ask with your name, a little bit about yourself, and your stalker beloved to recieve a special letter from them.

It'll be scary sweet and short, about 1000 words a piece. Tell me how you met (if you've even met at all), what they like about you. Are they an ex? A friend? An enemy? A stranger?

General guidelines for requests found here. All requests will be answered under the tags 'high on love letters' and 'highon1000' if you're looking for yours. I promise to get to every single one.

Thank you all so much for 1000.

Small settlements of nomads spread along the high peaks of The Red Mountains, and therefore, a village named ❜Stonebridge❛ formed. 

The mountains were ❜red❛ because of the color of the soil and rocks, that turned into a scarlet shade as the sun settled down, and those rocky cliffs sheltered various people, that nestled their homes there. 

You were one of them, living there with your older brother. You were no Lady, but a mere, ordinary girl, yet you found the peace of your soul in the village you called home. Your older brother loved you and enjoyed himself watching you cherish your youth in purity and harmony. Yet—the peace was short-lived, for a white haired prince has decided, out of sadistic boredom, to burn it to ashes.

The villagers called him ❝Brightflame❞, he was from the Targaryen House, yet you paid no mind to the whispers, for you had no interest in politics nor royalty. 

Aerion Targaryen was cruel, and his cruelty had various forms, for he was young, with bright visions and an even brighter delusion carved deep within his chest, that he was a dragon, but in human flesh. After he had been scolded by his uncle, prince Baelor, and his father, Aerion decided to achieve something mighty himself, accompanied by a few knights that had followed him out of fear or out of curiosity, and turned his anger to the insignificant group of people—your people. 

 At dusk, they had passed through The Boneway, a treacherous mountain pass further east. It was narrow, steep, and flanked by high, jagged peaks, and they reached your village.

The elders and the youth, implicitly you, were anything but prepared for the sudden, unprovoked attack, if it could be called that. 

The white haired Targaryen arrived in his blackened steel armor with the red enamel flames, and he took his helmet off, his violet eyes scanning the surroundings.

From the red dust that gathered in the sky, formed by the people’s fret, your eyes started watering, and you fell on the ground, disorientated. The skin of your palms tore open, and you hissed, as mud soaked your white, long-sleeved gown. People were screaming, and running around, looking for their children or thwir beloved ones.

You tried to wipe away your tears of shock with the back of your palm, as you desperately turned your head around in search of your brother, yet he was nowhere to be found.

As you tried to raise yourself from the mud, a heavy thud of steel made you fall right back and flinch. The young, handsome prince was now standing high above you, and, when you looked up at him through the acid, salty tears, you swore you could saw his eyes glint like a reptile's. He adored inflicting pain, detecting pain, he admired sorrowness. To sum up, Aerion was mad.

Yet, you did not know that at the time, certainly, so you intended to reason with his human side. A whine tore itself from your throat, as you placed your hands on either side of your hips, in the mud, and whispered a ❝please❞ up to the man that seemed to have your life at his mercy.

A smirk decorated his features, and in an instant, his hand shot down and wrapped itself around your throat. Aerion pulled your face upwards, until your noses almost brushed, and he inhaled the scent of your tears that stained your cheeks and neck.

Afterwards, he released you with a push, and ordered, ❝I want this one in my tent❞. When none of the knights or soldiers complied, he shouted, ❝Now!❞

A pair of strong arms forced you on your feet, by hauling you up by your upper arms. The fight or flight mode started to kick in, following the adrenaline that shot through your veins, and you struggled in the iron grip. ❝Let me go, please! I di-didn't do anything...❞, you cried, hoping for an ounce of mercy.

It occured to you that no mercy will be shown, when you were thrown on your ass, over some scratchy furs, and your hands tied to your back on a pile of wood that sustained the royal tent.

The restraints rubbed your wrists raw, and you managed to settle your terrified breaths and your shaking body. Where was your brother? What were to happen with you? All these questions buzzed through your mind, and you started shaking even harder.

After a couple of minutes, or maybe even hours, the tent entrance was thorn open by the Prince. You flinched, and your hair cupped either side of your face, almost as if it was shielding you from the demon that appeared.

Aerion tore his armor off, and threw it on the ground, somewhat close to your tied form, and he ripped off his shirt as well. His boots and pants followed, and he left himself naked in front of you. You scrunched your eyes shut, not being used to this kind of boldness. He rested his toned arms on the wooden table in front of him, and after a few moments of silence, Aerion dipped his fingers into the bowl of water before him and splashed it over his face and neck.

❝What is your name?❞, he questioned you, voice booming in the odd quietness of the tent. You kept your lips sealed, and your eyes shut—as if that could save you from ❛Brightflame❜ himself.

❝I suppose I shall call you whore then, if you have no tongue to answer❞. His casual tone made you flinch, and your eyes darted to him, at long last.

Aerion crouched down next to you, and it was like you were hypnotized by his cold orbs.

He rose his hand to play with a strand of your hair, and when you took in the dried blood that adorned his fingers, you gasped and flinched away from his hold.

❝Worry not, it is not mine❞, he chuckled at you. You were not worried for him, but for yourself, for your sibling, for your neighbours...

❝Wh-why...?❞, you dared to ask him, voice breaking as he wore a stern look on his features now.

❝Why did I attack you? Oh, well, because I could. I uphold this power, and you, mere people, simply do not❞, he tilted his head, explaining his murderous deeds as it was as clear as daylight.

A sob escaped your lips and you looked down, at your thighs. ❝I have not even put a finger on you yet, girl❞, Aerion states, somehow amused by your fright.

He cut your restraints and ordered you to get up. Your feet trembled as you tried to steady yourself onto them.

Aerion stood behind you, and his fingers gripped the fabric of your thin gown, ripping it off of your body with ease. His hands came from behind and groped both of your breasts. You whined, more tears cascading down the skin of your flesh. Your teeth caught your lower lip, in attempt to muffle your cries.

❝Ah, ah, let me hear you❞, Aerion muttered against the skin of your shoulder, one of his hands coming up to grip your jaw, releasing your chest. ❝I said I wanted to hear your sounds, whore, so come on. Cry for me❞, he ordered, forcing your legs apart.

❝N-no, please, not li-like this. It will hurt, stop—❞, you pleaded with panic, but the cruel prince ignored it, his tip nudging your folds. Aerion pinched the skin of your hip, and you sobbed, as he attempted to enter your cunt.

❝I will fuck you like this, and it will hurt, but you will take it❞. Your feet rose off the ground when he thrusted his thick lenght into you.