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simpingforheros · 1 month ago

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Jason’s Wife?!

Pairing: Jason Todd X Female! Reader

Summary: Meet Mrs. Todd?! Jason got eloped and he doesn’t intend on sharing his blushing bride just yet.

Warnings: SMUT, Fluff, Established Relationship, Eloping, Jason being an ass to his family (for good reason), Jason calling Reader Ma (can’t remember who wrote about that, please tag them because I love this headcanon), P in V, unprotected sex (don’t advertise for the unsafe sex, put some breading on yalls chicken before dumping it in oil) , Oral (m receiving), Body Worship, Phone/Facetime during the deed, Exhibition Kink, Mating Press, Slight Breeding Kink, Degradation, Praise, crying kink??,TOXIC-ish And POSSESSIVE! Jason Todd is back, Traumatizing Dick again.

Author’s Note: Thank you guys so much for the praise I got on my last Jason Todd Fanfic! I didn’t know you guys would like my first smut that much so I made a part 2. Enjoy your next fix you horny bastards (jk I love you guys )

AN: This is Part 2 to Jason’s Girl??, so go read that for some context. Also a quick shout out to the mutual who started my spiraling decent into his madness, @jjenthusee , who was the main inspiration because of their amazing artwork! Also I’m sorry this was late and I don’t update as often, I’m in my second semester in a health major and I’m stumped man. I’ll update when I can I promise.

A/N: Part 3>>> Jason Broke What??

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Jason Todd is a lot of things. He’s known for bad things and good things. It depends on who you ask.

A menace, a murderer, a zombie, an asshole, etc.

A son, a brother, a hero….

But there’s two things everyone can agree on.

1). He’s a good boyfriend.

For the last 6 months since Jason finally revealed his secret girlfriend of two years, the Bat Family learned just how much of a better person Jason was when (Y/N) was around.

His voice was softer and kinder to others. His temperament was more patient and his fists stayed loose. Her presence acting like a balm to sooth his soul as soon as he feels her comforting hand on his skin.

There were obvious moments of trouble, such as little squabbles or one gets snappy at the other, but normally they sort it out. Even if Bruce and the rest of the family didn’t know her for long, they knew that she had the backbone to handle Jason and give him what he needed without babying him.

Jason even shows his love for her in goofy ways, such as wearing matching shirts or color coordinated outfits. The two are now known for their Friday date nights and lazy Saturdays where they don’t wanna be disturbed. Their late night rides or their silent evenings where either a book or controller is in hand.

Red Hood is known for lingering around certain streets where she would be at when she had to work late, and he always had a bottle of water or granola bar he ‘mysteriously appeared’ out of thin air.

Jason was known for being proud of building the healthiest relationship he’s ever had with someone who didn’t fall in love with him because he was Bruce Wayne’s son, or Batman’s protege. She fell in love with Jason Peter Todd and all he was.

Which leads to the one thing that the family also knew him for.

2) Jason Todd would not tell anyone when he dropped down on one knee and asked (Y/N) to be his wife.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The proposal was a spontaneous to say the least.

Their usual Saturday routine of laying on the couch, too exhausted from the week to move. Jason laid on the opposite side as his beloved, her feet dangling off to the side of his hips as his own rested behind her shoulders. They both had a book in as they enjoyed their silence. The only noise coming from the soft patter of Frank coming over to lay on his adopted father.

The tabby cat that Jason claimed to not like despite the male cat clinging to him like glue. The cat jumped onto his stomach with a deep groan emitting from him. A soft giggle filled the room as she sets her book down and pulls the feline to her.

“I still don’t understand why my cat likes you more than me.” She comments as she strokes the tabby’s fur.

Jason scoffs as he carefully rolls off the couch and onto his feet. “Probably to spite me.”

He heads to the kitchen to grab them a drink as he hears one comment that seemed to change everything in one second.

“What’s gonna happen when we have a kid? Would you think they would prefer you over me or would we have another Frank?…”

The question was a hypothetical one, a normal one couples would ask just to make sound in the air. Jason would have probably answered light heartedly with a kiss or a smart ass comment to make her laugh, but it felt different. He felt different.

There wasn’t a ‘if’ in the question like it would or wouldn’t happen, but a definite of ‘when’ it would happen. Jason knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. Hell, he managed to not fuck up a relationship he kept hidden for 2 years. He knew he wanted to marry her the moment he decided to open up and let her into his life by moving her in and introducing her to his family.

So, even if it was on an impulse, Jason returns back into the living room and as he placed their drinks on the coffee table as he kneels on the floor beside the couch. (Y/N) sits up as she smiles at him, unaware of the decision he made.

“Penny for your thoughts, Todd?” She asked playfully as she offers him an imaginary penny in between her pinched fingers.

Jason smiles as he takes her out stretched hand before kissing the back of it.

“Marry me.”

The seriousness in his eyes made her playful attitude dissolve to disbelief.

“What?…”

“I wanna marry you, (Y/N)…You are the everything I could ever want and don’t deserve. But I can’t imagine building a life like the one we have with anyone else. You are one of the few lights this dark world has and I wanna love and protect you for the rest of our lives.” Jason explains as he nervously massages her hand as his eyes shined with deep love and affection. “Even if I don’t have a ring yet and we are in our pajamas, will you accept me and let me become yours forever?”

Tears streamed down her face as she nods frantically. Her arms quickly wrapping around Jason’s neck and pulling him into a kiss.

Jason melts into her and begins to move to be on top of her on the couch until a sharp hiss makes him stop.

“Quiet, Frank…” Jason grumbles at the cat.

“Daddy is trying get some sugar from Mama~”

+++++++++++++++++

A week later, Alfred appeared extra peppy for the day. His duties were quickly done before the family was awake and his fidgeting gotten everyone concerned. Alfred was the normally level-headed gentle hand of the house, so seeing him so giddy made everyone nervous.

It wasn’t until he surprisingly left in one of his better suits and a gift bag that the rest of the Wayne Family just decided that he may be going to an event or some kind.

“Where do you think he’s going?” Tim asks his younger brother from behind a book.

Damian shrugs as he says, “How should I know?”

The answer wouldn’t come until later that evening. Alfred came back with both the brightest smile and red swollen eyes. In his hands were a single pale pink rose and a camera as he scurries to the study.

Tim, Dick, and Damian, who were scattered around the living room, followed out of curiosity. What’s gotten Alfred this way? An old flame? The thought of Alfred getting down and dirty made the boys shudder before they continue to the study and ultimately down to the Batcave.

“Yo, Alfred.” Dick calls out as he exits the elevator.

Alfred stood by the large chair over looking the Batcomputer as Bruce’s hulking form peaked over the leather. The clicking of the mouse playing in the background as Alfred turns his head to address Dick.

“Yes, Master Richard?” He says. In his hand was the camera with cables connecting it to the computer.

“Where have you been? You kinda left in a hurry…”

Tim jumps in as he says, “I mean, we aren’t trying to be rude, but you did seem kinda jumpy this morning.”

Damian’s words cut through the other two like ice as his eyes look at the monitor.

“Did Todd and his woman get married?”

Dick and Tim look back at Damian before their shocked expressions look up to the monitor. Their eyes widen in disbelief at the image before them.

Standing in a suit was a an absolutely beeming smile was Jason Todd with his hands interlocked with (Y/N), who was wearing a white dress. The dress didn’t look like the traditional floor length gown. Instead it was a backless chic dress with a bow on the back. Her hair was down and decorated with pearl ornaments as a matching ribbon choker was around her neck with a single aged pearl on it.

In their interlocked finders, a familiar set of rings shined . Martha Wayne’s sparkling diamond engagement ring and her wedding band was on (Y/N)’s finger as a matching wedding band was on Jason’s finger.

The surroundings didn’t look like a typical wedding venue with flowers and ribbons with a crowd of people. It was a courthouse, Gotham City Courthouse. On (Y/N)’s side stood Alfred holding a pale pink bouquet that was most likely the bride’s. What surprised them the most was a smiling Bruce on Jason’s side, a look of pride on his face that he rarely shown.

The boys break out of their shell as Dick complains.

“This can’t be real… Jason and (Y/N) got married without telling any of us….AND YOU LET JASON HAVE MARTHA’S RING!!” Dick snaps as his irritation grew. “You said I was gonna have it.”

Bruce sighs as he says, “I said that before you cheated on both of your girlfriends with each other.”

Alfred chuckles as he says, “And Master Jason specifically stated that he only wanted me and Master Bruce there.”

Tim frowns as he asks, “Why weren’t we invited?”

Alfred gives the boy a sympathetic look before reciting, “Miss (Y/N) and Jason only wanted a small ceremony and off what he said, ‘Damian makes (Y/N) uncomfortable when he calls her Jason’s woman and a distraction. Dick is plain out not invited because of reasons he knows why. And Tim can’t keep his mouth shut to save his life, so he’s not invited.’”

Damian tsks as he says, “I wouldn’t have wanted to go anyways.”

Dick was flustered as the images of the incident Alfred was referring to. He still can’t get her moans out of his head…

Tim pouts and says, “I’m gonna remember this…But why was Bruce invited then?”

Bruce responds with a smirk , “Because I was asked to give away the bride.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

As soon as the newly weds returned their apartment, the lust sprinkled down like hale. Her well manicured hair was now messy as his hands held her head. His mouth devouring her moans as her own lips kept up with his pace.

Her fingers desperately removing his tie as the shrilling ring of Jason’s cell phone fills the air. He ignores it in favor of trailing tongue against his bride’s as she slings off the tie.

“Gonna answer that?” She mumbles as his mouth begins to trail down her jawline. Jason doesn’t answer as his hands scoop up under her thighs to pick her up. Her giggles were music in his ears as he says,

“It’s probably just Tim or Dick. Probably bitching about the wedding…”

Jason carries his wife through the threshold of their apartment hallway as his lips remained on hers. Their vows sealed in teeth and tongues as he expertly guided them into the bedroom.

His phone finally stopped ringing as he places her on the bed. Hands groping and pulling off of clothing as he unwraps her down to her underwear and stockings. His mouth hot against her breast as she pushes his now unbuttoned shirt down his shoulders.

His other hand dipping into her underwear as he flicks her erected nipples like a guitar. Her sweet music filling the room as he’s met with a creamy cunt under her white thong.

“Fuccck, ma..” He moans against her breast. Jason pulls away with a devilish smirk as he runs his finger over her sopping folds, carefully avoiding her hole and clit. “I can’t tell what I like more…your pretty tits or your sloppy cunt…”

(Y/N) feels the wave of shameful arousal fill her stomach as she whines out, “Stop teasing me, baby. It’s our wedding day and you’re acting like a jackass…”

Her body jolts as he pinches her clit. Her hips jerking as she moans at the sensation. Jason had a look of faux sympathy before mumbling against the valley of her breasts.

“Oh, you’re right…” His voice barely audible to her as he begins to rub heart shaped patterns on her clit, making sure to dip down to her gasping pussy as he dips down. “I’m not acting like a good husband, ain’t I? Let me make it up to you, Mrs. Todd.”

His lips attached to her unabused nipple before his middle finger finally dips into her pulsing hole. His groan accentuated by the scraping of his teeth against her sensitive flesh. The feeling of her cunt sucking his one finger in making him light headed as her moans ringed out.

“Jason…stop teasing me…I want you…” She begs as her hips try to meet the thrust of his finger. He growls at her bossiness before yanking his finger out of her pulling her panties down her thighs.

Her eyes glared at him for the loss of stimulation before he quickly pops her pussy lightly. The wet slap of skin making her cringe in embarrassment before Jason begins to leave a trail of open kisses and bites down her body. Making sure to pay special attention to the matching tattoo on her hip before he mumbles to her with a lazy smile.

“Your wish is my command.”

Before he could dig into his meal, the shrill ring of his phone invades the space. He yanks his phone out of his pocket and looks at the screen before declining the call. He tosses the phone onto the bed as he glares at the offending device.

“Stupid Dick..” He groans before a soft hand on his face draws him back to her. Her gentle touch bringing peace to his mind as she pulls him up to press a soft peck to his lips.

His mind goes blank as she gently lures him to stand before she kneels down, trailing kisses down his exposed chest and his scars. Her love poured into his body as her lips traced his autopsy scars. Her eyes shining so pretty as she presses an extra long kiss to his matching tattoo on his Adonis belt.

The silent vow that was made a year and a half into dating on a drunk night out with Roy.

‘I am hers and she is mine’

“Let me be a good wife to you, Mr. Todd.” She whispers against his skin. Her breath like hot fire before her hands snake off his belt and trousers. Her mischievous eyes gleaming in lustful delight as Jason’s lip curls in between his teeth. His eyes almost glowing as she presses her warm lips against his clothed tip. His hand fisting into her hair as he hisses at her.

“Don’t you fucking tease me…”

*RING* *RING*

Jason glares at the phone before he snatches it up. He sees the familiar notification as his own image shown on the phone. FaceTime.

“Answer it.”

“What?” Jason asks in confusion before looking down to her. His surprise was suppressed with a hiss as she pulls his hard cock out of his underwear. Her hand lazyily stroking him as she gives him a look of faux innocence.

“Answer it. It’s rude to ignore family..”

Jason feels a smirk curled onto his face as he realizes what she wanted. His dick hardened to iron as he remembers why he fell for her.

She was just as fucked as he was.

With that, Jason schools his face as he answers the phone with an annoyed expression.

“What?” He says as the image of his brother appears on his phone screen.

Dick glares at Jason before snapping at him. “You got fucking married?! Without inviting any of us?!”

“Didn’t Alfred tell you why we didn’t want you guys there?” Jason asked in as much annoyance as he can muster as he felt the wet pull of lips around his cock.

His hand gripping her hair kept her from getting more than his tip in as he hides his reaction. Her tongue licking his tip like a kitten wanting milk.

“But we are family for fucks sake.”

Jason’s actual annoyance getting the best of him as he hisses,

“I’m sorry, but I recall you trying to fuck my wife.”

“THAT WAS BEFORE I KNEW YOU WERE DATING HER!!”

Jason becomes distracted as (Y/N) starts sucking him off. Her drool and his precum slowly beginning to coat her mouth and hand as it strokes what she can’t fit into her pretty mouth.

His brow furrowed as his pleasure and annoyance started to mix on his face. Jason decides to get some payback on both his wife and brother as he slyly mentions.

“Oh but you had no problem rubbing one out when I sent those videos.”

He pulls her closer to his pelvis to muffle her surprised moan. If he wasn’t on the phone, he would degrade her like a slut with how she acts when she remembers being recorded. Her cheeks hollow as Dick’s jaw drops as Jason mentions the videos.

“I-I..”

“Admit it.” Jason says, his voice grew more taunting. “You probably still jack off to the videos because you’re nothing but a loser who cheats on any good woman he gets because you’re scared of attaching to someone.”

Jason can feel her eagerness grow as she sucks harder, actually pulling him as deep into her throat as she can. He almost wanted to both laugh at how cute she was as she gagged around him and coo at how proud he was of her. Her jaw was gonna be hurting like a bitch either way.

Dick’s baffled expression almost made it better as his eyes shined with shame over what Jason knew to be true.

“That’s why Bruce gave me Martha’s ring.” Jason says as he forces (Y/N) to take him all the way down her throat. Her nose pressing into his light patch of black hair as Jason says. “fuck…I can fuck (Y/N) like I fucking hate her guts and she would take it because she knows I would rather swallow glass than fuck anyone else like I do her. To even love anyone halfway as I do her would be a sin…”

The fluttering feeling of her throat as her nails digged into his thigh affirming his conviction.

“I’m not afraid to get attached… As long as she lives, I’ll never let her go…”

He hangs up before Dick can respond as he yanks her back by her hair. Her coughing and gasping for air as she whine painfully at both the lost of his cock in her mouth and the painful grip on her scalp.

Jason releases her hair before kneeling beside her on the floor. His expression tender as he cups her face. Her light makeup look from the wedding was now smudged off with her mascara flowing down her face with her tears. Her lips puffy and wet from his assault on her mouth. Her body littered in forming bruises from his teeth. Her cunt sloppy and leaking a clear sheen down her thighs. Her cheek leaning into his palm as her eyes shined at him with nothing but love and desire.

“Fuck…” He groans before crawling inbetween her legs as he pushes her to lay down on the floor. His mouth back on hers as his throbbing erection lightly dragged against her fluttering pussy. The head catching her clit despite the watery resistance as she whimpers into his mouth.

“You look so pretty like this…” Jason says before sticking his tongue down her throats. Their tongues tangling for a moment before his hands cup her face and pull her away. “You feel it, don’t you?”

She whines as his hips rolled against hers. Her cunt angry as it fluttered around nothing. His nearly red dick twitching as it desires salvation in her temple as Jason breathlessly whimpers.

“Feel how bad I need you baby? Fuck I can’t stand it. I wanna fuck you every day so I can see you look like this.” He says as he wraps his hand his member. He slaps her pussy with it twice before dragging his head over her entrance, the heavy appendage dipping in slightly as he says.

“I wanna ruin you so good. You’re such a good pretty girl that I want to ruin and make as fucked up as me…”

Her gasps fill the room as he starts to bully his tip into her. Even though they were both well experienced with each other, every time she takes him feels like the first time with that delicious stretch.

His unusually talkative mood doesn’t let up as he pushes his hips into her, forcing her to take him.

“You’re so gorgeous…” He whispers as he pulls her legs over his shoulders as he grasps her hips, forcing them up as he starts to fill her to the hilt. “God, this pussy is unbelievable…gonna fill her up everyday and eat her out every night…”

His thrusts start off slow but hard as her hands desperately held onto what bit of Jason she could as he fucked her like a doll. Her whimpers and moans filling the air as the sticky sound of his balls smacking her ass.

His hot breath tickles her ears as his hips develop the torturous pattern of pistoling into her like a hard buck before rolling in a deep and filling thrust. Her eyes filling with tears and brain fog as he filled her lust sick brain with praise.

“Such a good little wife…a sweet little thing with a nice soft body for me…” He groans as his pace becomes brutal. His precision and memory impeccably beats anything he learned as a vigilante as he assaults her G-spot. Her eyes rolling back as lighting strikes her the brain as she begins to cry.

“Fuck. Fuck. fuck…” she sobs incoherently as Jason licks the tears off her face.

“You look so hot when your cry…” Jason moans as his thrusts start to become more sloppy. His reaches between them as he rubs tight circles on her clit as he thrusts harder into her soft cunt.

“Will you cry some more please?” He’s asked in a cruel tone. His eyes blown out with desire as he lets his full weight pin her down under him. His added weight making her pinned as she cries. Her stomach tightening at the overwhelming presence of him and his cock destroying her insides.

“I’m gonna fuck a baby into you, Ma…” He says as his own whimpers fall through. “Gonna watch you get swollen and carry a little perfect baby and know that you’re mine…that no one can love you like me… ain’t that right?”

Her impending orgasm blocking off all rational thoughts as her mouth hangs open. His hand pulls from her clit to her frustration and grabs a hold of her jaw. Forcing her to look at him as he says harshly.

“Who do you belong to ,Pretty Girl?”

Her eyes widen as she says, “You…I belong to you baby…”

Jason smirks as he starts thrusting faster. Her shrieks just music in his ears as she falls off the edge. Her vision clouded as white flashes in her vision. Her body nearly convulsing as her cunt squeezes Jason into his own orgasm. His warm seed flooding her quivering womb as he presses a kiss into her neck.

The pair remained still for a moment as they gasped for air. The natural chill of the room causing them to tremble at the stimulation. Her small hand moving first as she grabs his hand, her fingers playing with the gold band on his finger as she whispers.

“My husband…” A soft satisfied smile on her lips as Jason grins widely into her neck as he mumbles.

“All yours, Mrs. Todd.”

**********************

AN: Yea I didn’t know how to end this. 😭 I hope you guys like it because I’m not too sure if the smut is good or not. Let me know what you think as I’m trying to clear out the drafts. Again, Thank you @jjenthusee for inspiring these two fanfics and for being a great mutual.

*******************

@simpingforheros fanfic. I DO NOT CONDONE THE THEFT, COPYING, REPOSTING, AND PLAGIARISM OF MY WORK ON THIS SITE OR OTHER SITES WITHOUT CREDIT OR PERMISSION.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #red hood #arkham knight #arkham knight x reader #arkham knight jason todd #jason todd x y/n #arkham knight x you #batman arkham series #jason todd x you #jason todd reader #jason todd smut #redhood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x reader #redhood smut #simpingforheros

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mydear-corinthian · 1 month ago

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30,000ft. above sea level

summary - you and your boss does something not that common for you guys to do 30,000 feet above sea level

pairing - aaron hotchner x reader

warnings: SMUT +18, oral sex (m!receiving), semi-public sex, dirty talk, mentions of p in v sex, humping, mentions of cases, typical criminal minds talk

notes: DAY 1 of KINKTOBER, divider by i08cymm

main masterlist | criminal minds masterlist

The team gathered together on the jet. Hotch was passing out the files while Spencer turned on the small laptop in front of him to contact Penelope.

