DILF Lover Extraordinaire

“Can you kiss me more?” her voice carried authority. You rolled your eyes and leaned forward to press your lips to her own once more. Arms came around your neck and pulled you into her. You unconsciously brought your arms around her waist. The two of you found a natural rhythm. Finally, you broke for air again. A loving smile was on her lips.

“I'm not just giving you one in public,” she teased suddenly and leaned her forehead against your own, “I'll give you hundreds.”

You were in danger, it seemed.

Dark Cacao Cookie

6. “Then I’ll free you from the nightmare here beside me, never slowing.”

After what felt an endless haze, the traitorous advisor had been removed from the citadel. There was much to rebuild and recover from, especially with the shock of Dark Choco's return.

It had hurt one most to see him.

You had been withdrawn since Dark Choco's banishment, quiet and meek. Affogato had attempted to sow doubt in your loyalty to him, but that had only earned him a glare and a warning to hold his tongue. Now, he saw clearly. His eyes gazed upon you without the glaze of uncertainty and confusion. A mourning parent; the same as him. You needed comfort and love— something he failed to provide.

His arms had come around you, whispering apologies. A cry of feeling like you were wandering a nightmare left him particular stricken. How could he have been so blind? Grasping you tighter, he felt his heartbreaking. How close had he come to losing even you? A tender kiss was placed to your temple.

“Then let me free you from this nightmare,” his voice was deep and low, “Stand here, beside me.” The words sounded like an order, but you knew better. It was a plea. Staring deep into his violet eyes, you cupped his cheek. “So that I never lose your breath upon my nape, I shall carry on,” he pressed your head to his shoulder, “I ask that you do the same. Let us share this pain together.”

And, together, you would.

Pure Vanilla Cookie

36. “Promise you won't let me go. I'll never betray in the end of time, still my love's gonna be there.”

He was lost.

In many ways, he always felt he was. Something in his heart drove him to be a vagabond. To wander was who he was; home felt a fleeting concept. It was the people who surrounded him that made him feel at peace.

To lose so much, he struggled to regain any footing. Living blindly without memories, his recollection left him more brokenhearted. The losses only continued. He forced himself to bear it all bravely. Through even his lowest points, he forced himself to face forward. No matter how horrible it seemed, a piece of his heart called him to live. His friends needed him, but most of all you needed him.

Watching the Beast play with you like a doll to torment him nearly drove him into a vengeful rage. Even more when he dared try to grab you in the moments which the Spire began to crumble. Never had he moved so quickly in his entire life, clutching your precious form to his body and engulfing you with a gentle warmth. You were at his side, safe and comfortable.

He knelt, pressing his forehead to your own. There was nothing to be seen when he could feel your body itself. Warm and soft, a familiar scent. Your arms wrapped around him. He mumbled comforting words and apologised endlessly for worrying you. It was his fault for finding doubt, but his heart could never betray you. Lips finally found your temple, pressing tender kisses to the flesh.

“Please… promise you won't ever let me go,” he whispered, voice soft, “I will never betray you— Even at the end of everything, I will continue to love you.” You nodded and grasped onto his robes tighter.

Burning Spice Cookie

45. "For the you that I hunger for, I'll be waiting, so impatiently."

Years.

Centuries.

A millennium.

Endless time could pass in the cycle that refused to stop. With or without him present, everything rose, thrived, declined, and fell. Nothing would change. Within the prison, he knew this.

Yet, something remained on his mind.

Not regaining his power, not driving his axe of destruction down civilizations. No, nothing so simple.

The beating of his heart, the fire that coursed through his veins. His awakening only drew out one goal; he desired but one thing— His precious prize.

Considered a god, only a most acclaimed devotee to be at his side; only them to be his spouse, to be praised as an equal. Whatever drew them from his lands mattered not as he would drag them back even should they kick and scream. His arms would embrace them and claim his lost love. There was nothing more that the Beast loved than a good hunt. You would be the best prey to chase.

The Spice Tribes would do anything to earn his favour. Surely, it would be little time before they were laid out before him, precious and ready to be reclaimed. He would hold them once more in his lap and lay claim to the flesh with his teeth, drinking down their essence with a smile. He would never let them go again, reminding them of their place at his side. His Soul Jam shined with power.

For the one he hungered for, he would wait so impatiently.

Shadow Milk Cookie

99. “I’ll crawl out, and drag you down with me. It’s only fair.”

His heart had been torn to pieces before his very eyes.

