#aera

Warning: smut 18+; p in v; sloppy sex; breeding kink; creampie

Jacaerys flipped you over onto your back, positioning himself between your spread thighs. He gripped your hips tightly, his fingers sinking into the flesh of your ass as he notched the thick head of his cock against your dripping entrance.

With a low, animalistic growl, he thrust forward, sinking into your tight heat in one hard, deep stroke. He threw his head back, groaning at the exquisite sensation of your walls gripping him like a vice.

“Fuuuuck... you're so fucking tight,” he grunted, his hips already starting to move, to thrust into you with a desperate, needy rhythm. “So fucking perfect...”

He leaned down to capture your mouth in a sloppy, hungry kiss, his tongue delving deep to taste you as he fucked you hard and fast. He could feel his balls slapping against your ass with each powerful thrust, the obscene sound of skin against skin filling the room.

He reached down to thumb at your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in tight, rough circles. He could feel you clenching around him, your body responding to his touch, to his cock splitting you open.

“Come on, baby... scream for me,” he growled against your lips, his hips never faltering in their desperate rhythm. “Let me hear how good it feels to have my cock buried inside this sweet cunt.

You went cross-eyed as Jacaerys's massive cock speared into you, your mind short-circuiting from the intensity. "Y-yesss!!" You wailed, back arching off the bed as you focused solely on the delicious sensation of his cock stretching your walls.

With each brutal, deep thrust, a whorish moan tore from your throat. "Ah, ah, ah!!" Your eyes rolled back in your head, fluttering as you felt him pounding nearly against your cervix.

"F-fuuuck, you're s-splitting me in half!" You gasped out, your nails raking down his back. Pleasure like you’d never known consumed you, your pussy clenching greedily around his plundering cock. The obscene squelch of him fucking into your soaked cunt filled the room. Plap, plap, plap…

Jacaerys's eyes locked onto the obscene sight of his thick cock disappearing into your dripping cunt with each brutal thrust, watching as he stretched you wide around his girth. He let out a desperate, whiny moan at the erotic image, feeling his balls draw up tight at the base of his shaft.

“Yes, fuck... look at how well you take my cock,” he gasped out, one hand snaking down to grip the back of your thigh, hiking your leg up higher around his waist as he leaned in closer. “Your hungry little pussy is swallowing me whole, like it was made just for me...”

He leaned down and spat crudely onto your clit, watching as the saliva mixed with your arousal, making the apex of your sex even slicker, even messier as he fucked into you hard and fast. The wet, sloppy sounds of his hips slapping against yours filled the room, punctuated by his whiny moans and the creaking of the bed frame.

“You feel so fucking good, baby... so perfect and tight... I can't get enough... can't stop... fuck... I'm going to fill this greedy cunt with my cum... pump you full... flood this pussy until it's dripping out of you... Fuuuck!”

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he fucked into you like a wild dog. Each snap of his hips pushed you further up the bed, your tits bouncing with each impact.

He reached down to squeeze your clit hard, pinching the sensitive nub between his fingers as he rutted into you like a man possessed. Come for me,” he demanded, his voice a desperate snarl against your skin. “Please come all over me…”

He could feel his climax building fast, his shaft pulsing and throbbing deep inside your clutching heat. With a roar, he slammed into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt as thick ropes of his hot seed erupt from his cock, painting your insides white.

Jacaerys threw his head back, his muscular body convulsing above you as he emptied his heavy, aching balls deep inside your spasming cunt. Jet after jet of his potent, virile cum pumped into you, your belly starts to swell slightly with the sheer volume of his release.

"Fuuuuck, yes... take it all, my little princess," he moaned raggedly, grinding his spurting cock against your cervix as he filled you to the brim with his essence. "I want to see it leaking out of this tight cunt when I pull out..."

He collapsed on top of you, hips still twitching and jerking slightly as the last weak spurts of his orgasm dribbled into your thoroughly used, messy pussy. He peppered your face and neck with soft kisses, still panting harshly from the intensity of his climax.

"Such a good girl..." he murmured, nuzzling under your jaw. "My good girl... all full of my cum now..."

Royal Huisman's hybrid sailing catamaran AERA

The hunger above us

Chapter 1.

You were eight years old when the war began.

At first, it did not feel like war. It arrived quietly, almost imperceptibly, like a distant storm gathering beyond the horizon. Then came the sound—low at first, then deafening—and the sky darkened with shapes that moved too fast. The first explosion shattered everything. After that, there was no time to think, only to react.