The case wasn't that rough on their stomach. There were two missing girls— both of them were best friends. Both was abducted 3 days, after their dance practice. As soon as team received the file, they quickly scanned and then shared their thoughts with the group.

It was only a short discussion since their technical analyst already has the name of the unsub and the suspected area where the girls were held. All of the team decided to do their own business. Reid read a book that he brought, Prentiss and Morgan were chatting about women, while Rossi and J.J chatted about J.J's son—Henry.

The team sees you and Hotch as the parents of the team. Hotch was strict, straightforward and silent like a father; you were sweet, kind, and cares for the team like a mother. What the team doesn't know is that you and Aaron are dating for a couple months now. There were times where you enter his office and have a little make-out session in there. The team doesn't suspect anything since you know, you both are parental figures— and thank God for that. They probably think that the both of you were discussing case files or help Hotch about his paperwork during those times.

And now, you felt that mood in you again.

The two of you haven't done it on the jet yet so it might sound like new to you and him. You gently stood up to your seat and excused yourself, leaving the team and went to the other side of the jet where Hotch was. You closed the curtains that was dividing the plane.

"Mama and Papa bear are talking about paperworks again. Can't they have a life?" Morgan commented, seeing you going to Hotch and slid the curtains.

"Well, work is always on their minds." Prentiss replied.

As you entered the area where Hotch was, he was sitting down, his back facing you, paper works were all over the table. It wasn't just any paperwork nor file, it's paperwork regarding the team's behavior. You find it funny when he does that since you know how silly the team member gets.

"Hey, what's up?" you walked towards him, getting his attention as he looked at you and smiled.

"Just the behavior paperwork." Hotch answered before his eyes went back to the file and answered.

"The team can get reckless sometimes." You laughed at his statement. You sat on the chair in front of him, crossing your legs. You observed him deeply. He wasn't that stressed nor tensed but you can see how his long sleeved white shirt was getting tighter and his muscles are getting visible which is making you feel something.

That feeling increased when you looked at his face. He was focused, his eyes fall in every word he writes. Jesus— he looked so fucking hot.

"Are you doing my behavioral report?" you asked as he grabbed a new file and opened it. You saw your 2 by 2 I.D card that was clipped on the pages of the file.

"Yes. I've done the others."

"Tell me about them— their report."

He scoffed at your request. Hotch grabbed the previous files and read each report to you. "Garcia hacked 3 private servers. Morgan kicked another door during our cases even though the door was unlocked. Reid academically insulted the local P.D during our previous case. And Rossi insulted another police.." Every word he said, it wasn't coherent to you but that didn't matter.

All your attention was to him. His eyes. His face. His arms. His fingers. And his... you know where. You felt that feeling rise up again. You felt like you need his touch— which you really do. You feel like the seat was stained with how wet you were right now.

"Are you okay? Are you listening to me?" Aaron asked.

The vulgar thoughts suddenly disappeared in your mind. "Y-Yes, I'm okay. And I'm listening to you."

"You're sweating. Your breath is rigid. Something is up." he didn't buy your answer. You stood up from your seat, you pushed the table away to the aisle and sat on Aaron's lap. He was surprised but he saw it coming. Your wet lips finally met his. He returned the kiss deeply, allowing the both of you to taste each other.

It's been awhile since the both of you had sex. Cases were always here and there. You even never had the time to sleep due to how busy the team was with these harsh cases.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked. "We've never done it on a plane.. or miles above sea level.."

"Please, Aaron— I just really badly need you." you begged as you began to rock your heated core with his thighs, riding him.

The both of you were still fully clothed but Aaron can definitely feel how wet you were. You humped on his thigh, finding a friction on his pants; and when you did, you gripped his shoulders for support and moaned softly, your head resting on his neck.

"What if we get caught?" Aaron asked, holding your hips for support.

"They won't. Fuck— you feel so good." you moaned.

His fingers found your clothed breast. It was hard and can be seen through your thin grey shirt and he was drooling about it. Aaron began to toy with your hardened nipple, making you moan out loud. He immediately covered your mouth, muffling out your moans.

As your pace went faster, your orgasm did too. You felt a coil in your stomach and clenched on his pants.

"Come for me, honey. That's it— you're doing such a great job." he praised in your ear.

After a few more rocks, you finally came in your underwear. It didn't stain his pants but it was crumpled.

"Since you're gonna do my report... then I'll show you what a bad behavior is."

You jumped out from his thigh and kneeled. Your fingers started to unzip his pants and pulled it down. Hotch was definitely hard. Then, you removed his black boxers, allowing his hardened cock to sprung out. There was a small leak of precum on his tip. Your fingers started to toy with his tip, brushing it in a teasingly way. Aaron closed his eyes at the pleasure, his back arched slightly. Your palms begin to pump on his whole length slowly.

Aaron was desperate.

Desperate for your touch.

Desperate for your mouth.

Desperate for you to take him whole.

"(Y/n).." he moaned softly.

A smiled carved your lips as you heard him moan your name. It was your favorite music. Your favorite note. Your favorite melody. Your palms pumped his dick faster and faster. He whined and whimpered. His head moved back with his eyes completely shut. In a surprise, your mouth fully took his cock, the tip hitting at the back of your throat. You gagged at first but you got comfortable after a few seconds; you started to bob your head, your tongue licking on his dick inside. Aaron's cock hit your cheeks, the soft and warm feeling made him even more harder.

"God—so warm.. Just like that, yes.." Aaron took a fistful of your hair and guided your speed. He was big, thick, and veiny. You looked at him with innocent eyes but a lustful mouth. You gripped his thighs for support as you continued bobbing your head.Your pace quickened and you felt his cock twitch inside your mouth.

He's close.

"Are you going to swallow it all, honey?" You nodded in response as he thrusted his hips, fucking your mouth over and over again.

"Swallow it all, honey. You're doing such a great job."

After a few more thrust and bobbing, he finally came. White, warm, and creamy liquid spurted out on his dick inside your mouth. You licked his dick from top to bottom clean, making sure you get to taste and swallow every single cum he has.

You stood up and Aaron put his boxers back on and buckled his pants. The both of you were out of breath.

"I'll list that. Not on the file but on my journal." Aaron commented.

"You know, Aaron, we still have 30 minutes 'till landing. Maybe you can pay me back, huh?" you said, grabbing his tie seductively and whispered on his ear.

Little did the both of you know, all the team members were now awake.

And they heard every single noise that came out from the both of you.

#x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds reader insert #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner smut #thomas gibson #kinktober

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kasagia · 6 months ago

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Right Hand V

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!exBeneGesserit! reader Summary: The Bene Gesserit has something... very interesting to show you—something that only makes you question your situation more. During this time, Feyd is also put to a great test. But how much can your relationship endure before you both come to the conclusion that maybe you're not meant to be together? Warning: 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; fight; brutality; smut; Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART IV ~•♤♤♤•~ PART VI ~•♤♤♤•~

Dreams have a strange power. You can see your future and past in them. You can drift between dreamland and the real world and be semi-aware of your surroundings. You can create a new reality that is more tempting than your real life. Dreams can be either your sweet escape from reality or your dark oppressor.

For you, dreams were reminders of what had been, ghosts of the past, catching you in your most vulnerable state. But this time, you weren't dreaming about your past.

You were in Giedi Prime. You walked through familiar corridors, hiding from the Harkonnens' eyes. It was rare to meet anyone in these corridors. Most of them were dead ends with secret passages that were unknown to most of the inhabitants of Giedi Prime. That's why you were terribly surprised when suddenly someone pulled you by your cloak.

You freeze, startled, and turn slowly to face the small child. The kid looks like Harkonnen's child, but not quite. His skin is creamier than white, and white hair grows on his head in unruly curls. But what you recognised perfectly were the blue, bright irises that only one person could boast on Gieidi Prime.

"Mommy!" A boy around 5 years old runs up to you and hugs your legs as you look at him in shock and confusion. “Dad said he would take us on a trip! To Lankiveil! We will swim in a real lake! Can you imagine that?!” – he asks excitedly and holds out his hands to you. You automatically scoop him up into your arms and place him on your hip, trying to figure out what the hell is happening.

Someone's quick footsteps echo in the corridor. You look past the child and see one of the harpies approaching you. She breathed a sigh of relief and bowed to you when she saw the boy in your arms.

"You can't run away like that, my lord Na-Baron. The baron told us to look after you."

"I didn't run away. I quickly left to find my mom. Dad wanted to speak with her. Besides, it's not my fault that you're so slow." Both you and the woman next to you do everything in your power not to burst out laughing. You smile, burying your face in your "son's" hair. He was so damn similar to his father and you.

The boy jumps out of your arms and grabs your hand. He runs with you through familiar corridors and hidden passages, not caring if you can keep up with him.

This way, you are in the war room in just a few seconds. Feyd stands with his back to you, analysing something on the hologram of the planets in front of him. He doesn't even flinch when the secret passage closes behind you with a bang.

"Dad, I brought mom." Your boy announces proudly, leading you to Feyd. The man turns and runs his hand through your son's hair. The little one smiles, showing a series of night-black teeth... with small cavities. He looked so damn cute. Like a little version of his father...

"Good job, Feydor. At least you are able to find your mother in her shadows. Go, torment your uncle. I've heard that you promised Rabban a great fight after our lessons." Feyd says teasingly, wrapping his arm around your waist. You roll your eyes at his comment about shadows, but you can't help but watch his interactions with your son in fascination.

Feyd was rarely around children; on Giedi Prime, they were quite... not shown much. They were a temporary inconvenience rather than a source of pride, and the noblest and most important of the inhabitants rarely cared for their own descendants. The nannies and servants usually took care of them. That's why you observed with admiration how soft and tender he was towards the boy, who was a living mix of both of you.

"I did! I can't wait to use the voice on him. I love you, dad. I love you, mom." He hugs you and practically runs to the training room, looking forward to training with his uncle.

"Just don't humiliate your uncle too much! And remember to turn on your shield!" Feyd shouts after him, and you feel like crying at the worried and caring look on his face. You've never seen him like this. Well, not when the two of you were in no danger. "In moments like these, I feel sorry for Rabban. He has to face a deadly mix of both of us. Devious beast, just like us. It doesn't matter that Rabban is not using all his strength against him; he would have defeated him anyway with his tactical mind and the tricks he learned from you. I need to start training with him so that he doesn't become too arrogant and self-confident after his numerous victories over Rabban. He must always be alert and ready for his opponent."

Honestly, you're not listening carefully to what he's saying. You are shocked by this new reality in which you find yourself. It was too surreal for you. But you couldn't stop your heart from fluttering as he spoke about his son with such tenderness and pride. Your son.

"What's wrong? You look pale. Are you two alright? You had unusual cravings again, and now you regret what you ate?" The concern in his eyes confuses you even more. He places his hand tenderly on your stomach and watches you carefully, searching for any sign of discomfort as you wonder what the hell happened to make him... like this. It must have been your imagination. This couldn't be any vision of your future, because even in your wildest dreams, you had never imagined it to be so... beautiful. "Y/N? Talk to me, my baroness. Should I call a healer?"

"I'm fine." You reply with a smile, shaking your head and placing your hand on his—the one that was still tenderly caressing your small pregnancy belly.

"You sure?" Your lips hurt from smiling as you try your hardest not to cry in front of him with emotion. So you grab him by the neck and pull him in for a kiss.

He caresses your lips so gently and tangles his hand so carefully in your hair that you feel like you're about to cry from the way this rare, soft side of him makes you feel that he so bravely shows you.

"Yes... we... we are perfect." You whisper, resting your forehead against his, not at all referring to yourself and the child. You close your eyes, letting yourself breathe in his scent as he draws patterns with his finger on your stomach, keeping his arm possessively around you.

You wrap your arms around him tightly and bury your face in his neck, holding him as close as you can. He laughs softly and presses a kiss on your temple.

"There you are... I almost forgot how sweetly clingy you are while carrying my heir under your heart. We should've tried for a sister for our Kwisatz Haderach a long time ago." He murmurs against your skin and lazily plays with your hair, massaging your head. "Are you sure you are feeling good? You have been very quiet. Usually, you would throw all sorts of insults and banter at me. It's not too late for you to swallow your pride and admit that you want to give birth on Arrakis or anywhere other than on this polluted planet. Damn what those old hags think of you; it won't make you any less of a Harkonnen."

Your heart swells with every word he says. It takes a lot of strength on your part not to cry in his arms and to keep your voice from shaking as you try to form a coherent sentence.

"I... just promise me you will never let me go." You ask him, not daring to even look at him because you're afraid you'll cry the moment his eyes meet yours.

"You stuck with us, my baroness. Nothing can separate us." He promises it to you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head and tightening his hold on you. You felt safe. Warm. Loved.

"Good." You mumble, snuggling into him even more. You act as if this is really happening, like this is really supposed to be your life and future.

You have come to the conclusion that it is impossible and unrealistic for Feyd to change like this. The Harkonnens were not soft; they did not lead a tender family life and cared for their wives if they did take one. But in the end, it's your dream. So you sink into his arms, enjoying the sweet words he whispers in your ear and the way he strokes your hair.

Feyd had never been in such a hurry to get to his chambers. His heart was beating fast, and adrenaline was pumping through his veins as he thought about what had happened in those few hours. The baron is missing. He was kidnapped or killed by the Fremen. Feyd was to take his place until they found his uncle's body or the council officially declared him dead.

And Feyd had his suspicions about who could have contributed to the sudden disappearance of his beloved uncle. You couldn't have given him a better birthday present. In fact, you could, and he was practically running back to his chambers to pick it up.

He enters the chambers and immediately senses that it is too quiet there. He tries to dispel any suspicions and enters his bedroom, only to find the bed empty.

“Y/N?” He calls out, knocking on the table a few times to make his presence known. He peeks into the bathroom, slightly hoping that maybe you're waiting for him in the hot bath to tease him even more, but you weren't there either.

He frowns. He wonders if this isn't one of your games. Isn't that what you wanted—to play cat and mouse with him, to give him an exciting chase before he wins and can finally ravage you—but he quickly dismisses that (charming) idea. You were as desperate as he was. You wouldn't leave this room unless it was urgent. At least he hoped so.

He clenches his fists as he steps out into the main room of his chambers. The idea crosses his mind that maybe this time you actually ran away from him. He wouldn't be surprised. Maybe you finally snapped; maybe he scared you too much; maybe he went a step too far today by injecting you with truth serum and torturing your former lover/friend.

After all, you didn't say you loved him. You also didn't say that you despised him or that you wanted him to leave you. You could have escaped from him when the perfect opportunity presented itself…

"My lord, Na-Baron?" The frightened tone of one of the guards' voices brings Feyd out of his thoughts. He realises that he has gone out into the hall and is standing in the doorway, staring blankly at his two men. He clears his throat and turns his cold, calculating gaze on one of them.

"Have you seen my right hand?" They both shake their heads, not daring to look at him.

"No one left or entered these chambers except you, my na-baron." His madness grows as he unintentionally compares them to you. You always had the courage to face his anger and look at him, proudly bearing his burning gaze.

If you really run away from him... he will unleash hundreds of hounds, bring you back to him at all costs, and make sure you never leave his side again. He won't give a fuck if that's what you want. He gave you countless opportunities to leave him and end things between you two in a civilised way without brutality or bloodshed, but you didn't want it. The only thing stopping you two from being together were your stupid prejudices and fear. He planned to get rid of them completely once he got his hands on you again.

"Bring her to me." He growls at them, turning to go back to his chambers.

"But my lord..." Before the soldier can finish his sentence, Feyd reaches for his blade and cuts his throat with one skillful move. It eases the tension in his muscles a little, but the moment the man falls dead to the floor in front of him, his mood sours again. Because he remembers how, in moments like these, you often gave him a disapproving look and cleaned up the mess he made.

He growls at the other soldier, who is shaking with fear, to clean up and closes the door behind him with a loud bang. He had to find you. You got too deep under his skin for him to just forget about you. First, he had to determine whether you disappeared alone or whether someone had helped you. And God save him who dared to steal his baroness from under his nose.

He carefully examines his chambers, slowly exploring every corner. He frowns when he sees a familiar, polished dagger in his weapon collection. He picks it up and looks at it carefully. It was your blade. The one you had attached to your thigh. You had never left it—not since you got it from him for your birthday.

"Na-baron. You wanted to see me." You say, walking onto the balcony of his chambers. Feyd doesn't turn towards you. He stares at Giedi Prime spread out below him, the city completely shrouded in darkness. Only the few white stars that managed to penetrate the polluted atmosphere illuminated the planet with a pale glow. You quickly catch the hint and stand next to him, also looking at the buildings.

"I hate it here." He confesses to you without knowing why. "My home planet had seas, lakes, wild landscapes, and tundra that no one dared to tame. And here everything is so..."

"Controlled. Polluted. Defiled. Exploited. No room for anything... wild or natural." You finish for him. He nods, agreeing with your words.

It's been two years since you served him. And he had to admit that he didn't have such a good man on whom he could always count. You were extraordinary. Loyal, faithful, brave, honourable, and cunning. Feyd wanted to liberate you. Not many could live up to his expectations, but you seemed to know exactly what he wanted and needed after just one look. It aroused in him... strange feelings. Disturbing. But he didn't think about it when he was around you.

He preferred to admire your… difference. The hair that flowed slightly in the wind, the way your eyebrows knitted together in anger when someone questioned your position as his right-hand man, the way you walked, the way you could disappear into the shadows, the cunning and strength of your mind. You were an extraordinary woman. He started to appreciate you for the time you spent planning together. Nightly conversations about the nobility of Giedi Prime, your battle plans, and court intrigues became… something other than work for him. He was starting to like being close to you.

And at night, when he was with his concubines... he found himself imagining you in their place. And how much he wanted you... so much so lately that every little thing you did was the hottest, erotic act for him, even the way you moaned in appreciation when you ate good food. He was fucked up. Like a teenager in love.

But he didn't love you. He could not. His uncle had told him many times that the Harkonnens knew no love or affection. He just had to wait until this desire passed or find another right hand and make you his concubine, which was a much more difficult task. There were many pussies and holes he could have used, but you were the only one who seemed to have a mind even remotely like his. He couldn't afford to lose such a good strategist and soldier.

"Do you need anything, Na-Baron?" Your gentle question brings him out of his thoughts. He nods and goes to his chambers. He returns quickly with a black box in his hands. He hands it to you, carefully watching your reaction.

"Happy birthday, little witch." He says, not hiding a small smirk when he sees your shock. He managed to surprise you so rarely that he treated every such moment with reverence, as if it were the most important moment of his life. Pathetic. What power you had over him…

"How did you..."

"I have my ways too. Open it." He interrupts you, excited by your reaction to his gift. He puts his hands behind his back, feeling his fingers tremble slightly as they begin to sweat. He ignores it, completely focused on you as you gently untie the white bow and open the box. You hold your breath, staring at the dagger in awe. "Steel from my home planet. Don't stab yourself with it by accident. When it pierces someone's body, a piece of the blade dissolves under the heat of the attacker's blood. A small dose of this metal in the human body causes, in the worst case, a moribund state and death. We call it the shadow killer because death occurs hours after the attack unless an antidote is administered."

"I... I don't know what to say." You whisper, taking out the blade and running your fingertips over it. He looks at you with pride. He made it all by himself. For you. A detail he would take with him to his grave rather than admit to anyone.

"You can thank me. Didn't the Bene Gesserit teach you this?" He asks teasingly, making you roll your eyes at him. However, you give him such a beautiful smile that his black, rotten heart beats faster, letting him know about you for the first time in years.

"Thank you, Feyd." He melts when you say his name. You used it so infrequently that he had every little moment seared into his memory when you let your professionalism slip through and did it. And he loved the way his name sounded on your lips. He couldn't help but imagine what it would sound like when you shouted it, under much more pleasant circumstances.

"You know, we Harkonnens kiss each other on the lips as an expression of gratitude." He says this as your eyes move back to the dagger. He sees you freeze at the memory of it. You blush slightly, but enough for Feyd to notice the slight change. And he absolutely loves seeing you blushing and confused.

"I'm not a Harkonnen." You respond with a cheeky smile, and he shakes his head in amusement.

"But you are on our planet. I guess you should follow our rules and customs, right? Besides, in a few years, you'll be considered one of us."

"If I survive."

"I think you have a good chance." He smiles at your banter. The pride in his chest grows even more when, instead of looking at his black teeth in horror, you giggle, unfazed. You were so different…

However, he freezes when you take a step towards him. You cup his cheeks in your hands and pull him in for a kiss. He almost moans into your mouth like a total slut. It takes all of his willpower not to kiss you back, not to pull you closer, and not to actually taste your lips. But he can't. He won't show that he is that weak for you. So he keeps this fake kiss very professional. He is digging his nails into his palms until they bleed, as he is too afraid that he will accidentally reach for your body and pull you closer to him.

You pull away from him as suddenly as you place your lips on him. And he's both shocked and angry that your lips left his so quickly. His eyes wander to your lips as you lick them. Feyd curses himself for how badly he wants that pink tongue of yours to wrap around his own... or the hardening manhood in his pants.