Vividly, the memory lashed at his mind; of limbs and viscera— of the one who was made for him tore apart by a mob claiming him a liar. They stood opposed, desperately defending him, their beloved Fount. And all he could do was watch, frozen in shock and terror. Should he turn back the clock, he would bring down his strings and tear those in the mob, just as they had his heart.

The memory haunted him across his time in that wretched prison, lost to his regrets. Sleepless dreams bringing his precious marionette to share the stage alongside him, realities he knew were nothing more than a delusion. When he was finally freed and returned to a living, breathing form, he found himself scripting a show for a certain little thief. The cast appeared and entered his domain, yet one member caught his attention.

Familiar, just so familiar. They carried themself so confidently through the twisting, labyrinthine halls when they assumed no one was watching. Their reactions, one of horror and disgust. Shadow Milk led them astray, trapping them in a familiar room of the Spire. It was preserved as it had been centuries ago.

With a pause and wide-eyes from them, he was certain.

Years wasted mourning—!

Appearing before them, he stared into their eyes. The humble jester was gone— something of a deity betrayed instead in his place. To be fooled so thoroughly; no doubt aided by his strong feelings. You… You had taken advantage of him to flee when he needed you most. The door vanished from behind you. Such a trick… Were you proud of yourself? He scoffed. Approaching, he leaned his face to be mere centimetres from your own.

“Did you have fun?” He asked, “Did you think I wouldn't crawl out? That I wouldn't drag you down with me?” Your fearful expression hardly moved him. He suffered for so long when you could have been with him. To think you would join up with that fool, too— “It's only fair,” he caught your chin, “You left me here.”

There would be no fleeing him this time.

Silent Salt Cookie

66. “You give me cause for love that I can't hide. For you, I know I'd even try to turn the tide.”

His freedom left him with a burden he had failed to consider thoroughly.

The Witches gifted the Virtues one to compliment them; one loyal and unwavering in devotion. He had treasured his own— His beloved. It was the one thing that made his resolve waver in the least. His rage drove him to seal those who fell to corruption and caused, even his own. Yet, those watering eyes, a silent plea bitten back. He knew seeing them again would once cause his rage to falter.

There was no doubt he would see them again. To Elder Faerie, he left them to be protected and given a home. The freeing of the Beasts would not evade their knowledge. Within the depths of the catacombs, he stood wordless. A single set of footsteps approached from behind him. The knight knew. There was no need to turn to face them. He would not acknowledge them. They should have never returned to these accursed lands.

He failed to account for arms wrapped around his waist. A face burying itself into the back of his armour. Your voice calling him by a forgotten title. He struggled; he wavered. You… His heart; his everything. To seal those Beasts was to give you a future; potential happiness. His gauntlet came to rest atop your linked hands.

“You give me cause for love that I cannot hide,” he mumbled. You drove him to a madness he could not understand. If you had been among those killed, he would have let this world rot. He turned himself in your hold to clutch your body to him. Soft sobs made his hardened heartache. All this time… All this time, he let him mind imagine your happiness. A smile on your lips, enjoying life among those of the Silver Kingdom. Tea with the Faerie king, enjoying the beauty ever-present. That was why he had to act even now, no matter how much it hurt you. Silent Salt needed to assure your happiness and safety over anything else in this world.

“For you, I would even try to turn the tide,” he promised, “… Because you are mine, I walk the line.”

For this moment, however, he would allow your embrace and present as a passing comfort.

Mystic Flour Cookie

54. "Come here, into my arms. “The darkness over there is bitter.””

For her temperance to be tested was quite rare. Nothing but such an extreme could drive her from the comfort of apathy and nearing enlightenment. Yet, this was one. Almost certainly, it was one.

She had lost much due to the greed of others, but the worst had been her precious partner. They stood steadfast to defend her from an encroaching mob driven to madness by their own desires. There was no healing she could provide, instantaneous was her loss. Gone was the last being she could believe in. She clutched their cold form to her own, staining her white robes with their essence. Tears poured from her eyes.

A great loss.

All the more reason to let go.

But, to see them again; to see them trapped within a cycle which had no end. Cloud Haetae's mention that the warrior who had the other half of her Soul Jam had them at his side. She was in doubt, yet there they stood. Her eyes opened, a breath hitching in her throat. The clothing of that kingdom— you were certainly among them. You did not know her, having been reborn. So near, yet so far. Mystic Flour brought you away from the savage warriors and deep into her temple.