Bombs fell without warning, tearing through buildings and streets alike. The city you had known all your life dissolved into smoke and debris within hours. People ran in every direction, their voices lost beneath the noise of destruction. And among them, moving with an unsettling calm, were figures that did not belong—tall silhouettes draped in long cloaks, untouched by the chaos surrounding them.

There had been no plan, only urgency. Your mother held your brother's hand tightly, searching for you inside the house while your father went to check the outside in the middle of the night. You were hiding in the wardrobe due to fear. And you were all leaded by confusion.

Everything happened too quickly. And somehow, you survived.

From the darkness of your hiding place, you witnessed enough to understand what was happening, even if your mind refused to fully process it. They looked human—at first glance, almost indistinguishable. But there was something deeply wrong in the way they moved, in the unnatural stillness of their expressions. Their eyes reflected a dull, ominous red. And when they opened their mouths sharp fangs peeked.

You did not cry. You did not move. You remained still as the world you loved was reduced to silence. And when it was over, the quiet that followed felt heavier than the noise that had come before.

Days later, you were found by one of your own. A commandant, human, part of what remained of an organized resistance. He gathered the survivors—what little was left—and took you away from the ruins. From that moment on, survival was no longer a matter of chance, but of discipline.

Years passed, though time did little to ease what had been etched into memory. It did not soften the images, nor dull the fear. It simply moved forward, carrying you with it whether you were ready or not.

By the age of thirteen, you were given a weapon.

There was no ceremony, no moment of recognition. The war had erased such things. Humanity could no longer afford the luxury of seeing you as a child. You were simply another body capable of fighting, another life that could be used to delay the inevitable.

You knew you were not suited for it. Strength did not come naturally to you, nor did courage. Each time you held a weapon, your sword, your hands betrayed you with a faint tremor you could never quite control. Each day became an effort to endure, to survive long enough to see the next.

But the fear never left you.

It settled deep within, shaping the way you thought, the way you moved, the way you looked at the world around you. It was stronger than anger, stronger than resentment. Even after everything that had been taken from you, even after what you had seen, it was fear that remained more powerful in you.

Since the creatures arrived, the world had not simply changed—it had been redefined. Humanity had always known war, had always been capable of turning against itself for reasons that often seemed meaningless in hindsight. But this was different. This was not a conflict born of ambition or ideology. It was something far more absolute.

It was hunger.

They had placed themselves above humans in the natural order without hesitation. Their existence depended entirely on human blood, and there was no alternative to it. That alone made any possibility of coexistence impossible. To them, humanity was not an enemy to be defeated, but a resource to be secured.

And that was what made the war so desperate.

They did not seek to destroy completely. That would have been inefficient. Instead, they captured. They preserved. From the very beginning, their intentions had been clear in their actions. Those who were no longer useful were eliminated without hesitation, while the young were spared—not out of mercy, but out of purpose. A future supply, carefully maintained.

It was a system. A structure. Something planned.

And that made it worse.

What unsettled you most was not their strength, nor their speed, nor even their ability to hunt with such precision. It was the way they looked. That was the worst part of all. The way they could stand among humans without immediately revealing what they were. Apart from their eyes and their fangs, there was nothing to distinguish them. Nothing that would allow you to recognize the danger before it was too late.

Predators were not meant to resemble their prey.

They spoke as humans did, moved as humans did, and could imitate emotions well enough to deceive anyone who let their guard down for even a moment. There was no clear boundary, no reliable way to separate one from the other until it no longer mattered.

That was what made them terrifying.

Not just what they did—but how easily they could do it.

By the time you understood, it was already over.

The thought lingered with you as you moved through the forest, each step measured, each breath controlled. The silence around you felt unnatural, as though the world itself were holding back, waiting. When you suddenly stopped.

Something was wrong.

You could feel it before you saw it, a subtle shift in the air that your body recognized instantly. Your grip tightened around your sword, though you knew how little that might matter. You didn't even know how to use it properly.

Then, from somewhere beyond the trees, there was movement.

You did not need to see it clearly to understand.

A vampire. 

Your heart began to race, each beat loud enough to drown out every other sound. For a brief moment, you closed your eyes, steadying yourself, forcing your breathing into something resembling control.

Please, you thought, the word forming silently.

Let it be a low-ranking one.