"Thank you, Na-Baron Feyd Rautha." You whisper and head towards the exit, leaving him there, completely horny and wanting more of you—your touch, your kisses, your lips, your taste, your everything. He feels himself blushing at the thought of what he wants to do to you.

"Your welcome, my little witch." He mumbles as you disappear back into your shadows. He puts his bloody fingertips on his lips, tasting his blood. He closes his eyes, imagining how sweet you must taste...

Yeah... Feyd couldn't love you. A lie he had told himself since that night every time he felt his heart pound in his chest whenever he saw you.

"Brother… I mean... my Baron…" Rabban's voice reaches him vaguely as he continues to recall that day. Now he knew the taste of your lips... and your more intimate parts. And damn him if he doesn't put his fingers and tongue on you again.

"What?" He growls at him furiously, unsheathing his dagger and attaching yours to his body. The blade of the dagger was a bit uneven. And soft in his hands. It must have been used recently. And from the dried blood on the handle, he guessed that someone had clumsily tried to clean it. Someone took you from him.

He returns to the bedroom and grabs your shawl from the floor. He puts it to his nose and inhales your scent. He calms down a little—not enough for his fury to disappear, but enough to start thinking logically.

He was going to turn Arrakis into a living hell.

"The council has met. All high families. They are waiting for you."

Feyd would ignore it and go straight to find you, but your disgruntled face appears before his eyes. He would know that you would advise him to go to the council and present himself as best as possible—show his strength. He sighed, wrapping your shawl around his wrist as he made a decision.

"I see. Let's go." He announces this as he leaves the room and doesn't wait for Rabban to follow him. His brother runs after him, cursing under his breath as he tries to keep up with his fast pace. Feyd had a plan in his head and a clear goal. He'll have you in his arms at the end of the day, or he'll burn this damn planet down looking for you.

"And your witch?" Feyd suddenly stops. He turns his head slowly and looks at his brother, narrowing his eyes at him.

He shakes his head, knowing full well that you would castrate his brother before allowing him and his men to take you away. Rabban was too stupid for that and too afraid of him. If Feyd had to bet on who did it, he would choose the Bene Gesserit or Atreides with his Fremen.

"She won't be there. Order our men to close the airspace and monitor movements in the desert. Tell them to keep an eye on the Reverend Mothers and the Bene Gesserit. If they object to or question my decision, order to tell them that the baron is only trying to keep them safe. They are to report their every move to me. Once you've done that, join the meeting."

"Me?" He asks in shock, following obediently after him.

"You are my brother. We have to show that we are strong and that there are no divisions between us. Especially after my uncle is dead. They may think we are weak targets and want to get rid of us, just like we did with the Atreides. We must assert our dominance."

Rabban nods, looking at him warily. Feyd doesn't care what he looks like. They took you away from him. He'll do anything to get you back. It doesn't matter if he makes you seem mad or a worse psychopath than he already is.

Why does he need a reputation as a bloodthirsty beast if someone dared to get their hands on what's his anyway? People sentenced themselves to death and then dared to say that he was unpredictable. Pathetic idiots. He hoped you were giving them hell. His heart ached uncomfortably at the thought of someone hurting you while he had to deal with the nobility.

"Let's be honest. Baron Vladimir is dead. Paul Atreides is still at large, probably planning our murder, and the Fremen are rampaging in the desert, worshipping the false prophet. What are you going to do about it, Baron Feyd Rautha?" Feyd clenched his fists under the table. He slowly stopped being surprised that his uncle had become such a man.

After talking to the emperor for a moment, he felt like cutting out his tongue and gouging out the eyes of other high families staring at him. As if his role was to play their hero...

"We have already taken the first measures. It only takes a few bombs to extinguish the spirit of these desert rats. As for Paul Atreides... my people are looking for him. And my right hand went missing the night my uncle died. We suspect this is a related case. I'm going to head out into the desert and join the search. Of course, leaving members of high families in the care of my brother and some of our people. No one will leave Arrakis until the traitors are killed."

His calm, unruffled demeanour, and silent threat caused a slight stir in the room. Feyd suppressed a smirk. He loved controlling the crowd this way. However, he knew that impressing the emperor would be more difficult. Words were not enough to prove that the Harkonnens were a force they should be afraid of. And so far, his brother and uncle have only brought humiliation to their family. He had to fix it. Only with you by his side. That's why he had to leave this pointless meeting as soon as possible and start taking some action. His weapon craved blood.

"It wouldn't be the first time a concubine had gone missing." Princess Irulan comments. Feyd shifts his gaze to her, analysing her carefully. She was paler than usual, her posture more indifferent, as if she were trying hard to hide her true emotions behind her mask. Feyd made a note to look at her more closely.

"Probably not, Princess Irulan. However, in light of recent events—the Atreides attack, the death of my dear uncle, and the increased activity of the Fremen—I am certain that this is not a mere disappearance. This is a deliberate action. Attack on noble houses. Attack on the Harkonnens. And maybe I wouldn't be so concerned about my right hand being missing if it weren't for the baby." After his words, silence fell in the room. Feyd delights in the shocked look from the princess and the nobles in the room.

"The baby?"

"My heir she carries." Feyd nods, repeating his words to the emperor.

Feyd could barely contain his smirk, knowing full well how much you would like to see the faces of representatives of great houses now. To say they were shocked was an understatement. But what else was he supposed to say? That he goes looking for you with a thousand of his troops because he loves you and simply can't lose you? Only the thought of losing his heir was... a good reason to search all of Arrakis and close the airspace—any possibility of leaving the planet.

Because who would stop Harkonnen from desperately searching for the woman who carries his heir? Even a fool wouldn't dare. And if the Bene Gesserit were behind your kidnapping, they wouldn't dare do anything to you either after hearing that... surprising information. After all, they needed his offspring for their plans. Why would they destroy one? Feyd just hoped to get to you first before anyone discovered that you weren't pregnant at all.

"You horny dog! Why didn't you say anything?" Rabban pats him on the back, laughing hoarsely. It breaks the awkward silence in the room. But still, everyone's eyes are on him.

"We preferred to wait with any celebration until we were sure that the baby was growing healthily. After all, this could be our Kwisatz Hederach. Of course, now the safe return of my fiancée with our child is much more important. Therefore, I hope that the Emperor will consent to whatever… measures I intend to take in this matter. Whoever dared to raise a hand against the Harkonnens will pay the weight of their crimes in blood." Feyd continues his lies, knowing full well that you will kick his ass when you find out he called you his fiancée in front of great houses.

"But… I talked to the Baron…"

"My uncle... has not been in good health for a long time. May he rest in peace. Whatever arrangement he made with you, the emperor, during my reign it must be discussed again. Unfortunately, he will not rise from the grave and give us all the details."

"Of course… Baron Feyd-Rautha." The Emperor nods at him. Feyd takes the opportunity and decides to leave the room while he can. He nods to his brother, who turns out to be intelligent enough to understand the message and stands up as well.

"Excellent. If you don't mind, we'll leave now."

He doesn't wait for an answer. He just goes out, with Rabban close behind him. He orders him to prepare the army for the march and place spies around the fortress. They split up halfway to Feyd's rooms. He goes to prepare for his departure, hoping that Rabban will cope with the tasks he has entrusted to him. He missed you. He knew he wouldn't have to worry about anything if you were by his side.

He sighs as he enters his chambers. He stops in his tracks, seeing Princess Irulan next to his collection of weapons. He closes the door behind him with a bang, announcing his presence. The woman trembles and turns towards him.

"Baron."

"Princess." He responds coldly, looking at her carefully. He didn't say anything more. He wanted her to explain her sudden presence in his chambers. He notices, however, that his new title sounds nasty coming from her mouth, no matter how seductively she tries to say it. He imagines you whispering it in his ear as you ride him on his new throne on Giedi Prime...

"I thought you were leaving." He returns to the present moment, making sure he remembers to fulfil this fantasy once you both get back from this damn planet.

"I needed to change first." He replies and clears his throat, suggesting that she should leave. Unfortunately, she either doesn't want to or doesn't understand his hint and stays where she is, watching him carefully.

He feels like he's playing chess. One wrong move, and he loses a pawn. He hated this game until you started playing with him in the evenings, when you exchanged gossip from the court and your own comments. He doesn't remember how many times you fell asleep and he carried you to his bed. His harpies hated these evenings, and he too hated them at the beginning. Over time, he was just waiting for that moment when he was able to watch you snuggle into his pillow, sleeping peacefully.

"I… that's good. I was hoping to talk to you before you left."

"Talk then." He says this and starts taking off his clothes. He notices her blush and the way she looks away. But there's nothing sweet or funny about this gesture, unlike the way you do it. He changes into his usual tactical battle armour as fast as he can, still thinking about the way you used to even shout at him when he was going fully naked around you.

"I was shocked by this news. About the baby. And your fiancée."

"Why?"

"Well, you know very well, my lord, that the Bene Gesserit has planned to unite our families. This shouldn't have happened." He furrows his hairless eyebrows, feeling the anger start to boil within him again. How dare she tell him what he should do? Who should get pregnant, and who should not? He didn't care what the Bene Gesserit wanted. Feyd wanted you, and you probably wanted him. That was all that mattered.

"Would you rather be at my fiancée's place? Would you rather carry my baby instead of her?" He asks dangerously, approaching her slowly. Before she can react, he lunges forward and almost crushes her neck in his grip when he prevents her from using the voice. "You are trembling with fear, princess. It is pathetic that the Bene Gesserit even thought we could connect in any way. Even if we got married, I wouldn't lay a finger on you. At best, I would kill you right after I consolidated my power as emperor. Now that we both know where we stand... Tell me, where is my little witch?"

"The Reverend Mother sent her to Paul Atreides' hideout." She answers him obediently. Feyd smirks sadistically and maliciously as her eyes widen in shock when she realises he has used the voice on her. "How?" She managed to ask before Feyd tightened his grip on her throat again, giving her a bored look.

"With one of your witches by my side, do you think I won't do anything to learn your tricks? I'm not an idiot to let an opportunity like this pass me by. You think that I didn't also see you wince with every move at the meeting? This must have happened right after my fiancée stabbed you when you kidnapped her, right? The poison took effect, didn't it? Are you feeling weak? Do you feel how you slowly lose your vitality with each breath? It will get even worse. Maybe my fiancée will have the mercy to give you the antidote, but I have no intention of doing so. Now listen to me carefully. You won't say or write even a word to inform anyone about what happened. You will lock yourself in your room and endure the effects of the poison without complaining to anyone that something is wrong with you. Get out of my sight before I finish my beloved's work."

He throws her away like a rag doll, feeling defiled just by touching her neck. The only reason he kept her alive was because she was the emperor's daughter, and he couldn't afford to get rid of her YET. She runs away from him as soon as his grip on her neck is gone.

He smiles mockingly and leaves his chambers as well. Now that he knew you would be in the desert, he was going to dig up those damn sand folds and kill all the Fremen and Bene Gesserit who had a hand in your kidnapping.

And once you are by his side again, he will give you the heads of the princess, Corrino's Reverend Mother, and Atreides on a golden platter—an engagement present worthy of a real baroness. Well, he'll have to convince you to marry him first. He sighs, realising how much work is still ahead of him.

You wake up feeling numb. Entirely. There's a gag in your mouth, your hands are tied behind your back, and your ankles are cuffed together, completely preventing you from moving.

You look around your surroundings, realising that you are in one of the Fremen hideouts. A small room carved into the sandy rock resembles a prison cell. You gasp as you try to get off the floor. With a groan, you lean against the cold wall behind you as you somehow manage to sit up. You wonder how the hell you ended up here. And how can you escape when you are completely incapacitated?

Suddenly, the door to the room opens, and Corrino's Reverend Mother enters. You look at the woman with a calculating gaze, showing no emotion other than disgust.

"Y/N Y/L/N. We thought you were dead."

You roll your eyes at her. The old hag knew perfectly well that you had a gag. The fact that she expected any response from you was ridiculous.

"You betrayed your sisters. We should have killed you the moment you were recognised by one of us. You're lucky we're still keeping you alive."

You would snort if you didn't have a gag in your mouth. The Bene Gesserit knew no mercy; if they kept you alive, it was because they still needed you in their plans. After all, you were the strongest of them, which might not be visible now, but it was the truth. They didn't train you all your life and shape you into their ideal form of some sick Holly Mother, just to throw you away now.

You are tensing as the old woman walks up to you and painfully grabs your jaw. You glare at her furiously with your own, not showing an ounce of fear or remorse. What you wouldn't give to have at least a butter knife with you…

"Do you think you are smart, child? That you managed to escape fate? Not at all. Our visions may have been blurry, but now we see everything. Paul Atreides sees everything. After his plan succeeds, he becomes emperor, and you will become his concubine and the mother of the Kwisatz Hederach. Until then, we will keep you under control."

"Who allowed you to come in here?" A cold, commanding voice echoes throughout the small cell. The Reverend Mother steps away from you as if she's been burned by him, giving you the opportunity to look at Paul Atreides as she steps inside. You shiver as his cold gaze falls on you, but you show them nothing but disgust and anger. If you're going to die, at least you will make sure that before you do that, you'll be remembered by them as one big pain in the ass.

"I..."

"Silience!" Atreides yells at her as she feebly tries to explain herself to him. You frown, wondering how the hell he gained such power over the Bene Gesserit. "Leave us alone."

The woman nods obediently and leaves, closing the bars to your cell behind her. You shift your gaze to Atreides, examining him carefully. He was… more portly than you remembered him last time. He became stronger, tougher, and visibly hardened by the sands of Arrakis, since his posture was stiff as armour. You catch yourself thinking that if he stood in the arena in Giedi Prime, he would still lose to your na-baron.

"I am not here to hurt you, Y/N." Atreides says, walking over to you. He crouches down so that you are both at the same height. You look closely at the features of his face, analysing them carefully, trying to read what's behind the strange behaviour of the mysterious Fremen's prophet. "We both have our roles to play here. Something that is above us. I learned a lot about you.I know about your service to the Harkonnens, what you endured as a Bene Gesserit, and every darkest part of your past. And I know you are a wise and very strong woman. You probably understand why all this is so important and why we must fulfil the prophecy and take our places in this story." He says, removing your gag. You clear your throat as he finishes his speech, and, trying to hide your concern, you growl, your voice so hoarse and dripping with madness that Feyd would surely be proud of you:

"You are a mad freak. Feyd will kill you as soon as he finds you. And hell knows, he will come for me. It will be pure joy to fight him for the privilege of being the one who impales your head." Atreides gives you a small smile. He shakes his head, amused by what you're saying. He stands up, helping you to stand on your two feet as well, placing his hands on your waist respectfully, and touching you as little as necessary.

"Come with me. Let me show you something." He says this in an extremely calm voice as he removes the chain from around your ankles. You briefly consider kicking him and trying to escape, but you realise there's not much you can do with your hands tied. You are also still weak—too weak to maintain control over someone else for long with the voice. "Do not be afraid. I told you. I have no reason to hurt you." He encourages, concluding that your hesitation is out of fear and not a desire to attack him.

"I lived for years among the Harkonnens. I'm not afraid of anything except myself."

He gives you an ironic smirk, as if he were convinced that he was an evil worse than the Harkonnens. You don't care about his poor attempts to intimidate you. You weren't some desert rat to be terrified of a man with nice curls and eyes.

You walk through a series of corridors, and of course he leads you, holding your arm tightly and making sure you don't do anything stupid on this little trip around his kingdom. It brings you great satisfaction. Your reputation had obviously taken its toll if he continued to be vigilant around you while you were still half sedated and tied up without any weapons.

You smile sadistically at the Fremen you pass. They look away from you, too afraid to meet your gaze. You were known among them as the Na-Baron's bloodthirsty right-hand, whose cruelty rivalled that of many Harkonnens.

You and Atreides go deeper down. You slowly start to feel dizzy from the number of corridors, corners, and stairs he tells you to take, but eventually you reach a more spacious room. You sigh, feeling the humid air—a sweet change from the dry Arrakis wind. Atreides takes the torch and leads you deeper into the room. You gasp as you see a large pool full of water.

"The Fremen treat water as something sacred. They collect it from the bodies of their people; the water of the more deserving people goes to such pools."

"This is a waste. And stupid, considering that they are dying from a lack of water while having pools of it safely hidden from the Harkonnens." You notice, staring at the pool of water. You tense as you feel Paul's searching gaze on you. You turn your head and give him an intimidating look. He doesn't even flinch. He is unfazed as he continues to analyse you—something you don't like at all. You wish Feyd was here. He would gouge Atreides' eyes out the first time his gaze lingered on you for a second too long.

"Possible. But it's not the first time we waste something in the name of faith, right?"

"Faith befuddles and stupefies. Same as prophecies. We are responsible for our own fate. It doesn't matter what some crazy old man wrote in the books a hundred years ago, probably under the influence of drugs or other alcohol. No one influences our future except ourselves."

His silence at your words worries you. You turn your head to look at him. A small smirk spreads across his face—a sign that your words didn't outrage him as much as they were supposed to. He nods, agreeing with your words, and you realise what he really means. The son of a bitch was testing you. Logical, considering that he was the one who started the cult of him. He thought like you. He did not believe in any Kwisatz Hederach, and even if he did, he considered himself one. He just needed you to keep the propaganda and people's faith in him.

He wanted to show that he had tamed the Harkonnen's witch.

Atreides walks over to you and carefully places a hand on your shoulder, directing you to a different side of the room. You pass by a pool of water. In the centre, there is a large stone bowl on a platform.

"The Reverend Mothers call it the mirror of wisdom. It shows us our future if we continue on the path we are currently on. Look. See what awaits you with your crazy beast by your side."

"It's very brave of you to think that I'm not one." He chuckled at your words. He lets go of you and takes two steps back, keeping his amused, curious gaze on you.

"The Harkonnens are different from us. You may think you are one of them, that you have absorbed their ways and behaviours, but the truth is that you are not one of them at all. You may have adapted to survive among them, but can you look me in the eyes and tell me you don't long for something more... normal?"

"Normality is for the weak." You reply, huffing furiously. "Apart from that, my life has always been different from normal. This is my normality, Atreides."

"Even the bravest warrior needs a break, a moment of respite. Look. Aren't you curious?"

You were very damn curious. Especially after that strange dream/vision you had. So, without saying a word, you approach the bowl of water. You take a breath and dive your head into it, letting the images flood your mind.

This time you are not on Giedi Prime, and you are not a participant in the events. From a distance, you watch the older version of yourself adjust the crown on her head. Empress's crown.

You see yourself flinching in the mirror as the door to your chamber bursts open. Feyd, dressed as an emperor, walks in furiously, heading straight for you. He pushes the large mirror, smashing it against the wall with a roar.

However, you don't care about his sudden attack and watch him, unfazed, as he gasps with rage.

"Is something wrong, honey?" You ask in an almost too-sweet tone, mocking him.

"Do you have the nerve to ask me that? Why don't you tell me where my concubine is instead? Where did you send her? You gave the corpses to the harpies to eat? If any harm has come to her, I will make you eat all three of them before I tear out your cunning heart from your chest, witch."

"You'd have to touch me first. And we both know that lately you're more afraid of laying a finger on me than of our son dethroning you. Which is very surprising, by the way. Has that concubine of yours brainwashed you so much?" You see yourself smiling mockingly as you watch his anger grow with every word you say.

"Don't talk about her like that. Unlike you, she's not a cold, uncaring, selfish bitch."

"Of course not. A smart woman wouldn't willingly sleep with you." This completely breaks the remnants of his composure. He walks over to the older version of you and wraps his hand around her neck, pressing her against the wall.

But he doesn't do it the same way he does with you. It's not a gentle neck hold, a warning, or anything sexual—something that would turn you both on. He just cuts you off, choking you, watching with sick satisfaction as you squirm, trying to get out of his grasp.

"What's stopping me from ending your miserable life? You have already given me a son; your usefulness has long passed, and yet I still let you breathe the same air as me." He says this, tightening his grip on your neck. You gasp as he pushes you away.

From the way you fall to the floor and choke for air, you assume that the older version of you was only seconds away from suffocating. But you don't surrender to him; you don't give him any satisfaction in trying to intimidate you. You start laughing derisively, shaking your head in amusement as you slowly get up from the floor.

"Aw... you couldn't kill me. You're like a dog. You bark and do little. You love me too much to kill me, don't you remember? How did you beg me all those years ago for a piece of my feelings? Who said I love you first? Who was begging on his knees for my hand? Who wanted to have a child? You. You are just a desperate little boy looking for love and affection. You probably even liked the fact that I'm jealous of you and kill your lover? Unfortunately, I don't give a shit who you fuck. I didn't steal your whore, so get out and don't waste my time, husband." You mock him, waiting expectantly for his next move.

He stares at you with pure hatred and resentment. You feel the tension in the room begin to build; the immense anger and disgust between the two of you are palpable. You have no fucking idea how you came to be so hostile towards each other, but... you can't say you're surprised. Because if you were already imagining a future with Feyd... this was the scenario that came to your mind most often.

The two of you were too broken to trust each other and entrust each other with the remnants of the heart that beat and remained within you.

Feyd looks like he wants to say something. But he gives up and instead just leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.