Your head rested upon her lap as she gently stroked your hair. To forget the past, the pain of living in a cycle of suffering. She would free you— at her side. The main issue remained that king. You kept begging for him and his people to be spared. Such desperation…

“Remain here,” she spoke softly, lulling you into a peaceful rest. To see you again, laid out and not breathing, especially for one such as that resolute fool… It would be the last thing she would allow. You were to ascend and find eternal peace. “Their darkness is far too bitter… Rest. Forget.” Your eyes slowly closed, the incense and quiet calming your racing mind.

“I will speak with her then,” he simply said, giving a glance towards Affogato, “Watch your tongue when speaking of her.” His heavy steps echoed through the halls as he traversed away into the quiet quarters he rested in. Braziers burned on the dark walls, illuminating his path. Grasping the door, he revealed his beloved clutching a small hanbok in her arms and weeping. His heart ached.

The resolute nature he so treasured would not waver for the one he loved most. A poisoned whisper could not sway him even in his moment of weakness. He knelt before her, gazing at the garment with bitter memories. A precious gift from the people of his kingdom. It hurt to view it as something of the past. “Beloved,” his voice was low. Your attention was elsewhere. He felt terrible in seeing your suffering. There was nothing he could do to ease your burden. A mother's heart was a fragile thing towards their child.

Bringing to a calloused hand to cup your cheek, he brought your gaze to his own. “You went to the barracks,” he said with certainty, “To visit Caramel Arrow, I presume.” You nodded weakly. A sigh left him. She was a comfort for you. Something he needed to be. His hands gently felt the soft fabric of the robes. Your pain… He needed to do something. To leave you like this…

He pressed his forehead to your own. “My Queen,” he spoke with reverence. You were arguably more of the centre of the kingdom than himself. A beacon of a softer touch that he failed to provide. “Let me treasure you once more,” his hands shifted to grasp your dishevelled robes. Goreum tied lazily and quickly. He resisted the urge to retire them for you. “You are not alone in your mourning… I…” He bit his tongue when arms came around him to cling, and sobs pitifully left your throat. He embraced you tightly.

Perhaps… He would reconsider his actions should Dark Choco ever return.

His heart was fractured into two pieces which were held by those he trusted most.

~

“Mother…” a low voice rumbled as another care package was left near his camp. He had been living in the forest of the Great Icing Ridge for a moment, having fled the darkness at long last. He opened the package with careful hands, thankful for the kindness he felt was undeserved. Yet, he paused upon seeing the inside. A note of kinds words… The handwriting of his mother was unmistakable, but another laid alongside it. His eye softened. “And… father…”

“Stop trying to flee from me,” his voice was ragged, having long lost the showmanship he so adored putting forth. Your body seized forward, grasping the sheets of the bed and feeling something deep inside writhing. It hit you in all your most sensitive spots, near massaging into the nerve endings. He was hardly one to forget. Nothing escaped his eyes. And so many were locked onto you.

“Why do you even want to run?” he asked, grasping your hips with his hands. Claws dug into your flesh. “There is no one in this world that sees you as I do,” it was a hiss that left his mouth this time, breath fanning over your ear. “Why were you scared?” His words were punctuated with a particularly rough thrust. You whined. “You're mine,” he reminded you as hands began to travel up the sides of your body. Every crevice and edge was known to him, even with the passage of time and his sealing. You were always to be his.

A cry left you as the tentacle pushed against a spot deep inside. Shadow Milk gave a dangerous chuckle. “What does that light and truth give you, my darling?” he asked, leaning over to gaze into your eyes, “What does he offer you that I don't already provide?” His mismatched eyes narrowed.

He ground against your cervix, the tip of his tentacle dick swirling around the tight entrance. Your eyes went wide. “He can't make you feel like this,” a hand went between your thighs to rub at your clit, “Does he even know about me? About us? That you have the mark of a beast?” You shook your head as electric pleasure coursed through you. He rutted harshly inside and sighed. “My dear little marionette,” he tsk'd his tongue, “How foolish! To lie… And here I thought you were better than that!” His free arm wrapped around your neck to pull you into him. A coil was rapidly building in your abdomen.

“We're not so different, are we?” he whispered before pressing the tip of his dick to massage your cervix again. The leaking mucosa, a potent aphrodisiac. It was soon the coil snapped. You crashed onto the bed, his words swirling in your mind. Kisses were peppered all over your jawline as he gave a few more harsh thrusts before warmth spread inside.

“Don't worry,” he shifted the position so you both laid on your sides. The jester pressed your face into his nape. “I'll introduce you to my world,” he promised so tenderly, “You'll never stray from me again.”

It felt easier to just give in than to keep fighting for the truth.