You swallow, observing your pathetic fate. The empress locked in a golden palace. At eternal war with everyone. Lonely. Your heart aches at the thought of this being your fate. This is what you were running from. Before relegating you solely to the vessel she was to carry and give to the world, Kwisatz Hederach, Because what would be the use of you then? You would be rejected and alone. Waiting to die. However, you didn't expect your end to look like THIS.

A figure emerges from the darkness of the room through a hidden passage—a man who is a copy of you and Feyd. You see a similarity in him, in your movements, in your creeping through the shadows. He approaches you from behind, holding a dagger similar to the one Feyd gave you on your birthday. You don't react when you feel steel around your neck, as if you had long ago come to terms with how you would die—and by whose hands.

"You were right, mother… I was destined to achieve much more."

And with that, he cuts your throat. Crimson blood runs down your dress, almost invisible against the black material. You die quickly. Quietly. Like a rat...

"Have you seen something interesting?" Atreides' voice reaches you as you step away from the bowl after the vision ends. You sigh heavily, breathing heavily. Drops of water roll down your face and soak into your linen shirt.

"Screw you." You snap at him, trying to wipe your face on the frame. He tears off a piece of his shavl and walks over to you. He wipes the water from your face and hair, not caring about the scowl you throw at him in warning.

"I told you. The future with Harkonnen cannot end well. But if you stay with me, I promise nothing will happen to you. You can be more free with me than you ever could with him."

And you're tempted as hell to accept his offer. You can't say you're not interested at all, that what you saw hasn't made you question your choices... but you've been a Harkonnen for so many years. Could you really forget all this so easily? Forget about Feyd? Maybe in that stupid Bene Gesserit's bowl you saw your tragic end at his side... but did it really have to end like this? You could avoid all this. Take a risk to gain something much better...

"So this is your offer? Freedom and security for lending my uterus for 9 months?" You ask him, wanting to know exactly what options and choices you have.

"In very simple terms, yes." He nods, still staring at you. You find this very irritating of him; you were usually the one who pierced other people with your gaze. Not the other way around.

"What for? You're telling these fools that you're their saviour and the messiah. Kwisatz Hederach, ahead of his time. Why do you need me?"

"I need the support of the Reverend Mothers of other families. I may have... your powers and be the strongest of them all, but I've learned that if you can gain someone's support in a peaceful way, it's better to try it before reaching for a weapon."

Atreides stared at you like you were a puzzle to solve. You didn't like the hidden arrogance in his eyes—the belief that he was truly capable of discovering all your secrets.

Maybe he knew your past, and maybe he saw visions of the future, possible scenarios of what might have happened after his decisions, but the present was yours. And only yours. You will be more than happy to show him that no one could tear out all your fangs and claws.

"Feyd will kill you sooner and bind me with tighter chains than you did, than he ever allowed such a turn of events." You say confidently, convinced that he won't just leave you. In this situation, it's a huge relief for you... but in your head, you can still see his sadistic smirk as he choked you against the wall.

"Not if I kill him." You tense up at his words, and your heart starts to beat faster as you process his words. You would never think that Feyd Rautha could ever die—not by another person's hand, of course. And certainly not Atreides.

He fought too well, was too intelligent and cunning to fail in battle, and yet... you couldn't deny that that one simple sentence Paul said with such confidence didn't send a cold shiver of fear down your spine or that you felt no threat.

"Have you ever seen him in the arena? Or how does he fight? You may have become stronger thanks to your time on Arrakis, but he was trained from childhood to be a small, psychopathic killer and ruthless warrior. You don't stand a chance, Atreides. You won't last a minute fighting him."

"Maybe not in an equal fight. But by trick? More than one great king fell under the intrigue of a lesser man."

"Are you talking about your father or maybe even your mother?" You ask mockingly, making his jaw tense and his hands clench into fists. You are very pleased with yourself that you finally managed to hit his sweet spot. Feyd would be proud of you.

"I'm talking about what will happen. Feyd Rautha will die. From my hands." The more he talks about it, the more your anger grows. However, you decide to stay calm and continue the little exchange between the two of you, trying to get something useful from him.

"Are you that sure about your visions? You don't hesitate for a moment, Atreides? It must be so boring knowing what's going to happen. Never having any element of surprise…"

"There are no more certain and clear visions than mine. Maybe you should also start believing in them?"

"Not as long as I have my brain." And my own visions. You add it in your mind, thinking about what you had dreamed about before you woke up in this hole.

"The rumors about you don't lie… Harkonnen's witch." He hums as he walks over to you. His hand reaches up to your cheek, using the pad of his thumb to gently wipe your cheek clean of the drop of water still left on it.

You shiver, staring into his eyes. His touch burns, but not in a nice, familiar way. And when you realise that the reason you're not attracted to him is because he doesn't have the familiar ice-blue irises, pale skin, and bald head, it scares you more than Atreides' sudden proximity to you.

"I'm glad I didn't disappoint you, Atreides." You whisper, moving away from him. You quickly lean in, wanting to bite, or preferably bite off, his finger that was caressing your skin, but he withdraws his hand and takes a step away from you. He laughs at your feeble attempt to harm him.

He opens his mouth to say something, but then the ground around you starts shaking. The sand rock crumbles, causing some of it to fall from the ceiling onto the ground. Atreides looks at you suspiciously.

"Didn't you see it in your visions? Maybe there's a sandworm crawling through your halls?" You ask mockingly, shrugging your shoulders.

"Stay here." He commands you using the voice. He doesn't spare you a second glance, simply heading for the exit. You look at him in disbelief and quickly follow him. The last thing you want is to get buried in one of these rats' corridors because one of them summoned a sandworm in the wrong way.

"I could be of much more use to you there than here." You say, as you are catching up with him, desperately trying to convince him.

"Not if these are Harkonnens!" He replies without looking back and slamming the door shut. You kick them in rage, looking around angrily at the large hall where he left you.

"That's the point…" You sigh, fed up with it all. You walk around the room, trying to find a way out, but even when you manage to find the side passages, you can't take a step beyond the threshold. You are forced to stay inside. "Fucking Atreides."

Instead of wandering aimlessly around the room, you decide to try and break the shackles that bind your hands. You try to smash them against the stalagmite, only to hit harder as the metal cuts into your wrists. After a while, when you have released all your anger, you somehow manage to free your hands. You rub your wrists, letting your blood soak into the sleeve of your linen shirt. You close your eyes and listen to the quiet sound of the water and the footsteps you hear from the upper floors. Something is happening...

Frustrated, you wander over to the pool filled with water. You crouch on the edge and dip your toes in the water. You watch the drops fall, wondering how many people have already given their lives. How many died at the hands of the Harkonnens? You wonder whether your water and blood will also join the ranks of their victims. It seems surreal to you now that Feyd could ever kill you or your own son... but how were you supposed to know what your future was supposed to be? Were you supposed to trust some strange visions or yourself?

While playing with water, you freeze when you suddenly see someone leaning over you. Before you can turn around, a hand covers your mouth, and another wraps around your waist, lifting you up. You scream and kick, trying to get out of someone's tight grip, but your attempts to break free are futile. You freeze when you hear a familiar, raspy voice whisper in your ear.

"Don't worry, it's me. It's just me. Shhh… You're safe. It's me." You relax a little in his arms. You reach your hand up to his and remove it from your mouth. He loosens his grip enough for you to turn in his arms.

"Feyd." You sigh when you see his face. You throw your arms around him and nuzzle your face into his neck. You rest your chin on his shoulder and breathe in his scent as you hold onto him tightly.

You hear him breathe a sigh of relief as well. He places a kiss on the top of your head and hugs you tighter. After a moment, he pulls away from you—not too far away, only a bit—so he can look at your face and see if you have any injuries.

"You're getting out of here. Our men are hidden in every corridor of this hole. Take a few of them and go to the exit. They will take you to the ship. Wait for me there." He gently cups your cheeks in his hands and forces you to look into his eyes. Your heart beats faster as you recognise that concerned look in his eyes from your dream, mixed with anger. "Y/N. I mean it. I know you want to fight; you're brave and a great warrior, but do it for me and just go to that damn ship."

"No. Wait, listen to me. I have to tell you something..."

"You'll tell me you love me later, now you have to get out of here, so I can destroy this place." He interrupts you, gently pushing you towards the exit. You feel anger and frustration building within you as yet another person tries to control you and tell you what to do. No matter how sweet and protective Feyd is acting now, you are fed up with constantly obeying everyone around you.

"Stop!" You shout at him, making him stop in his tracks in shock. Under any other circumstances, you would laugh at the surprised look he gives you, but not now. "Do you trust me?" You ask, looking at him expectantly. You know you're asking a lot of him right now, but if you're going to change your future, you have to act now. And fast. Very fast.

"Y/N this isn't the best…"

"Do you trust me?!" You interrupt him, raising your voice. He must see the desperation and seriousness in your eyes because you see him swallow, considering the question you've asked him. You unconsciously hold your breath, waiting for him to respond.

You both know this isn't an ordinary question. It means something more. Admitting something you both had been avoiding since the first day your blades met in a little skirmish that earned you his sympathy. He had long admired you for your mind, intelligence, ingenuity, cunning, and natural charm. But could he trust you completely?

"I… I do. If I trust anyone, it's you. Only you."

You feel tears welling up in your eyes. You take a step towards him, cupping his cheek in your hand and kissing him. He tenses in surprise but kisses you back pretty quickly, moaning into your mouth as you express all the passion and desire you feel for him. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to him, wanting to feel your body against his to make sure this isn't some dream. You caress the skin of his neck, shuddering as an electric shiver runs through you as he deepens the kiss, taking everything you have to offer him.

Kissing Feyd always felt like it was the first kiss between the two of you. He kissed like he fought—with his whole being, not holding back, transmitting all his passion and desire. He didn't even know how much you needed to taste all of him right now. And how bittersweet that kiss was for you.

You reluctantly pull away from him and press your forehead against his. You close your eyes, letting out a shaky breath.

"I love you, Feyd. I have always loved you. And I was very afraid of it, but I'm not anymore... I... I don't want to be scared of this anymore." You admit it as a single tear falls from your eyes. He reaches to wipe it off, but you shake your head. His hand freezes, hanging between you as he stares at you in shock, trying to process what you said.

Just as he's about to open his mouth, probably to tell you the same thing, you lean in and kiss him again. Slower, more gentle. A few tears escape you, allowing you both to taste them through the kiss.

You reach for the sword attached to his waist with trembling hands.

"I'm so sorry. But it's not our time yet." You whisper, moving away from him just as Paul Atreides returns to the room. He slowly walks towards you, his sword dripping with black Harkonnen blood. And you decide that if anyone spills blood in this room, it will be you. It must be you.

So when Paul is about to approach you and stab Feyd in the back, you close your eyes and stab Feyd with his sword. You hear him let out a shaky breath as his black blood slowly seeps from the wound, staining your hands. You keep your other hand on his shoulder, supporting his weight as he slowly sinks to his knees in front of you. You try to ignore him, not look at him or in his eyes... you simply cannot. Instead, you stare at Atreides.

Paul is beyond shocked by your actions. He looks for a moment at Feyd's black sword, the tip sticking out of his back—proof of what you did. After a moment, his eyes meet yours. After a while, he approaches you, sheathes his sword, and smiles proudly.

"This will be the beginning of a wonderful alliance, Lady Y/N." He says this, offering you his hand, which you reach for. You shake them, glaring at each other, assessing each other's behaviour as a new agreement forms between you.

You smile, hiding your fear as best as you can and holding back tears when you see Feyd's unconscious body out of the corner of your eye. But you've come too far to change your mind. From now on, you decide your fate.

Only you.

To be continued...

Taglist: (I REALLLLY hope that everyone who wanted to be here is here...😅 I;m sorry if I missed someone <3) @skymoonandstardust @prettybubblesintheair @thegabbyh @himesuedi @wo-ming-bai @beebeechaos @mamawiggers1980 @moonsoulk @avidreader73 @heartarianagran @dreamlandcreations @ancientbeing10 @lovereadingfanfic @jeansjoie @workof-a-rr-t @aixicl @ladyredstar1991 @evangelineimagine @hobobobo-fett56 @happyant3 @marsflys @aaaaaamond @kamcrazy123 @k1swass @yum-yahgurt @tyns13 @oh-you-mean-me @menari @tyns13 @vaf24 @dacreshoney @emrennoll-blog @tian-monique @slightlypossessed @celestialadrift @lauramooij05 @flaps200 @chixnugg22 @aaaaaamond @marvelfangirl04 @sw33tsnow @emeraldsgirl @imyourbubblegumpop @tempt-ress @harkonnin @k1swass @alana4610 @cloudroomblog @lotus-888 @lowlyloved @spoolsofgreenspoolsofblack @w3ird11 @kythefangirl25 @hobobobo-fett56 @nj452896 @oneandonlybbygrl @noirecatt @iloved1lfs0 @mamawiggers1980 @lololfixu @barnes70stark @obsessedvibee @aaaaaamond @workof-a-rr-t

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irmawrites · 4 months ago

Text

Sleeping with the enemy | One-Shot

Summary: your father, Gwayne Hightower, had always told you to beware of Davos Blackwood, son of one of your grandfather's most ardent haters. But when you meet him at a party years after graduating college, you can't help but think he's not so bad after all.

Rating: Explicit [18+], MDNI.

Pairing: modern!Davos Blackwood x Hightower!Reader (appearance isn’t specified, everyone is 18+ in this)

TW: smut with a tiny bit of plot, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), p in v sex, praising kink, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, dom/sub undertones, afab reader, not proofread.

Words count: 4393

Author’s note: Hi, everyone! This is my first time posting here, and I have to admit I'm a bit intimidated ahaha like a lot of people, I fell in love with Davos Blackwood's in episode three and ABSOLUTELY had to write this idea that's been on my mind for a while now.

I should probably mention that English is not my mother tongue, so please excuse my grammar mistakes!

Davos Blackwood had a bad reputation in your neighborhood, that much was true.

The rumors about him had started when you were still in college, something about red liquid smeared on the mirror in the boys' bathroom. A silly prank involving fake blood and strange theatrics to scare off a younger classmate that had perhaps gone too far. It was your own cousin Aemond who had found the fake crime scene just after the culprit had left, still licking his red-stained fingers. It caused quite a stir at the time, and he hadn't been seen on campus for at least two weeks. It may have been fake blood or just a tasteless joke, it was still inevitable that action would have to be taken.

It was Aeron Bracken in particular who had helped make these bizarre stories popular. He told anyone who would listen that Davos Blackwood was a deranged, violent madman. It was no secret that the two young men didn't get along. But no one expected things to get as bad as they did. There had been rumors in the hallways and whispers in the cafeteria, but that wasn't all. His car had been vandalized and marked with insults on several occasions. Even Gwayne Hightower, your father, had warned you.

A real witch hunt.

As far as you knew, however, the main target had remained unaffected by the situation, even toying with those who provoked him. In a way, he almost seemed to enjoy the wild, mysterious aura that all this fuss gave him.

You, for one, had never really believed it. After all, he didn't look like a bad guy, with his big, green eyes and permanently disheveled black hair. He seemed a little strange to you, a little off, but not enough to be considered a clear danger. But your opinion didn't matter much.

Nothing had ever destined the two of you to spend time together. His parents' company only did business with Rhaenyra's, refusing any ties and especially any agreements with the Hightowers. His father seemed to harbor a fierce hatred and boundless distrust of your family, apparently fearing that Otto's overweening ambition would lead him to overturn the order of succession established by Viserys himself and install his own grandson as sole ruler of the company.

And in your world, your parents had a bit more say in who you dated than they did for other people. You couldn't just go out with a guy because he seemed interesting, especially if he was the son of one of your grandfather's most ardent haters.

So you'd never spoken to each other in college, let alone at the lavish charity galas your family hosted.

Never, until that day.

"You like Iron Maiden?" a hoarse, unfamiliar voice said from behind you as you wrung the water out of your hair, "or is that your boyfriend's shirt?". The sun was high in the sky and you could feel the heat of its rays burning your exposed neck. The clear waters of the Targaryen family pool sparkled, and the garden echoed with the bursts of voices of those Aegon had invited to what should have been a casual gathering of the younger generation with ties to the Targaryen business.

You didn't think he'd invite Davos Blackwood, though.

"It's mine," you replied, giving the young man a mischievous smile, your fingers playing absentmindedly with the string that held the bottom of your swimsuit to your hip, "and yeah, it's one of my favorite bands actually." He seemed to take a moment to assess the situation, his eyes roaming up and down your body, an unreadable smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Never pegged you as a little rebel," he crossed his arms over his chest before continuing, "more of a model daughter." You knew he was toying with you, trying to tease you, but you were more than happy to play along.

Besides, you understood where the thought came from, you who were usually more used to short skirts and high heels than band shirts.

Mentally, you thanked Aegon for thinking of him. "Be careful, Blackwood," your voice sounded like a playful threat, "you might be surprised."

You were about to leave to return to the deck chairs, but it seemed that Davos wasn't quite finished with the conversation. "Wait," he ordered, taking your wrist between his broad fingers. Mechanically, you glanced around to make sure no one was watching. After all, the last thing you wanted was for someone to spy on your conversation with someone who still belonged to your grandfather's enemy side. "What is it?" it was your turn to cross your arms over your chest, your eyebrows furrowing as you waited for some kind of justification from him. It was clear he had something on his mind, but you just couldn't figure out what. "Do you want to come over to my place sometime?" he finally said, and you felt your breath catch somewhere between your throat and your lungs. "Why?" the question crossed your lips before you could even think about it.

You didn't know each other, had never spoken before, not to mention the fact that your families didn't approve of each other. You were tempted to agree, of course, because whether you liked it or not, you felt this kind of almost magnetic attraction pulling you together.

You'd have liked to think it was fate, but you knew it was just your love of danger and the forbidden.

His voice pulled you out of your thoughts again. "You seem like a pretty nice girl, and we obviously have the same taste in music," he replied, finally loosening his grip on your wrist, "we could watch a movie, get to know each other, something like that." The offer was tempting, the prospect of spending a little more time with him appealing, but even though you desperately wanted to say yes, you knew you couldn't. You had to be reasonable and listen to that little voice in your head that told you it all sounded like a terrible idea. But he seemed to sense your reluctance because he quickly added, "Don't worry, no one will know."

***

Davos’ room wasn't exactly what you'd call tidy. You noticed a half-full ashtray on the windowsill and a few empty cans on his desk. It was the opposite of your own bedroom, neatly decorated and perfectly organized. Your wardrobe drawers were a bit of an exception, but that didn't really matter.

Even so, you couldn't help but find it a little charming. The smell of his cologne in the air, the half-unraveled sheets, this was unmistakably him. It tasted risky and illicit, and it stirred something unfamiliar in the pit of your stomach. A reaction that no boy had ever managed to provoke in you.

"There's no denying it, vampires really are the best supernatural creatures," you muttered, sinking your teeth into the last slice of the half-cold pizza you'd ordered earlier. You were especially comfortable sitting cross-legged on his bed as the rain pounded against the windows and the end of the movie drew near on his computer screen. His parents were out of town for the week, on a business trip or something, providing you with an opportunity to finally meet away from prying eyes. He seemed quite comfortable too, with his leg pressed against yours and his hand wrapped around his soda cup, which he sipped absentmindedly. "I have to say, I never thought you'd be into movies like this," he told you after a few long seconds, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips, "given your looks, I thought you'd be more into romantic comedies or something." You held back an annoyed sigh.

"Like I said..." you finally replied, "you should beware of appearances."

They can be misleading sometimes, you kept to yourself.

It was true that you were usually a sweet, sensible girl, the ideal daughter who always smiled and never caused trouble. The pride and joy of your parents. But lately you had grown tired. Tired of following orders, of doing everything you were told without ever being able to listen to your heart. You were eager to get rid of this constant fear of disappointing your loved ones if you didn't live up to their expectations, and it seemed that life had given you the perfect opportunity to free yourself from all that.

"Is there something I should know?" the young man’s hand came to rest on the top of your thigh, his thumb delicately stroking the soft skin there, "some dark secret of yours, princess?". His almost mocking tone and the annoying nickname were enough to bring back that scorching heat in the pit of your stomach. The way he looked at you, at your breasts, made you think that he was affected by this sudden closeness, too. His gaze burned, almost as much as his fingers, which were now creeping dangerously up the hem of your shorts. And when you felt them graze the lace of your underwear in the hollow where your leg and hip met, you thought that maybe, just maybe, you'd bitten off more than you could chew.

But even though you were entering unfamiliar territory, something foreign to you, you refused to lose control and let him take what he wanted without saying a word. This wasn't your style. You always had a witty comeback ready to go. And you were going to show him.

Slowly, you moved forward a few inches on the bed to sit astride his very inviting lap, never taking your eyes off his lips. Your hands found his shoulders, and you could feel the hardness of his desire beneath your thighs. Gods, the sensation was divine. This was your doing. You and no one else’s. The sudden surge of power and dominance made your head spin. "Be very careful what you do now," his fingers settled on your hips to bring your chests a little closer together, his grip tight and bruising. "Or what?" you replied in an almost insolent, even provocative tone.

"Or we could end up doing something you might regret."

This was all a very bad idea, that much was true. Davos Blackwood was a very bad idea. But you didn't want to dwell on what the future might hold, let alone the potential consequences of your actions. All you knew was that you wanted more. More of his hands on your skin, more of his lips on yours, and more of him.

And it seemed that he, too, was eager to take it further.

His fingers made their way up from your waist to your chest, slipping under your tank top to brush his thumbs over the two little hardened buds. The ghost of a touch, really, but it was enough to make you moan. Your mouths were now just a few inches apart, your breaths mingling, but you didn't want to kiss him yet, choosing to prolong this delicious, exhilarating tension for a few minutes longer.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?" he asked, his voice hoarse with desire. "Do you feel it?". He backed up his words with action, rolling his hips and planting a kiss right at the corner of your jaw. "You know what this is?" he added, rolling one of your nipples between his index finger and thumb, "what happens to a man when a woman behaves the way you do?". Of course I know, you wanted to say but the words stuck in your throat and only a moan managed to break through the barrier of your lips. You weren't stupid, you were perfectly aware of what happened in this kind of situation. But you'd never seen it, let alone touched it, and the theory was very different from the actual reality.

"Shut up," you replied at last, before planting a kiss on his lips. You didn't mean it, though. To be honest, you wished he would talk to you like that all night long, sending a wave of heat straight to your core with words alone. His tongue found yours, silencing your thoughts, and you wrapped your arms around his neck to keep from losing your footing. "Such a foul mouth," he said, smiling against your lips as he gave you time to breathe, "we'll see if you're still so talkative once I'm done with you."

The young man's hands found the bottom of your tank top and pulled it over your head, and soon it was your shorts that suffered the same fate, leaving you in nothing but your black lace panties. You suddenly felt exposed, lying there under that hungry gaze that regarded you like a precious gift, a prized possession. You waited eagerly for his next move.

Where was the bold young woman who had taken the lead just a few minutes earlier, the one so determined not to lose control? It seemed like she'd already vanished, replaced by some shy creature beneath his crude words and inappropriate touch.

"What are you going to do to me?" you tilted your head to the side to give him better access to the skin of your neck, which he was kissing with increasing fervor. "Nothing you won't like," he replied as he stood up to get rid of his t-shirt, which joined the pile of clothes at the foot of the bed. Your eyes couldn't help but wander over his toned torso dotted with dark hairs, your hands itching to touch him.

Soon enough, his lips found your jaw, then your neck, then the top of your chest, and you immediately shivered. The weight of his body lying on yours was delightful, comforting. "Please..." you whimpered as your hands settled on his shoulders, urging him to give you what you were so desperate for. You felt his fingers slide slowly against the skin of your belly, then lower, much lower, to play with the lace of your underwear, and your back arched almost reflexively. You wanted more, you needed more, and you were getting tired of waiting.

"Be patient, princess," he said, nibbling on the soft skin of your breast, his mouth soon wrapping around your hardened nipple. A grunt escaped you, and you weren't quite sure if it was from your frustration or the dominant tone he had just used. His hand slipped under the fabric of your panties to tease the top of your slit before brushing over your already soaked folds. It was annoying, really, the effect he was having on you with such a light touch. But it was heavenly, and you had decided to ignore the voice of reason for the night.

His index finger found the little pearl nestled at the apex of your center, and the contact felt like a delicious electric shock. You threw your head back, eyes closing, lips parting in a silent cry as he drew little circles around your most sensitive area. "Have you ever had anyone here?" he asked after a few seconds. When you didn't answer, he added: "I asked you a question, and I want you to answer me." There it was again, his commanding, almost controlling tone.

"N... no," you stammered as you opened your eyes again to meet his, "nobody." You suddenly felt like prey under his hungry gaze that devoured your trembling body. "Perfect," you heard, just before his fingers found your entrance, which was already clenching around nothing, "and here?".

The idea of being the first to enter you seemed to obsess him.

You nodded, this time from left to right, signifying that no, you had saved your virginity for the right man, the one who would know how to make you tremble under his ministrations, the one who would know how to make you beg for more, always more.

"Perfect," he repeated again, as the first knuckle of his index finger sank agonizingly slowly into you, teasing your inner walls. It was barely there, nothing really, and yet you already felt incredibly full. "You're so tight," he growled against the skin of your throat, "so warm too, you're going to feel amazing around me." He added a second knuckle and soon his finger was completely buried inside you. It felt good, and it felt right, but it didn't feel like enough. You wiggled your hips and it seemed as if Davos had understood your silent request immediately. "I need you to take another," he straightened on his left elbow to look at you with lust-blown pupils, "do you think you can do that for me?". Once again, you nodded your head in agreement, but this time it didn't seem to be enough for him. "Use your words, princess." You fought the urge to roll your eyes. "I... I can take more," you murmured right against his lips as you looked down between your thighs.

"Good girl," he said, his voice low and rough as you felt his middle finger pressing into you. He curled them both, brushing that spongy spot against your inner wall, and you threw your head back.

You dug your nails into his pale skin to stay anchored in the present as his thumb found your clit. But you knew you wouldn't last long. You could already feel tingles of pleasure buzzing through your body, and in the pit of your belly, the fires of delight burned a little more fiercely. You wanted to warn him, to tell him you were close, but he was quicker than you: "Come for me."

He didn't need to tell you a second time.

Soon, the wave of your orgasm washed over you.

It made your whole body shake with spasms, your climax exploding like fireworks behind your eyelids. Your lips crashed against his neck to stifle your final moan as your back arched under the intense sensation. The young man was merciful enough to give you a few seconds to recover before withdrawing his fingers, leaving you empty and frustrated. "Look at the mess you made," you heard him groan, "clean it up." His index and middle fingers brushed across your lips, which parted eagerly to welcome them into your warm mouth.

You timidly wrapped your tongue around them under his predatory gaze. The mere thought that you could taste yourself on your taste buds set your body on fire once again. It was indecent, inappropriate, and you probably should have been ashamed to be used like this, but you couldn't care less.

Maybe it was his fault, or maybe you'd just found each other despite everything that kept you apart.

His fingers left your mouth to wrap around your neck. But as he lay back on the mattress and guided you towards his lips, you resisted. Once again, you straddled his hips, only this time completely naked. He looked at you for a few seconds, a little confused, until you reached under the elastic of his underwear to slide it down his legs. This seemed to make him realize the extent of your intentions. His hard member jumped free and caught your eye. Standing proud with a mass of dark curls adorning its base, the sight alone made you salivate. "Let me thank you," you said, as your fingers gently traced its length. "I want to make you feel good too." You slowly moved between his legs to kiss his inner thighs.

You reached out tentatively and wrapped your fingers around his manhood. It felt heavy in your hand, massive and your index finger couldn't quite touch your thumb because it was so wide. You brought your lips to his crotch and, watching Davos from beneath your long lashes, planted a quick kiss on the head where it was already weeping for you. Your tongue traced a vein on the underside without ever breaking eye contact. He threw his head back, his lips parted to let out a muffled curse.

The rush of power you felt when you saw him so vulnerable under your touch was sinfully delicious.

You tilted your head to the side to plant a series of kisses all along his hardened manhood, your big innocent eyes still locked with his. There was a pause, a few tense seconds, before finally, finally, you moved your head forward to take him fully into your mouth. His big hand found refuge at the back of your skull, and you let him guide you completely.

The grip on your hair tightened, almost to the point of pain. "Breathe, through your nose," the young man ordered, but his voice was more urgent than before, his breathing becoming ragged from the growing pleasure. "You can do better than that." The fingers buried in your locks soon forced you to swallow him whole, your nose pressed against his pelvis, the unruly hair tickling your face. You could feel yourself drooling around him, the action messy. "Such a filthy girl," he said as his thumb came to caress the corner of your mouth, right where his member disappeared between your lips, "sucking my cock like a real whore." You let out an audible moan around his length in response to the foulness of his words.

But instead of disgusting you, it only served to encourage you.

You hollowed out your cheeks, still following the rhythm of his hand, which had resumed its place at the back of your head. He was big, and he filled your mouth in a way you hadn't experienced before, but you wanted to prove to him that you could satisfy him, that you could make him proud. Tears formed at the corners of your eyes, which he hastily wiped away with the tip of his free thumb. "Shh... you're doing so well," he praised you in a reassuring tone. You knew he was close to reaching his climax. His breathing had become labored, his movements erratic, and it was evident that you were causing him to lose his balance. But it seemed he didn't want to end it that quickly.

"Wait, not yet," he straightened into a sitting position, placing his hand on your cheek to force you back a few inches, "I'd hate to waste it." The implication made your cheeks flush, but you couldn't help but look forward to what would come next.

His hands came to rest on your waist, encouraging you to sit on his hips again, this time making his still impossibly hard manhood brush against your soaked cunt. The contact alone was enough to elicit a moan from you. His own fingers wrapped around his member as he guided it towards your narrow entrance.

And after what felt like an eternity, he finally thrust into you.

He stretched you to perfection, the foreign sensation a mixture of delicious pain and aching pleasure. "Fuck princess, you're tight," your head found refuge in the hollow of his neck, but you could hear that annoying smirk in his voice, "I'm going to ruin you." And oh how you couldn't wait for him to make good on his threats. "Move," you pleaded against the skin of his throat as you hesitantly moved your hips up and down to get that delicious friction you craved. He seemed hell-bent on teaching you self-restraint, even though you desperately wanted to see him lose control. He grabbed your waist in a firm grip, keeping you pressed against his hips and making you whine. "Did I say you could move?" he asked, kissing the side of your jaw. Once again that night, you'd annoyed him by not answering, and he repeated, "did I say you could move?".

It seems he was also trying to make you learn obedience, in addition to patience.

You didn't even have a chance to react before the young man used his grip on your waist to pull back almost completely, revealing his member glistening with your sticky juices before thrusting himself into you once more. His head was rubbing against that most delicious spot inside you, making your legs tremble with pure bliss. "Please, I..." You didn't even know what you were asking for as he moved back and forth continuously. You thought he'd ask you to speak again, but he was too caught up in pleasure and close to his release to be bothered by your pleas.

But even if he'd lost his rhythm, it was clear he was still determined to satisfy you. His thumb was back on your little pearl, tracing small circles around it, while inside you his length relentlessly pounded against your inner wall. You could feel yourself clenching around him, and the heat between your thighs was back with a fiercer intensity than ever. “I’m going to fill you up,” his teeth nibbled at the soft skin of your neck, marking it possessively, “I’m going to fill you up and you’re going to take everything I’m going to give you, feel me for days.” The moans that came out of your mouth were now completely incoherent, a confused jumble of yes and please.

Your climax hit hard and fast—stronger than the one Davos had offered you earlier that night. You dug your nails into his shoulders, leaving red half-moons as evidence of your forbidden actions. Your back arched off the mattress, pressing his body against yours as reality slipped through your fingers and a myriad of stars danced behind your eyelids. He followed you just a few seconds later, pouring into you with white ropes.

He stayed inside you for a few more moments, his length softening. But neither of you felt like moving, not when you were so comfortable, lying against each other, your limbs tangled. He placed a tender kiss on your forehead that made your heart clench. You still refused to think about the future and the problems that might arise from such a strong connection between the two of you. All that mattered for the moment was his skin against yours and your fingers in his hair.

"We should do that again," you murmured as you kissed his cheeks, his chin, his nose, "someday."

He smiled.

"We will," he said with confidence, "I'll make sure of that, princess."

The nickname made your stomach flutter with excitement.

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phoward89 · 6 months ago

Text

Based on this ask

Masterlist

Stepcest, Stepson!Coryo x Stepmother!Reader, Sub!Coriolanus, Soft!Dom!Reader

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is a warning in and of itself. Crassus Snow is a cold hearted asshole. Smut (p in v), Stepcest, Cuckold, older man/younger woman, arranged marriage, cheating, affairs, mommy kink, breeding kink, Sub!Coryo, Soft!Dom!Reader, pregnancy

Part 1:

You were absolutely livid when your mother brokered a marriage contract for you. A marriage between you and General Crassus Snow. Oh gods, how you wanted to puke. He was so much older than you. Like he's a man that's at least 50 if not 60. He's at least a good 30 years older than you.

Just the thought makes you want to cringe. And when you called your brother, Rein, to plead for his help he refused. He's an officer in the peacekeepers based in 12 and he didn't want to ruin his future by getting on the bad side of General Snow. Especially since Commander Hoff highly respected General Snow, who had been the commander in District 12 before he took it over.

So without a way out of your marriage, you're stuck with General Snow. Or Crassus as the cold, sinister old fuck insists you call him once you're moved into the grand penthouse he shares with his mother, Grandma'am, and his son, Coriolanus.

The name sounded familiar to you, but you just shoved the notion away. It's not like his son, who was in his last year at the University, was home much to worry about him. Or at least that's what Crassus said.

So one night while sitting in the main room with Grandma'am and Crassus, who was so cold and hard-hearted that it scared you, you're surprised to see Coriolanus Snow, your soon to be step-son, walk into the room. You also weren't expecting him to be so handsome. Coriolanus was a younger and more attractive version of his father, Crassus. Also, his eyes weren't dead and hateful. Yes, Coriolanus had the shame icy blue eyes that his father had, but his still had a soul shining in them. That much you could see.

Coriolanus' brow rose as he saw you sitting with his Grandma'am and across from his father, who’s nursing a Scotch on the rocks while waiting for dinner to be served, whenever he enters the main room of the penthouse he's been avoiding ever since Tigris moved out into her own place a few months earlier. Coriolanus doesn't remember your name, but he remembers your face from the Academy. You're his age, maybe even a year or so younger, if he remembers correctly.

“Father, you seriously can't be marrying her. She's too young for you.”

“She is a tad bit young, isn't she?” Crassus mockingly asked his son. Looking between you and his spitting image, the cruel General sickly smirks, “But Y/N reminds me so much of your mother at that age. And I’d be a fool to turn down a young, beautiful, wet, tight cunt to give me the heir I deserve.”

“Crassus…” Grandma'am chastised her soulless son, earning her a sharp glare from him.

“Mother, I advise you to stop taking up for the useless boy. My son's weak, always was and always will be.”

But from your point of view there wasn't anything weak about Coriolanus. Nope. Not one bit. He was tall with broad shoulders, a tapered waist, a chiseled jawline, a prominent nose, and large hands that looked both strong and gentle at the same time. He looked like he was carved from the images of the ancient gods themselves

Your wedding wasn't a high end affair. It was modest, but classy. Only the elite were invited. Even your older brother, Rein, was able to get leave to attend your wedding. His girl from District 12 wasn't allowed to come. You thought your brother was a piece of shit for not fighting harder to bring her or for coming without her, but he snapped right back that he couldn't risk his future for some coal dust covered pussy. That your new husband could open doors for him and his career.

And when your reception got to be too much, you found yourself on the terrace of the fancy hotel/ballroom your wedding was being held at. Your life was over before it truly begun.

“You're going to get that dress of yours dirty sitting on the patio like that.” Coriolanus’ deep, elegant timbre sounded out from right behind you.

Looking over your shoulder at the tall young man with striking blue eyes, which held concern in them, and platinum blonde curls, you sigh, “I don't care, Coriolanus.”

“Well, you should care. Tigris worked hard on your dress.” He retorted, coming up to your side and taking a seat next to you. Pulling silver cigarette case and matching lighter out of his blazer pocket, Coriolanus stated, “You feel like your life's over being ball and chained to the hateful old goat, huh?”

“He's your father, Coriolanus. You shouldn't call him a hateful old goat.” You chastised your new, but handsome, stepson with a melancholic tone in your voice.

Oh, why couldn't your mother have brokered an arranged marriage with the Snow son. You'd much rather be married to Coriolanus than Crassus.

“He's my father, so I can call him a hateful old goat.” Coriolanus replied, cigarette dangling between his lips, as he lit up his smoke. Putting his case and lighter back into his pocket, only to take his first drag of his smoke, he sincerely told you, “You don't deserve to be married to such a cruel man. You're too young and beautiful to be wasted on the likes of him.”

You didn't say a word, just gave him a curious look. A look which caused him to give you a thin line of a smile before offering to share his smoke with you- to help calm nerves.

And that was the beginning of something for forbidden between you and Coriolanus.

For all his big talk, Crassus was useless in bed. He, for a lack of a better word, couldn't get his dick up. He even chewed on the special blue pill, but sometimes that didn't even work. And all you were was a warm, tight hole- a fleshlight for him to fuck and rut into. You got no pleasure out of fucking him.

Before or after you said I do.

But you did find pleasure somewhere else. In the arms of your stepson, in fact. As sick and twisted as it sounds, you found solace in fucking Coriolanus. Coryo, as he insisted you call him once you started fucking around behind his father's back.

Although it's taboo in the eyes of society, hell the nation of Panem, it feels right. You and Coryo are of similar age, find each other very attractive, and get along well. Despite what you two have being considered wrong, being stepcest, neither one of you’s going to end your affair.

An affair that's happening in the Snow family penthouse right underneath General Snow's nose. But he's not bright enough to figure it out.

No…

“Fuck…” Coryo groaned, his long fingers digging into your hip bone as you rode his cock. “Mommy, your pussy feels so good…” He nearly pants, kneading your breast with his large hand as he felt your cunt squeeze his cock.

“Your big cock feels so good too, baby.” You whine, bringing your hand to rest on top of Coryo's large one that's on your hip while using your other one to balance yourself by resting your palm on your stepson’s firm chest. “So good.” You sigh, lifting yourself up and quickly sinking down onto the girthy 8 inches that's deliciously stretching out your cunt.

The platinum blonde, whose curls are like a halo around his head, gives you a lustful look with his cerulean eyes. “Mommy, I wanna suck your titties.” He whines, baritone husky, but submissive.

Yes, Coriolanus Snow, the son of the almighty General Crassus Snow, was a sub in bed. A sub with a mommy kink. It was something you discovered the first time he fucked you and, although it stunned you to discover that someone so tall, large, and manly in every sense of the word was not dominant at all between the sheets and wanted ‘mommy’ to boss him around, you didn't shame him for it. Instead, you embraced his kink. Your situation’s already twisted, might as well add in the Dom/Sub mommy kink element to it too.

Coryo felt safe enough with you to share his desires, kinks, and fantasies. Unknown to everyone, his confidence and bravado was a well worn mask and underneath it he's just an insecure boy. But with you, well, he's able to feel needed and like he matters.

And him sharing his mommy kink with you gives you a sense of control in your otherwise uncontrollable life. Being dominant in bed helps you deal with your life as much as it helps Coriolanus deal with his.

You and Coryo have a safe word in play in case he can't handle something, but so far he's never used it. Truth be told, you're a bit of a soft dom to him. But he enjoys it. He enjoys anything you give him.

Grabbing his platinum blonde curls in your hands, you roughly pulled Coryo up towards your breasts. “Then suck on mommy’s titties, baby.” You order, causing him to latch his lips onto your nipple.

Your back arched from the feelings Coryo was coaxing from your body. The feeling of his large cock hitting the special spongy spot deep inside of you every time you spear yourself down onto him paired with the feeling of his wet tongue swirling around your nipple had you feeling euphoric. Coryo was blessed with a magical tongue. Whether it was kissing, eating your cunt, or sucking your nipples, his wet muscle always made you pant and quiver.

You literally begin to quickly bounce up and down of Coryo's cock, causing the mattress springs to loudly creak in the dead of the night, as you desperately chase your high. Coryo bites your nipples, only to soothingly run his tongue over the stinging rose bud. Your nipple falls from his mouth with a loud, wet pop.

“Mommy, please, I wanna cum…” The platinum haired angelish devil of a boy beneath you begs as his hips desperately buck up. He's beginning to feel his release build up and he wants permission to cum.

Permission you won't give him, because you have to cum first.

“Not yet, Coryo. Mommy has to cum first.”

“But, please Mommy. I need to cum so bad.” He whinily begs, eyes pathetically looking up at you while his chin's perched in your cleavage, causing his head to bounce up and down with every movement you make.

“I said no, Coryo. Now be a good boy and stop begging; take what you're getting.” You sharply snap, all the while rocking your hips as you straddle his dick.

“But mommy-” Coryo began to whine, once again, only for you to shut him up by wrapping your hand around his throat and roughly pushing him back down into the mattress.

His icy blue eyes were blown as dark as midnight with lust as you choked his neck, not hard enough to cut off his breathing, but just enough to punish his bratty behavior as a sub.

“Don't be a selfish brat, Coryo. You know mommy cums first.” You tell him in a tight tone, that's a bit rougher than usual, as you continue to fuck yourself on his large cock as he lays on the bed- a look of pure pleasure spread across his face.

You continue to hold him down by the neck as your tight, wet cunt clenched around his large, veiny cock, causing Coryo's to whimper and whine with the desperation to cum. Oh, the feeling of your warm, wet, pussy around his aching cock’s too much. Too much to handle and he just has to cum.

Coryo feels like your motions and movements have been nothing but teasing; have done nothing, but rile him up and make him feel like he's going to explode any minute with both madness and pleasure.

“Please, mommy, I need to cum. Don't make me hold back anymore.” The almighty Coriolanus began to cry as he struggled to hold back his orgasm as you rode his cock harder and faster than before.

Your hand was still wrapped around his throat and that didn't help matters out, since it was a turn on for him- seeing your blood red nails wrapped around his pale throat and lightly resting on his windpipe. His hips bucked up frantically and he panted as he attempted to rebel and chasing his high. But you needed to cum first, it was one of the rules established between you and Coryo for the Dom/Sub play. Despite how desperate Coryo seemed, you had to cum first and you had to give him orders to help you get there.

“Rub mommy’s clit, baby boy. If you really want to cum, rub mommy's clit just the way you know she likes it.” You order your lover, holding back a moan as you feel his tip hit your cervix just right.”

Coriolanus quickly nodded his head, causing his sweaty platinum curls to rustle against his pillow, before bringing his hand to where the two of you’re connected, only to run fast and hard circles into your clit.

“Let me cum in your cunt, tonight. Please, mommy, let me knock you up.” Coryo told you, his voice thick with lust a bit softer than usual.

Your breath hitched as you felt both the weight of his words and the intense pressure of your upcoming release hit you. All you could do was shake your head and half-moan, “You can't, Coryo. I’m married…” Even tho you didn't say the words to your father, they hung in the air like a heavy cloud.

“But don't you want a baby, mommy?” Coryo asks, the hand that was on your hip gliding over to your lower stomach. Slowly stroking your lower belly while pressing quick and sloppy circles into your swollen clit, the platinum blonde below you says, “Let me give you a baby. Please, mommy, nobody has to know it's mine.”

“Coryo…” You gasp, feeling the right know of pleasure inside of you getting ready to unravel.

“You'll look so beautiful, full of my seed. Oh, mommy, please, let me knock you up tonight.” Coryo pleaded his case once more as he lay beneath you, at your mercy since he's your sub.

If you say no and got off of him after you cum then he'll have no choice, but to cum on his stomach (which is what the agreement’s been between you two since your affair started). But if you take pity on him and agree to letting him cum inside of your pussy, to fill your womb with his seed, then he'll be the happiest man in the world.

Coryo feels your cunt clamp around his cock and he knows you're about to cum. He's getting his teeth, holding back his own release, as your movements above him grow more frantic. “Please, mommy, let me give you the one thing that hateful old goat can't. Let me give you a baby.”

You're too far gone down the rabbit hole by this point in your life to say no. You're already fucking your stepson in an illicit affair, might has well have a baby too. Nobody’ll know. It'll be a dirty little secret between you and Coryo.

“Yes, yes, Coryo.” You moan out as you cum hard around Coriolanus’ dick. “Cum in mommy’s cunt; knock me up.” You breathlessly order as your juices messily run down your thighs and onto his.

Your hand that's wrapped around Coryo's remains there as he thrusts his hips up one, two, three times. You gently run your thumb over his Adam's apple as you feel him shoot ropes of his thick, hot seed deep into your womb.

Leaning your face down, you whisper against Coryo's lush lips, “You're mommy’s good baby boy, Coryo.”, before kissing him.

Coryo whimpered into the kiss before needily pressing his lips against yours. He could never get enough of your lips on his. He craves your kisses like a parched man craves water.

“I do love being your good baby boy.” Coryo tells you, his breath a mere whisper against your lips, as he breaks off your kiss to let you catch your breath.

Coryo's softness in your sex life is something that you greatly appreciate. Especially since your husband's so rough when he does manage to get his dick up long enough to do something. Coriolanus being soft in bed, but cunning and calculating out in the world with his studies at the University and his social affairs just shows you how versatile your lover is.

Oh, why couldn't he be your husband?

“Will you stay with me tonight, darling?” Coriolanus asks as you gingerly get off of him and take the empty spot on the mattress next to him.

Shaking your head, you sadly sigh, “You know I can't, even tho I want to.”

“One day we'll be able to be together, my love. You'll see.” He sadly smiles, pulling you to cuddle with him for just a few moments.

Moments that are very precious to both of you.

A month later when you miss your period, you just know that you're pregnant. And when you go to the doctor to confirm your suspicions, you're given both a blood and urinary test. And the results for both are positive.

It's easy to make your husband, Crassus, believe that the baby's his since you drug him with sleeping pills whenever you fuck your lover, Coriolanus. And you know without a doubt that the baby belongs to Coriolanus since when you're stuck fucking Crassus it ends as soon as it begins due to his little blue pill problem.

Grandma'am’s shocked to hear that she's going to have another grandbaby. In fact, she made a remark about how she always thought she'd become a great-grandmother instead of a grandmother again. That remark had Coriolanus' smirking.

Tigris, your neice-in-law, congratulated you when she heard the news, but the look on her face was anything but happy. In fact, she looked a bit worried for you.

Crassus didn't seem overjoyed about your pregnancy. No, he just acted like it was your duty to give him a child. He even made a remark about how the baby better be a son or else he’ll hide it away somewhere- give it up. That remark made Coriolanus mad. He literally got into a fight with his father over it.

Thank the gods, the doctor told you that the baby's a boy. So you don't have to worry about Crassus taking the baby away from you. But you know deep down in your heart of hearts that Coryo would never let his evil old bastard of a father do that to your baby.

To Coriolanus’ baby.

Grandma'am seemed happy to be having another grandson and told you all about how she named her sons, Crassus Xanthos and Cadmus Xanthos, and how the traditional of the male Snow heirs having the initials CXS has been implemented by your husband, Crassus, whenever he named his own son Coriolanus Xerxes Snow. Of course, you assured your mother-in-law that your baby would have a name worthy of a Snow.

Crassus didn't seem to care about the pregnancy or discussing baby names. He just told you that you better fulfill your duty of birthing him a healthy son. He also told you to figure out a name for the baby; that he's too busy as the Minister of National Security to worry about such things.

And since it's your job to figure out a name, you decided to enlist some help from Coryo.

“Do you want me to name the baby? I know he doesn't care about you or what you name our son, but I care.” Coryo tells you one night as you cuddle with him in bed. He's got a protective hand over your belly, always taking his role in it's life very seriously.

The ‘he’ Coriolanus refers to is his father; your husband, Crassus. Neither one of you use his name anymore. It's easier to talk about him, deal with him and his communist rule over the Snow family that way. And right now he's out stone cold in the bed your suppose to share with him since you spiked his nightcap with sleeping pills. It's something you've been doing a lot lately in order to spend more time with Coryo.

“You want to name the baby?” You ask, tears of joy welling up in your eyes.

Coryo smiles, only to say, “He's my son, of course I want to name him.”

“Then you can name him.” You tell the platinum blonde with the halo of curls, giving him a soft smile before resting your head on his shoulder.

“I have the perfect name in mind, mommy.” Coryo kisses your head, his timbre a soft rasp, as he gently strokes your belly. He flinches slightly as he feels the baby kick against his hand. “He kicked me, Y/N.” Coryo smiled in awe, his baby blues shining with pride.

“He’s saying ‘hello daddy’.” You tell your lover, causing him to smile and tell you the name he wants to give your son.

Crassus was too busy working to be bothered by the birth of the newest Snow heir. Coryo on the other hand missed his University classes to be by your side while you gave birth. He held your hand and whispered reassuring words to you through your entire labor.

Since your husband wasn't around, your stepson was given the honor of cutting the cord. The doctor and the nurses didn't say a word, but they did share some looks that implied they thought something fishy was going on between you and Coriolanus.

After everything’s said and done, Crassus comes to visit you and the baby in your hospital room. You're resting in your bed and Coryo's sitting by your bedside with your newborn son in his arms.

“I see you're still alive.” Is how Crassus greets you. A greeting that earned him a cold, narrow eyes look from Coriolanus.

“Yes, Crassus.” You nod. “I'm still alive.”

Looking at his son's, one nearing the end of his University career and the other a few hours old, Crassus makes the observation of, “Coriolanus, I see your bonding with your baby brother.”

A smirk appears on Coryo's otherwise stoic face as he tells his hateful father, “I love him as if he was my own.” Looking between you and Crassus, Coryo adds in, “Mommy let me help her name him.”

Crassus raised a brow, giving his eldest an odd look. The old man couldn't help, but wonder when Coriolanus started to call you mommy. Maybe he'll ask his mother, Grandma'am, about it. Surely she'd know more about the milestones you and his son are making them he does. He is, after all, working to make the nation of Panem a place of order, a place where the Capitol shines and the Districts are kept under an iron thumb.

Looking down at the bundle of joy held lovingly and protectively in his arms, a baby boy with wisps of whitish blonde hair and big bright icy blue eyes, Coriolanus reveals the name of the newest Snow heir to his father.

“Cassian Xandros.”

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress

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alchemistc · 9 days ago

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Tommy had a younger sister. Eight years apart, Tommy knows intimately what it's like to be the main caretaker to a little girl with a dead mom and a shitty dad.

He'll give the Buckley parents props for at least trying, later on down the line. He hasn't spoken to his dad in years. But he sees the look Maddie gets sometimes, the quiet little corner she retreats to when the Saturday Night title fight is Evan v Margaret and Phillip, and he knows that space, the cavernous echo: could I have done more? and this was never supposed to be my job and will I make this worse or better if I intervene? what raw nerves will I expose if I cut open my wrists to fertilize this soil?

They were good at hiding it, for a while. Evan on his okayest behavior, Margaret and Phillip refusing to rise to any bait like the polite suburban family they were - the kind that would move their grieving child across state lines and force her to keep a secret for decades so that she could never move on from it.

(He's been angry for Evan for years, now, but he's been angry for Maddie too, for himself, for the fucked up things you can never quite prepare for the people that gave you life do to you.)

He had a sister.

And she was bright, and beautiful, and full of laughter and love even when Dad couldn't be fucked to sign her permission slips (Tommy can still forge his father's signature, has it down more precisely than even his own) or buy her a new pair of shoes when the soles broke free and they pinched her toes in tight.

He had a sister. She'd been pissed at him, ten years old and landing brutal kicks to his shins the day before he left for training. She'd been pissed at him, sixteen and quietly sullen over the phone when he told her he was staying in LA. She'd been pissed at him, twenty-two and rudderless while he let her crash on his couch for six months in the shoe-box loft he'd called home.

And she'd loved him. God, she'd loved him. Idolized him: learned football and baseball just to be able to talk to him about the few interests he'd had that his father hadn't dismissed out of hand; always at his hip when he slapped together Kraft Mac and Cheese for dinner and snuck her lunch money at the end of the week when the groceries had dwindled.

He hasn't talked to his sister in years, either.

Maddie tucks herself into the space to his right, glances out over the lawn where Tommy has been sneaking the third cigarette he's allowed himself in the last ten years. She shifts her weight, watches the cherry bloom in the low dusk light. "You gonna share?"

Tommy tips his head to look at her. Digs into his chest pocket for the Reds he'd bought two days before the Buckley parents descended on LA for the wedding.

Maddie's an old pro, apparently, fingers comfortably slack as she lifts the offering to her mouth, glances at him for a light.

The lighter is ancient, still has a snippet of his grandfather's favorite poem etched into the sidewall, though it's worn down and hard to read. The metallic clink of opening and closing the lid, spark igniting on butane with a flick of his thumb, had gotten him through some of his worst nights in Afghanistan. Maddie sucks against the filter and the flame catches thin paper and packed tobacco.

She grimaces at the taste, but pulls, waits, blows smoke out her nose.

"You'd think the Buckley Bowl would calm down after the twentieth rematch," she remarks. She's white-knuckling the railing with her free hand.

"Your dad's gonna come out here in ten minutes wanting to shoot the shit about the Pirates July slump like he didn't accidentally imply he'd have preferred me for a son at brunch yesterday."

Maddie sighs. "They're not always like this. I - You've seen them. I just think. I think my first wedding was a brawl and my second didn't happen as planned and Buck hasn't given them any leeway to throw around their opinions and..."

"You don't have to defend them, you know," Tommy says, and - he's not as close with Maddie as he'd like, but they've talked about it, a little. How lucky she is that Evan hadn't ever lost faith in her, how lucky Evan is to have always had her in his corner. How unfair it had all been. "Not to me."

Maddie's lashes are wet, the corners of her eyes glistening. "They shouldn't do this. Every time, they do this."

"Well, the wedding does come with a devilishly handsome new ally against them," he reminds her, and her laugh is a little soggy, but her eyes sparkle as she takes him in. She takes a drag, does a piss poor job of trying to blow smoke rings. Her hand is tiny when it drifts over his forearm and squeezes.

"Well, soldier, I think we're the cavalry."

Tommy butts out his cigarette into the solo cup he'd set out next to the Adirondacks, an hour after he'd bought the pack, holds it out for Maddie to do the same. Her smile is still a little wet, but it's just as lovely as her. Tommy makes a note to hug her extra hard before she leaves at the end of the night.

"Once more unto the breach," Tommy quotes, and slides the patio door open to let her take point.

#bucktommy #maddie&tommy #had the terrible thought: what if tommy understands maddie a little too well #and then this happened #bucktommy fic #probably the least i've said about the buckleys and still the worst i've ever portrayed them actually

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joelalorian · 4 months ago

Text

Fall Into Me - Epilogue

dbf!joel x f!reader | WC: 3.7k | E 18+ mdni

Series Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Chapter Tags/Warnings: Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. A wedding, father/daughter dance, tears, laughter, unprotected p in v (reader's on birth control and they're married now so...), Sarah calls reader Mom, mention of Ellie...

A/N: This is the end, folks! They are a real family now. I'm not crying, you're crying. As we all know by now, this fic was inspired by the song Fall Into Me. Another song dear to me inspired a particular scene in this chapter - Butterfly Kisses. Check it out if you'd like. **it always makes me cry, so beware** This story is dear to my hear and I'm grateful for all the love it has received. Thank you for joining me on this journey!

Moodboard by the lovely @mrsmando. Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Chapter Eleven | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The autumn sun began its descent, painting the sky in beautiful shades of orange and red as it approached the horizon. Joel stared out the double-paned glass, too focused on calming his nerves to enjoy the rolling landscape of the vineyard below. Palms sweaty and heart thumping heavily in his chest, he tugged at the collar of his dress shirt, popping the top two buttons open to help him breathe.

“Cold feet, son?” JB questioned from the doorway before slipping fully into the room. Tommy followed behind him, anxious to see why Joel was taking so long.

Their presence startled Joel and he grimaced. “Not me,” he grunted, still struggling to inhale deep, full breathes as his heart raced.

“You sure about that, brother?”

Joel directed a scowl in Tommy’s direction. “I don’t have cold feet, but I’m terrified she does,” he admitted gruffly. He couldn’t meet the other men’s eyes, feeling vulnerable.

“I promise you, son. Spud does not have cold feet,” JB soothed. “In fact, she has much the same worry about you.”

“A match made in heaven, I’d say,” Tommy chimed in with a grin, bumping his shoulder against Joel’s.

“Come on, now. Get your asses down to the vineyard before Maria comes looking for ya. She’s on a war path, that girl a’ yours,” JB directed with a wink to Tommy. “I gotta get back to Spud, make sure she doesn’t run off to find you before it’s time. Meet again at the altar, fellas.”

The brothers watched your dad leave. Throwing an arm around Joel’s shoulder, Tommy led him toward the door. “The ol’ bastard was telling the truth, ya know. She’s terrified of you getting cold feet. Emily and Sarah have been calming her down for an hour now, insisting that you can’t wait to marry her. That girl loves you more than anything, brother.”

Joel beamed, eyes softening at the thought of you walking towards him in a flowing white dress, wildflowers clutched in your hand, and eyes brimming with tears of absolute joy. The mental image soothed his nerves more than any words could and he finally let Tommy lead him from the room.

Fresh air with the slightest chill met them as they exited the building. The soft hum of a string quartet filled the air while guests arrived and took their seats. A charming wooden arbor adorned with colorful flowers, delicate greenery, and a white sash served as the altar at which the two of you would become husband and wife.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Joel walked down the aisle, nodding at some of the guests as he took his place in front of the arbor. He stood tall, looking undeniably handsome in a slate gray suit sans tie, the top few buttons of the ruby colored dress shirt left open offering a glimpse of his tanned chest and a sprinkle of hair. Thick curls were swept back from his face, facial hair trimmed to perfection with that little heart-shaped bare patch visible.

Stepping up to his left side, Tommy smiled broadly at the small crowd. His longer curls were tied back neatly, and he tucked a few stray locks behind his ears and sent a cheeky wink to his woman sitting in the front row. Maria rolled her eyes playfully. Tommy watched Joel’s hand flex, fingers bouncing against thigh in a nervous tick he had since childhood and braced a hand on his shoulder. “You got this, big brother.”

Before Joel could respond, the string quartet began to play Pachelbel’s Canon and he stood taller, eyes locked down the aisle in anticipation of seeing you. Tommy rushed off to the side to take his place in the processional.

Sarah appeared from behind a row of lush, thick vines, looking like an angel in a white dress with a ribbon of material matching Joel’s shirt tied around her waist. The little girl insisted that her dress match yours, not understanding that, traditionally, only the bride wore white. But you didn’t give a hoot about tradition, helping Sarah to find the perfect white dress, adding the sash as something unique. The recollection of the joy on Sarah’s face when she tried on the dress for the first time made Joel’s heart melt.

Sarah danced down the aisle; face lit up with glee as she scattered rose petals along the way from a small wicker basket clutched in one hand. When she reached the end of the aisle, she spun in a circle, allowing her dress to flutter around her, and tossed the last of the rose petals into the air, much to the delight of the guests and her father.

“Hi Daddy!” Sarah called, bouncing over to the place she was told to stand the evening before. Joel melted at the happiness on his daughter’s face, and he beamed back at her proudly. The little girl’s antics drew a soft rumble of laughter from the guests before all attention turned back down the aisle.

Tommy and Emily stepped past the vines next, looking resplendent in their formal wear, the shade of Emily’s dress reminiscent of a glass of finest pinot noir, matching the hue of Tommy’s dress shirt. Joel nodded at them as they approached, lips quirked in a half smile. His hand clenched at his side as he fought back the nerves again.

Moments later, the rest of the world fell away when you appeared, one hand clasped around your dad’s arm. The charming colors of the setting sun were no match for your beauty. Joel had never seen anyone or anything so perfect in his entire life. A crown of vibrant flower blossoms secured in your hair, the breeze rustled a few locks and the short train of your simple white gown.

Joel couldn’t take his eyes off you – not as you walked down the aisle to him, or when JB shook his hand in that ceremonial way of giving you to him, and certainly not as the officiant rambled through the ceremony. To put it simply, you mesmerized him.

He would almost regret it later, but the entire ceremony was a blur. The only parts he remembered included your face smiling broadly at him, the love in your glistening eyes as you repeated the vows you chose together, and the kiss after being declared man and wife.

“You’re stuck with me forever now, darlin’,” Joel’s gravelly voice rumbled in your ear after the sweet kiss.

Your tinkling laughter carried in air, spreading merriment throughout the vineyard. “Oh no, whatever will I do,” you whispered back.

“Can we go dance now?” Eager to get on with the fun part, Sarah interrupted your little moment.

“Of course, nugget. Let’s go dance!”

The little girl squeezed her way in between the two of you and having tossed her empty flower basket aside without care, slipping her hand in yours and the other in Joel’s to tug you both back down the aisle.

“Someone’s eager to get the party started,” Joel chuckled, lips spread in a jaw-aching grin as his little family made their way to the reception area. Your eyes sparkled back at him, full of happiness and love.

The winery boasted a lodge with an oversized deck suitable for your small celebration and enough rooms for the guest to stay the night. The path from the ceremonial area back to the lodge weaved through thickets of grape vines, plump fruit nearly ripe for the picking as the three of you ducked under and around the vines.

The vineyard was charming, a lucky find in your search for the perfect wedding venue. It was the only compromise Joel willingly made on a venue – he longed for a quiet, backyard wedding, but you insisted on something slightly grander in scale.

Maria and Tommy did a great job of recreating the ambiance of that night long ago in Joel’s backyard for the reception. Fairy lights were strung high across the deck, music playing softly as the guests mingled with cocktails and hors d'oeuvres in hand. High top tables were scattered about, centerpieces full of colorful hydrangeas.

It was perfect.

Wanting to save money, you kept the guest list to less than thirty people, mostly family and close friends, and opted for a bulk purchase of disposable cameras rather than springing for the cost of a wedding photographer. In addition, you insisted on a tier of cupcakes over an actual wedding cake, the icing matching the ruby red color of wine. Sarah and JB offered to put together an eclectic playlist for the winery to play through their sound system rather than put forth the cost of a band or DJ. All in all, it was an entirely family run affair that didn’t break the bank and you couldn’t be happier for it.

You and Joel mingled with the guests for a while before it was time for your first dance. Staying on theme, Joel had one request regarding your wedding song – it had to be Fall Into Me. You could hardly deny that one request, especially as the song meant so much to the both of you, practically telling the story of how you came together. Just like that night in his yard, Joel sang the words in a soft, quiet voice meant only for you, your bodies swaying side to side across the floor like you were the only two there.

None too soon, your dad led Sarah onto the dance floor, letting her stand on his feet as he danced around, just like he used to do when you were little. Maria and Tommy soon joined them, along with Emily and her husband. Before long, the party was in full swing.

You fought back tears during the father-daughter dance. Just as Sarah insisted on her dress matching yours, she wanted to dance with Joel during the traditional time. You were more than happy to have them join you. The battle against the tears was lost during the first chorus of Butterfly Kisses.

JB held you tighter as the first tear fell, brushing it away with a calloused thumb. “Feels like just yesterday when you would dance around on my feet like that,” he said, voice rough and quiet with the choke of tears in his throat. “Now here you are, grown up and married, with a family all your own. You’re not my little Spud anymore.”

Thank fuck for waterproof mascara, you thought as a sob escaped. “Dad,” you drew out the word in a sob, tears flooding your eyes, falling faster. You could barely get out the next words, throat aching and vision blurry. “I’ll always be your little Spud, no matter how old I am.”

Joel danced closer to you, checking in with a concerned look as you cried. “Darlin’, you alright?” His eyes darted between you and JB, the shimmer in the older man’s eyes matching his own. Dark eyes softened into molten chocolate, and he gestured to your dad to switch partners.

JB let you go after a bone crushing hug and a kiss to your forehead. “Take care of my girl, ya hear?”

Nodding solemnly, Joel shook JB’s hand. “Always.” He ushered Sarah into JB’s arms, letting them dance for the rest of the song as he pulled you close. Joel pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. “I told you this song would make you cry, darlin’. Let me wipe those tears away.”

Sniffling, your lips tilted up in a watery smile as he dabbed gently at your face. “I know, it always does. But it’s so beautiful, I had to include it.”

“Almost as beautiful as you,” Joel murmured, head nuzzled against yours. “Sarah already told me she’ll have this song at her wedding, too. I just know I’ll be crying like a god damned baby during the dance.”

That earned a laugh from you, the tears finally easing as the song ended. “Has she started planning her dream wedding already?” Joel nodded, a chuckle rumbling softly in your ear.

The evening carried on, dancing and drinking and laughing with everyone in celebration of you and Joel. You never really imagined your wedding as a kid, more concerned with being a tomboy and other, more important things. But you think now that if you had it likely would have imagined something exactly like this.

“Come on, Mrs. Miller,” Joel said when the lights finally dimmed, and the notes of the final song faded into the night. “It’s time to say goodnight to our guests.”

“Congrats, brother!” Tommy called cheerfully when you and Joel approached. His eyes large and glassy, a slight slur to his words providing evidence of a thoroughly enjoyable evening. “You two throw a great party. Do you need us to watch Sarah for the night so you can—”

“Alright you,” Maria jumped in, cutting the younger, drunker Miller brother off. “I doubt they want your drunk ass watching Sarah. Do you have someone lined up?”

“Oh, yeah, we’re good there. My dad is hosting a sleepover now that he is officially a grandpa. He’s insisting on being called Poppy just like I called my grandad.” You laughed at the memory of that conversation. JB was so excited to have a new nickname just for Sarah.

“Great! I would have been more than happy to help out but I’m going to have my hands full with this one,” Maria said with a gesture to Tommy where he swayed on his feet with a cheesy grin plastered on his face.

“Alone at last,” Joel whispered, carrying you through the threshold of the wedding suite. “You look beautiful in this dress, but I can’t wait to get you out of it.”

Any exhaustion you felt from the long, exciting day vanished at the smoldering look in your husband’s eyes. Your husband. Holy hell. Suddenly nervous, you slowly slipped the dress from your shoulders. Though you and Joel had been together more times than you could count, this would be the first time you had sex as a married couple.

Would his expectations be different? Should they be? Were you expecting something different? Should you? Fuck, why didn’t you think to ask Emily about this earlier?

“Darlin’?”

You glanced up to see Joel’s brows furrowed, realizing that you zoned out with your dress still around your hips. Warmth spread through your cheeks in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Joel. I’m… I’m a little nervous for some reason and got in my head about it.”

His lips tilted upwards as he stepped closer to help ease the dress down your body with gentle movements, knowing exactly what you needed to hear. “There’s no need to be nervous, sweetheart. It’s just you and me, like it always has been. We just have rings on our fingers now.”

And just like that, all worries fled your mind.

Once your dress was out of the way, Joel helped remove your bra and panties, leaving behind a trail of kisses on your dewy skin. His calloused hands, large but gentle, caressed every inch of bare skin before him, trousers growing tight as his body reacted to the sight of you.

His pupils dilated before your eyes and you pressed your lips to his, tongue teasing into his mouth to tangle with his in a searing kiss. He tasted of whiskey and chocolate and something so uniquely Joel, and you drank in the taste like a starving woman.

Still wearing far too much clothing for your liking, you ripped open his dress shirt, sending the buttons flying across the room. Oops. Manicured nails scratched down his bare chest, along his belly, until your fingers met the confining layer of his pants. After watching you fumble with his belt for too long – which, in reality, was only like two seconds, you swear – Joel brushed your hands aside and, without breaking the kiss, yanked the belt open and practically ripped his pants open to free his aching cock.

“What a lucky wife I am,” you purred, breaking the kiss, as your hand grasped his length. Your thumb traced over the bulbous head, smearing the precum pooling there, before bringing it back to your mouth for a little taste. “I get to experience this for the rest of my life.”

“Don’t tease, darlin’,” he growled low in his throat. “Besides, I’m the lucky one. I have the sexiest wife.”

Pants and boxer briefs shoved to the floor, Joel ripped off his socks and swept you right off your feet. Your legs automatically wrapped around his hips as he walked to the large bed. Kneeling on the mattress, he never let go as he settled you on your back.

Already dripping for him, and too anxious to have him inside you already, you didn’t need any foreplay to be ready. His cock slid, with torturous slowness, inside your warm walls with the slightest nudge of his hips. “Fuck, darlin’, you’re so tight,” he breathed against your neck, teeth scraping against the sensitive skin as he fucked into you.

A pleasurable burn spread through you, his cock splitting you open. “Mmm, so good. Fuck me, dear husband. Fuck me like you mean it.”

“As my wife wishes.”

Hips snapping, Joel set the perfect pace to bring you to the edge, heels digging into his ass with each powerful thrust. Fingernails scratched down his back, piercing the skin as he brought you to the peak, the orgasm causing your back to arch and muscles to spasm.

“Fuck, baby, you’re squeezing my cock like a fuckin’ vise. Gonna make me come too soon.”

The orgasm seemed to last forever, pleasure washing over you in waves until you trembled beneath Joel. “It’s never too soon. Come for me, babe,” you gasped when the ability to speak finally returned.

Joel’s thrusts became sloppy near the tail end of your climax, and he spilled inside you as soon as the words left your mouth. His ragged breaths tickled your ear, sending gooseflesh down your body from neck to toes. Your name fell like a prayer from his lips, praising you for how good you made him feel.

“I love you, Mr. Miller,” you said, peppering his handsome face with kisses when he slipped from you and fell to the side with a heaving chest.

“And I love you, Mrs. Miller.”

You don’t know where either of you found the energy, but you made love twice more that night and once again in the morning. After each time, you admired the sparkle of the rings adorning your left hands, the jewelry a tangible symbol of your commitment to each other in this life and the next.

“Mom?” Sarah asked from where she sat doing homework at the breakfast bar while you made dinner. Joel would be home any minute.

“Yeah, nugget?” You grinned, heart swelling every time she called you that. You lost count in the year since the wedding, but Sarah calling you mom would never get old. It was a treasure you never thought you’d experience before you met Joel.

“Do you and Daddy want more kids?” At twelve years old now, Sarah’s voice lost that babyish tone you used to love. She looked and sounded more grown up each day, but she was still her Daddy’s little nugget.

“I don’t know, sweetheart. We’ve talked about the fact that I don’t want to have a baby and he doesn’t want one either. But I wouldn’t be opposed to adopting a child in need, if he wanted to. I’d have to talk to your dad about it though.”

Sarah went quiet while you stirred the pasta and checked the sauce. It was nearly ready, just another minute or two.

“Why do you ask, kiddo?”

Sarah looked up from her work to meet your gaze and shrugged her shoulders in a way that told you she was searching for words to explain herself.

“I dunno. I guess I always thought it would be cool to have a sibling, but then all my friends that have one or more always complain about them.”

Tilting your head to the side, you dug a little more. “So, you’re just curious?”

Dark puppy eyes gazed up at you again. “Yeah… well, no. There’s…” She paused as the timer went off and you drained the pasta and mixed it into the sauce.

“There’s what?” you questioned, placing the large bowl of pasta on the table along with a plate of warm garlic bread, hearing Joel’s truck pull into the driveway. “Come sit and tell me.”

Before Sarah could begin, Joel walked in and kissed you both hello. He washed his hands at the kitchen sink before joining you at the table and you both listened with rapt attention as Sarah explained her friend’s situation.

“You know my friend, Ellie?” she asked, to which you both nodded.

“The snarky one in the grade below yours? Yeah, I like that one,” Joel replied around a mouthful of food. “What about her?”

Sarah grimaced at her father’s poor table manners, earning a smile from you before she continued. “Well, she’s in foster care but her foster parents are awful. They drink a lot and don’t care about her. She ends up hiding out in the detached garage all the time, even staying there overnight just to get away from them.”

“That’s awful, nugget. I’ll look into her file on Monday, see if there’s anything I can do,” you replied. You didn’t realize she was in foster care. As a fifth grader, you haven’t had her in class yet.

Joel looked at you with big cow eyes, brows arched in question. You could practically hear him thinking – he hated the thought of a child suffering in any way. Before either of you could say anything, Sarah spoke up again.

“Well, I was hoping maybe we could adopt her, and she could live with us,” she said hopefully. “You know, since you don’t want a baby and I still want a sibling. It’s like a compromise or whatever.”

Turning to Joel, you could see the same hopefulness in his dark eyes, and your heart thudded in your chest. “Why don’t you invite her over for a sleepover this weekend so we can get to know her a little more. And in the meantime, we’ll look into what we’d need to do.”

Dinner forgotten, Sarah bounced in her seat and asked for your phone to call Ellie. “You guys are gonna love her, I promise!” Bounding away from the table to call her friend, Sarah stopped short at the edge of the room. “Oh, Ellie loves dogs. Do you think we could adopt one of those, too?”

fin

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#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel x female reader #the last of us #tlou #dbf!joel #pedro pascal #idiots in love #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #fic: fall into me

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siribaes · 3 months ago

Text

beggin’

armando aretas x (oc) [ black!fem! ]

a decade ago armando spent an unforgettable summer with an unforgettable girl, who taught him everything. his sex teacher. now decade later he’s face to face with the teacher once again, determined to show that her lessons didn’t go to waste.

contents: some dom & sub dynamics. voice fixation. size kink. praise kink. pet names. fingering. brief! p in v. cūnnilingus. p!ssydrunk armando bc duh. slight impact play (no face slapping!) they’re in love but in denial about it, minor drug mention, etc. mdni!

suggested tunes📻: elevator by flo rida & timbaland, strip tease by danity kane, get naked (i got a plan) by britney spears, radio by girlicious, virtual diva by don omar, push by enrique igelsias

author’s note: this is slight au, so think of this being the early stages of the revenge plot prior to isabel’s escape. lol the chokehold that the long lost love/lovers reuniting has lol >> i tried to make this as filthy as a possible :) not proofread or edited!

club exquisite was in full swing. bodies packed the building, from wall to wall, people were dancing, drinking, or doing both simultaneously. multicolored strobe lights swirled and danced, combinations of blues, greens and reds illuminated the dance floor, complimenting the dj’s killer set of miami’s finest.

it was lively and fun.

armando, however, was having anything but.

tucked away in a corner booth of the v.i.p., armando sat bored out of his mind, sipping on way too sweet champagne. he should’ve been doing something more useful with his time. instead, he was stuck playing babysitter for the son of a future drug connect, all this per his mother’s instructions.

. . .this marriage between his son and your cousin, alejandra will benefit us. our partnership will bring us one step closer, it’s all apart of the grand design mijo. . .

was sipping champagne that tasted like super sugary, ginger ale a part of the grand design? apparently. watching the groom-to-be snort a line of coke off of girl’s ass was a part of the grand design too. armando took another sip from the flute before sitting it down on table, watching as the girl giggled and kissed sebastian on the mouth. armando never cared for sebastian, they were just so different from one another. sebastian was a pretty boy who liked pretty things, he never worked a day in his life and instead of doing his own thing, he basked in the glory of his father’s notoriously ruthless reputation. armando was self-made, haunted by his father’s death and forged by the fire of mother’s imprisonment. armando blazed his own path and was destined for greater things.

yet, he was here in miami, clubbing with sebastian’s and his pack of idiot friends.

a heavy hand shook him out of his thoughts.

“primo,” sebastian slurred. he swiped at his runny nose, before running hand down his half buttoned shirt. “c’mon, we’re going to the real v.i.p.,”

slightly relieved, armando followed sebastian as the bachelor party were lead by security out of the main dance floor. as they weaved between the crowd, armando trailed slightly behind, keeping a careful eye out on the crowd. despite never being in a fight in this his life, sebastian had a fuck ton of enemies. he was like that. the music became a faint murmuring as the group walked through a door and into an elaborately painted hallway. the walls were a warm golden color, while the ceiling and its floors were covered in mirrored tile. the group continued on, armando continued to linger in the back. amongst the drunken laughter of sebastian and his friends, was this clicking sound.

click! . . . click! . . . click!

armando searched around for the sound as they continued down the hallway, eyes roamed around until he found the source, woman in a pair of high heels. they weren’t just any, regular pair of heels, they were black-patent leather so kate louboutins. fortunately enough for armando he’s familiar with the shoe, he may or may not have purchased a pair or two for his past situationships. armando continues to observe; taking in the details, the woman’s shapely and toned legs, the rich brown skin, and the intricate zipper tattoo that began at the back of her ankle, and traveled up her leg. the remainder of tattoo was lost from the fabric of her dress.

a curiosity sparked inside of armando, watching the woman confidently strut the mirrored floor. he wanted to see just how far the tattoo went. she continued leaving a lingering smell in her wake. it was a combination of warm and spicy, like cinnamon and peach pie. her fragrance filled the molecules in the air he could practically taste it. after turning a corner, the group came to halt in front of pair of doors. from the other side, a pair of security guards opened up the doors.

sebastian and his friends drunkenly ooo-ed and ahh-ed and the ornate nature of the room. armando could care less about the sliver couch, the decked-out bar or the strippers that awaited them upon their arrival, he focused on her. although he got better view, she still alluded him, he could see her from the back, fully, a black bandage dress, accentuated her curves and that ass. . . it looked so round and perky like you could bounce a quarter off it, or grab a handful.

something slowly churned inside of armando as he moved further into the room. he leisurely grabbed a seat on the far end of the couch, with the hopes of seeing his mystery girl's face. the party continued on with the speakers on the room ceiling playing a feed of the dj’s set back out on the dance floor. sebastian and his groomsmen settled on the couch, excited for their lap dances. the lights dimmed too, not enough obscure one’s sight completely, but dark enough to bring on a certain atmosphere to the space.

armando scanned the room for his mystery girl. somehow she’s disappeared on him.

“aren’t you pretty one,” a voice whispered to him, distracting armando from his search. standing before was a woman, one of the strippers. her voice was overly smoky and performative. even the way she batting her long, wispy lashes, she was trying way too hard. he tilted his head away from his obstructed view, “you wanna dance, papí?” armando glanced up at her, a laugh bubbled up inside of him, he suppressed it, for her sake of course.

“nah, sweetheart. i’m good,” armando rasped. the woman shrugged, on to the next. when the stripper moved, standing directly in his sight was his mystery girl. even through the darkness, she was as clear as day.

her heart-shaped face, her button nose and glossy lips, her disney-drawn eyes, brown and wide, in they way they’ve always looked when she was shocked or anxious.

armando’s mystery girl, was no mystery at all. he knew her.

before he could call out to her, she bolted out of the room through the doors. armando glanced at sebastian, who was having a grand ‘ol time being motorboated by a voluptuous stripper. he’s fine. armando took off, following the cinnamon-peachy scent out to the hallway.

she was almost at the end of the hallway. . .

“leyna?” she stopped. she slowly turned around and faced him. “you runnin’ from me?”

her brows furrowed. “i wasn’t running. i was just. . .getting some air,”

armando’s lips twitched. he sauntered over, baring no shame is as he took, no, drank leyna in. it’s been so long, his eyes roamed over leyna. armando took his time, observing, noting every single detail, both old and new. he zeroes in on her legs, watching has she nervously bounces her right leg, the tattooed one. her louboutins make a soft clicking noise against the floor.

armando smirks.

“still shakin’. . .you must be nervous,” armando gestured, it was a tick leyna’s had since she was a kid. leyna frowned, she stopped bouncing. she folded arms around her chest.

“please, i’m not nervous,” she sassed. her glossy lips pursed, forming into a small pout. such a brat. he wanted to kiss the pout off her lips. “anyways, what are you doing here, in miami?”

for a moment, he thinks. armando could tell her the truth flat out: he’s here in miami for business, and his only job was ensuring that sebastian, sober or not, makes it down the isle. . .or he could stretch the truth out. make it a game for himself. anything to distract leyna, even if it’s for a short while.

so, armando shrugs. “business,”

“business? that’s it? it’s been ten years armando, that’s all you have to say?”

armando steps closer to leyna. his over 6-foot frame easily towers over her petite 5-foot-3 frame. has she always been so tiny? he reaches out towards her, the corner of his lips twitch as leyna’s chest rises as her breath catches in her throat. he twirls a long strand of between his fingers, before giving it a gentle tug.

“s’ somewhere we can talk?”

“armando,” leyna sighed. her voice was all high and pitchy, it scratched a certain part of his brain. a flood of memories came surging through. he need hear leyna say his name like that again. “i’m working. both of us should get b-back,”

leyna moves past him, armando doesn’t protest. as she starts walking away, armando reaches into his pant’s pocket.

“how much?” leyna spins around on her heels. a flicker of curiosity dances in her eyes.

“huh?” armando watches leyna eyes light up even more when pulls a money clip out. he thumbs through several bills before he lifts it up.

“its ‘bout three g’s in my hand. should be enough for a shift plus tips, yeah?” her eyes bounce between the money and armando. he can see the wheels in her mind turn, she chews on the bottom of her glossy lips.

“10-minutes. that’s all i can do,” armando nodded. he placed the money in her hand, his fingers gently brushed against hers. ten minutes is all he needs.

armando follows leyna down the hallway, opposite of the party. his eyes roamed, watching leyna’s body sway as she walked. he shouldn’t be turned on from a walk but he was. leyna didn’t walk, she glided. so effortless, and so easy, better then any it was something about seeing her so confidence all these years later. it was refreshing, armando dealt with so many fakes and try hards in his line of business. leyna’s confidence was real. she was real.

“i can feel you staring,” leyna sassed. they stop at a door, she quickly inputs a set of numbers on a keypad. the door clicks.

“i like what i see,” leyna shakes her head, she opens the door, stepping aside to let armando walk in front of her.

the room itself was half the size of the v.i.p. room, and opposite in aesthetics too. the walls were painted a nice, creamy beige, with a matching colored couch. on the far wall, there was an elaborate shelf display old-used bottles of champagne. armando steps inside, taking the room in. the door softly closes, with a click. the room is quiet.

“so,” leyna drawls. she takes a seat on the couch. armando follows suit, sitting next to her. their knees almost graze each others. she flips her hair over her shoulder. “wanna tell me the real reason why you’re here in miami?”

armando chuckles. “a wedding. my cousin ‘s gettin’ married,”

“alejandra?” she remembered, of course she did. she was always to so knowledgeable and attentive. she used to be like that to him.

“yeaaah. she’s been lovin’ bein’ in charge of everybody with the plannin’ and stuff,”

“i hope she’s not bogging you down too much,” his lips tipped into a teeny-tiny smile. she still was still the ever-doting teacher, worried about her student.

“nah. wedding plannin’ ain’t my thing. besides, i’m just assigned babysittin’ duty for sebastian,”

“mhm. i would’ve never paired them together. alejandra, from what i remembered, was so kind, and funny, smart too! sebastian is just a grade-a asshole who likes wreck every club he goes to and piss in public,” armando chuckles as leyna shivers, maybe recalling a memory. armando reaches for the hem of her dress, he toys with it between his fingers. she doesn’t stop him.

“she loves ‘em i guess,” part of that was true, their marriage was arranged yet, alejandra told him that she’s learned to love parts of sebastian. there’s a part of him that wished it wasn’t like that for her.

“i wish her the best,” leyna spoke solemnly.

the room fell quiet, armando still toyed with the edge of leyna’s dress. he tipped his head, looking at leyna.

“you’ve been good though, yeah,” he meant for it to be question but it came out as a statement. she had to be good though, she looked good, and had this fancy ass job at one of miami’s most exclusive clubs. life had to be good.

leyna’s leg began to bounce, as she twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “yeah, i guess. my life’s been pretty boring since you’ve seen me,”

“tell me,”

“well. . .” leyna trailed. her leg still bounced. armando wanted grab her ankle and make her stop. why was his girl nervous? “i graduated, i gotta b.a. in business administration, got this hostess job short after, met my best friend ana here, let me tell you she’s literally the best cook,” she was rambling, slightly, but armando didn’t care, he wanted to know every single detail. he missed his girl, his bambi. they need to make up for lost time.

“we’re going into business together, a restaurant. i’m going to take care of all the logistics, put my degree to good use, finally. so, yeah, i’m really excited about it, as you can see. but yeah, uhm, what else, i was engaged,”

armando stopped toying with the hem. he turned and took her fully, her right leg bounced even more so. that’s what she was nervous about.

“what happened?”

“uhm,” her beautiful features held a pained expression. a twinge of anger sprouted inside of armando, seeing her like this. whoever made his girl upset needed their ass kicked, especially by him. “to make a long story short, he cheated, multiple times actually. i just got tired being the laughing stock in every room,” she lowered her gaze and fiddled her hands.

armando slowly reached for leyna’s hands. her hands were so soft under his touch. with his thumb, he drew light circles on the back of her hands. a strange emotion was bubbling up inside him, he couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was. a little anger, some jealousy, a little sadness too, it was just too much fully explain but the his urge was clear. armando wanted to pull her close, and take care of her like she truly deserves.

“he didn’t deserve you,” she looks at him now, her big brown eyes all wide and glossed over. long lashes fluttered against the tops of her round cheeks, her resemblance to bambi was spot-on. the air became thick around them, and that urge, thrummed in his bones.

armando wanted leyna and he wanted her bad.

“you deserved somebody that’ll take care of you,” he rasped. his words were sincere and true, leyna was one of the kindest, tentative, sweetest people he had ever known. she shown him a kindness when most people wouldn’t. leyna deserved the world, and then some. “you deserve someone who’s gonna protect you, an’ spoil you, an’ just fuckin’ be there,” words were spilling out of his mouth now, like faucet left on. he leans in closer to her, glancing down her glossy lips. he licked his own. “bambi, you deserve someone that can make you feel good,” armando was so dangerously close he could see a breath get caught in leyna’s throat, her chest slight rose up in response. he caught a glimpse of leyna’s jet-black bra that held up her ample cleavage. the peachy-cinnamon smell radiated off the column of her neck, it enticed him, slowly drawing him closer and closer to her.

armando leaned his forehead against her’s.

“fuck, bambi,”

“. . .armando,” leyna whispered. her voice was so pitchy and soft, it smoothed over him. it triggered a hunger for leyna, more veracious than ever before. ten years of distance and unresolved feelings, danced in his blood. his palms itched with desire to squeeze and caress leyna’s soft skin. he wanted to touch the softest part of her.

“please. bambi, ‘jus lemme care take of you, make you feel good. . . i never get what i want,”

leyna back away from him, keeping a steady gaze, she caressed the side of armando’s cheek. her manicured acrylics lightly scratched at his goatee. a bolt of electricity shot through his body when her thumb swiped at his bottom lip.

“i’ve only been with a few men after you,” leyna confessed. “none of them, including my ex, made me feel good like you did. you were the only one,”

armando groaned, lowly. everything in him surged to the surface, so much so he was bursting at the seams.

“c’mere,” leyna obliged. he pulls her in for a kiss. at first it was chaste and sweet, armando tried to ease into the kiss, but the pillowy, softness of her lips and her sweet peachy smell drove him insane. he deepened the kiss, moving his lips hungrily, against hers, while he cradled her head. when he licked her lips, leyna opened her mouth to allow him to explore with her with his tongue. she tasted like peach pie.

"i need it," leyna moaned into his mouth. armando hovered over her lips.

"you say somethin' bambi," he teased, he slid his hands down her frame, stopping at her ass. he rubbed and squeezed, before smacking it. she squeaked.

"baby, please," leyna whimpered, she climbed into armando's lap. she slowly, ground down on his lap, she gasped, feeling his hardness. the look she had in her eyes, a mix of lust and longing, shot straight through him and went to his dick. he snaked a hand towards the back of her neck, he gently gripped the soft flesh. she stopped her movement.

"take that fuckin' dress off," he groaned. leyna blinks. she rose from his lap and proceeded to shimmy out of the dress. she let it pool at her feet before stepping out of it. armando couldn't help himself, all of her smooth curves, and deep rich skin, he just wanted to take a big bite of her. he pulled her back to the couch, switching places, and slid between her legs.

there was no pretense, armando immediately spread her legs wide went straight for leyna's pussy. with his thumb he rubs at her clothed pussy. he revels in the small squelching noise that her pussy makes. leyna whimpers, looking down at him with those big, brown eyes. he chuckles.

“still sensitive?” leyna quickly nods. armando chuckles again, he peels her to the side, admiring the slivery trail of arousal that drips from her pussy onto the fabric. he hums. such a pretty pussy. leyna's pink pussy drips and drools with arousal, fully open and ready, all for him. with calloused thumbs, armando rubs small, droopy circles on the inner parts of leyna's thighs. he inched forward, replacing his fingers with chaste kisses, they create goosebumps on leyna's skin. he licks his lips, keeping his eyes on leyna, kisses her clit.

"fuck! armando,"

he anticipates. before she could ask, armando lays his tongue flat against leyna’s dripping core.

“oo-ooh,” she coos. “you ‘remembered,”

how could he forget, images of him buried between leyna’s shaky legs are burned into his brain. countless lessons from her, teaching him, guiding him. he swears he can hear her voice, way back when during that time.

. . .spread your tongue, a little to the left. yeah ‘just like that, s’ good. good boy. . .

a forceful yank on armando’s curls bring him back to reality. he adjusts his grip on leyna’s thighs, spreading them wider, the pads of his thumbs caressing the plushness.

“fuuuck me! oh my g-god,” leyna whines. armando smiles against her skin, his tongue licks a long stripe against leyna’s core. her arousal is sweet, like peach ice cream. it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever, will ever taste. his sweet girl. armando groans, pulling back slightly, he brings his calloused thumb to leyna’s swollen nub. armando rubs her clit, reveling in her response to his touch. she practically glows, deep brown skin, completely flushed, reddening a bit at her chest. her glossy lips formed into a cute pout, her bottom lip poking ever so slightly, just begging to be kissed, to be bitten by him. seeing her so overwhelmed, so pleasured, sends wave of arousal through armando. his erection painfully rubs against the fabric of his slacks.

“eyes on me, baby,” armando rasps. leyna’s struggle to stay open, succumbing to euphoria between her legs. smack! leyna’s disney-drawn eyes shoot open, to look down at armando. for a moment armando sees something flicker in them, it strips him bare, milliseconds feel like years under her gaze. armando pulls back, spitting directly onto leyna’s pussy. with a new vigor, he dives back in, his tongue licks and drags up and down her softness. his tongue swirls the mix, leyna’s honeyed arousal and his spit, gathering and spreading it onto her clit. he begins suckling the nub, feeling leyna’s sugary essence drip down his goateed chin.

“a-armando! wait s-slow down,”

“uh-uh. you’re my big girl,” he spits, again. armando slurps leyna’s clit, hard. no better then a starving man. “you can take it,”

“c-cumin’. i’m cumin’ baby, pleaseee,” leyna lets out a melodious whine. better than any song or music he’s ever heard. nothing can compare to his girl’s angelic voice, all pitchy and delicate. it’s music to his ears.

“ 's i got you. i got you bambi, let it out,” armando drawls. he sucks at leyna’s clit as it throbs against his tongue. her legs clamp down around armando’s head, this makes him push harder to get her over the edge. he switches his approach, one hand pries open leyna’s leg, with the other he slips his middle finger inside her entrance, slowly prodding her open, he flattens his tongue to lap at her clit. with the other hand he reaches, palming one of her bra covered breasts.

“s-shit! don’t stop please,” leyna is babbling now. she rakes her nails through armando’s thick curls. armando can feel her tightening around his middle finger. she’s close. . .

bam! the band snaps. leyna orgasms hard.

her sugary, syrupy essence flows out of her. leyna holds armando’s head close, she rides out her aftershocks, jerking lightly when his tongue and nose glides over her sensitive clit. slowly, armando pulls away, a string a saliva connects from his lips to leyna’s pussy. he rose up from his crouched position. armando towering over her, his eyes gazing down at her, dilated pupils heavy with dangerous mix, care and lust, maybe even something more. the soft lighting catches armando’s glistening goatee and cheeks. his pink tongue swipes at his bottom lip, like a coyote eyeing its subdued prey.

leyna was everything at the same time. his baby take care of, his princesa to spoil, and his bambi to devour.

“h-how’d you get so good,” leyna stammered. her breathing is still a bit choppy.

“learned from the best,” he rasps, he eyes slowly rake over, as if he was studying her. he wanted to remember her in this very moment.

leyna smiles, sheepishly.

“c’mere,” armando beckons. leyna obliges, she sits up, scooting closer to the edge of the couch. armando tilts leyna chin upwards, he leans in, capturing her lips. he nips at her bottom lip, when leyna opens her mouth, he seizes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside. she tastes herself on his tongue, it starts off tangy but quickly bleeds into a saccharine taste. their tongues wrestle. before, in this war of mouths, leyna used to win, mostly due to armando’s lack of experience, but now it’s much different. he wields his tongue masterfully like knight and their sword, twisting and tasting every inch of her mouth.

“you ready for me princesa?” leyna nods. he watches as her mouth opens and then closes when he slips his shirt over his head. she's pratically drooling at the sight. she should be, countless hours of training have contributed to his sculpted body, all muscles and hard edges. mindlessly her fingers trace over his chest. nails drag over the ridges of his six-pack. she stops her ogling when she sees a scar near his rib cage. armando notices.

“bar fight. fucker, got me good with a broken bottle. had to get a couple stitches,”

“oh baby,”

“hey, hey,” armando gently grabs leyna’s hand. he drags it up, so it cups his cheek. “i’m good,”

his voice holds sincerity as that strange feeling returns inside of him. that urge to hold and take care of leyna, to protect her from his woes, the world, and all its troubles. leyna reaches down to unbuckle his pants, but he stops her.

“not tonight, bambi. wanna be inside of you,”

leyna gulps. he cocks his head to the side.

“don't get all shy on me now," armando tilts her chin. "you know what to do, princesa,"

leyna peels out of her slightly ripped and soaked panties, she tosses them aside. she reaches behind for the clasp of her bra, she unbuckles it, carefully she lays it on the couch next to her dress. when leyna reaches down to slip off her heels, armando tsks.

“nah. leave ‘em on,” armando bites his lip, his eyes sweeping over her naked frame. she’s changed a lot over ten years, she’s curvier, with an obvious plushness and fullness in her breasts and ass. noticeably, there’s a small tattoo of a lotus flower on the upper right side of her rib cage. “fuck, bambi. you all grown up,”

leyna opens her mouth to retort but she shuts it as armando unbuttons his pants.

"you trust me?" armando huffs, he slowly pumps his hardness, feeling pre-cum leaking from his tip.

“of course, i trust you,” leyna replies softly.

“shit princesa. you can’t say stuff like that,” armando murmurs.

he slowly spins leyna around, her back was at his front. he made sure slowly grind his bulge into her, so she could feel all of him.

“soy el rey ahora,” there a slight edge in his voice, it contrasted with the soft circles he drew on the back of her neck. “on all fours, princesa,” leyna obliges. she moves towards the couch, planting herself on her hands and knees, and arches her back. armando groans as she makes a show of it, wiggling her hips in the process. “so pretty liked this. my sweet girl, my bambi, imma fuck the shit out of you,” armando all but growls. a hand reaches into her scalp, fisting her hair. he forcefully tugs at her locks, pulling her head backwards.

leyna whimpers. “baby ‘s rough,”

armando roughly spits on her pussy. he watches as the spit slides down, mixing with her slickness. he’s not nice, not like before. all the care and attention he paid towards her pussy, that armando was long gone. now, replaced with a meaner, tunnel-vision armando. he pushes himself, filling her to her hilt, his stretching out her pussy, all of ridges of his dick rubbing against her gummy walls. she's so warm and tight, a delicious contrast of pushing and pulling him further inside of her. a chill runs down leyna's spine while her manicured nails claw at the fabric of the couch.

“oh fuck!” leyna shouts, armando smacks her right ass-cheek. he executes a few shallow thrusts, barely moving in and out of leyna.

“how bad you wan’ it?” armando drawls.

“so bad baby, please fuck me, please,” leyna’s hoarseness sounds ethereal to him. the breathy way she sounds, the want, the need, makes him even harder. so much so it pains him.

“i got you,” armando tightens the hold he has on leyna’s hair and hip. he pulls all the way out, admiring the mess his girl makes on his dick. the glossy shine the covers him. he stifles back a moan, her warmth and softness send waves of pleasure straight to his dick. he bites down on his lip, watching leyna’s ass ripple against him with every stroke. a bolt of electricity shoots through him as she clamps down on him, her walls tighten, and grip at his dick. she's close.

"i feel you, you cumin' bambi?"

“y-yes, oooh fuck! i’m so close. don’t stop,"

a loud chiming erupts over the sex sounds leyna makes. armando can feel a vibration in his pocket. he reluctantly reaches and sees who’s calling his phone, he answers, while still keeping a steady pace. pumping in and in out of leyna.

“fuck, you want,” armando growls, one hand on the phone while the other holds onto leyna’s shoulder. she moans a little too loud, so he covers her mouth. over the phone one of sebastian’s groomsmen informs that sebastian has wandered off with one of the strippers, no one can find him and he’s left his phone behind. “fuck me. fuckin’ pendejo, i-i’ll be over in a minute, shit,” armando slows down his pace before pulling out completely, leyna whines at the loss of contract.

“i gotta go,” armando sighs. leyna now sits facing him.

“but why? what’s the matter?” his heart pangs at the disappointment that edges out in her voice. he quickly redresses, buckling his pants and slipping his shirt back over and on.

“a situation came up,” he leans down and kisses her on the cheek. “imma come an’ find you,”

without another look or word, armando walks out of the v.i.p. with a hard dick and an odd feeling panging in his chest.

#siribaesfics #armando aretas x oc #armando aretas x black!fem!oc #armando x oc #armando aretas fanfic #bad boys fanfiction #black fanfiction #woc fanfiction #poc fanfiction #armando aretas

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ho-for-joequinn-fics · 4 months ago

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The Emperor’s Angel

This is probably the only thing I’ll ever write on this blog since my main focus is writing for Eddie on @eddiemunsonfuxks, so enjoy this one and done fic of our newly beloved Emperor Geta 🥴

Emperor Geta x General Acacius’ Daughter!Reader

warnings: I don’t know jack shit about the Roman Empire, so we’re just going to pretend that I do 💀 Let’s pretend for the sake of this fic that all the children in Rome are on a lovely little field trip for the day 💀 18+ only! Minors DNI! This fic isn’t for you! possessive!Emperor Geta, Geta uses a pet name (Angel) for Reader instead of her real name, death threats, unprotected p in v smut, rough sex, public sex, exhibitionism, breeding kink, creampie, profanity, etc

Anxiety and rage coursed through your veins as you slipped away from the rowdy Colosseum to escape the ordeal that your father, the General of the Roman army, had gotten you into.

He was challenged by Lucius, son of Lucilla, to fight him in the Colosseum to the death, but instead of agreeing and battling him like a real warrior, he offered you up instead. Not to fight in his place, no, but to give you up to marry Lucius as some sort of bullshit peace offering, and much to your dismay, Lucius agreed to the offer.

There was only one problem with that, you belonged to Emperor Geta.

You and the Emperor had been seeing each other behind your father’s back for several months now, quite close to nearing the one year mark, and with how possessive he was of you, you just knew there was no way in Hell he was letting you go to Lucius of all people.

You had seen the rage in your lover’s gaze when he stared at your father in disbelief, Emperor Geta shocked that your father cared more about his own life rather than his precious daughter. Emperor Caracalla had glanced over at you with a weary look in his eyes, knowing this wasn’t going to end well for both Lucius and your dad considering his brother’s short temper and sadistic tendencies.

That’s when you had fled from the Colosseum and headed towards your chambers in the palace, not wanting to stick around and witness what events would unfold after Lucius agreed to marry you, nor wanting to face your father after he handed you over to someone you despised. There was absolutely no way you were marrying that man, especially since your heart wholeheartedly belonged to Emperor Geta in all his sadistic glory.

Little did you know, he was in hot pursuit of you after screaming in your father’s face that you belonged to him and that no one was to take his precious angel away from him. He demanded your father accept Lucius’ original challenge or he would have him put to death either way.

You barely made it to your chambers before a firm grasp on your upper arm was spinning you around in a flash. Your gaze met the fuming orbs of your lover, his pupils completely overtaken by the rage he felt towards your father and his inconsiderate act of defiance.

“And where do you think you’re running off to, Angel? You’re going to miss such an entertaining battle between your disgrace of a father and that useless peasant Lucius.” His grin was sickening and you’d be fibbing if you denied the fact that it had your cunt flooding with arousal.

“I couldn’t stand to look at my father any longer after he pulled that stunt.” You scoffed, your hands resting on the breastplate of Geta’s gold plated armor. “Who the fuck does he think he is? What makes him think I would want to marry Lucius of all people? If only he knew my heart belongs to you, my perfect Emperor.”

“Oh he does now, my love. Everyone does. I had no choice but to reveal our long kept secret because there was absolutely no way I was giving you away to that peasant. You’re mine, Angel, and no one will ever take you away from me.” Geta’s arms wrapped firmly around your waist now, pressing your hips flush against him as he gazed down at you.

“I’m yours, Geta.” You promised, bringing one of your hands up from where it rested on his chest plate and reaching to cup his cheek, your thumb tracing along his cheekbone before you were leaning up to kiss him deeply.

Geta immediately kissed you harder, more possessively, one arm wrapping tighter around you while his other hand moved to grasp at your ass through your royal robe and gown. “How about we show all of Rome who the fuck you belong to.” He rasped into the space between your mouths, pulling a low moan from your throat as he gave your ass a squeeze. “We’ll force your father to watch as I desecrate his poor daughter’s precious little cunt.”

You whimpered at that, knowing that meant Geta was going to ruthlessly fuck you with zero remorse. Not that you minded, you absolutely loved it when he fucked you as though you were nothing but a fuck toy. You knew that he loved you and cared about you, you were truly the only other thing in this world aside from power that meant anything to him, sometimes he just couldn’t help but to take his sadistic tendencies out on you. It’s a good thing you were able to handle it.

“Please,” you whispered against his lips, your tongue tracing along his bottom one. “I want them all to see that I’m yours and yours alone.”

“That’s my good Angel.” Geta gave your ass a smack before he was lifting you up to carry you into his own chambers, making sure the doors were secured before making his way onto his balcony where he set you back down. The balcony overlooked the entire Colosseum, so it was the perfect place to fuck you for all to see without anyone getting a glimpse of your goods. They were for his eyes only. “Take off your fucking garments.”

You moaned at his demand, immediately removing every single article of clothing that adorned your breathtaking body and tossing them to the ground without a care of whether they got dirty or not. Geta removed his white and gold embellished robe before laying it across the edge of the balcony rail, wanting to make sure you had some sort of padding while he bent you over it to fuck you.

Next to go was his gold-plated armor, carelessly tossing it atop your pile of clothes before he was working at freeing his aching cock from beneath his tunic. “Bend over the railing, Angel.” He commanded, giving his thick veiny cock a few strokes while he positioned himself behind where you obediently bent over for him, his cock twitching in his grasp over the fact that you were completely bare naked compared to him.

“EYES UP HERE, ROME!” Geta bellowed out towards the Colosseum crowd, all eyes suddenly shifting towards where the two of you were present on his expansive balcony. “YOU’RE ALL TO WATCH AS I CLAIM MY FUTURE BRIDE RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU! ANYONE WHO DOESN’T FOLLOW THAT ORDER WILL BE PUT TO DEATH BY MY ROYAL GUARDS!”

Your father’s blood was boiling seeing you in such a vulnerable position, but he knew there was nothing he could do to stop it because Geta wouldn’t hesitate to have him killed. He thought that maybe Geta forced you to be with him and put into this situation, but little did your father know, you wanted this and were in on the whole thing.

“Hold tight, Angel.” Geta murmured in your ear, waiting until your hands were gripping around the stone rail of his balcony before forcing his cock inside you in one hard thrust forward, punching the breath right out of you. “YOU SEE, ROME, THIS WOMAN IS MINE. SHE’S BEEN MINE FOR NEARLY A YEAR AND NO ONE IS GOING TO TAKE HER FROM ME!”

You screamed out as his pace started out with zero remorse just as you anticipated, your head thrown back and eyes rolled towards the back of your skull while you took every harsh nudge of his cock against your sweet spots. Tears sprang from your eyes when he tightly fisted his fingers through your hair and forced your head back so he could gaze upon your features as he fucked you, a twisted grin stretching across his lips.

“OH, IF ONLY YOU COULD SEE HOW BREATHTAKING HER FACE LOOKS WHILE SHE TAKES MY COCK, GENERAL ACACIUS! CAN YOU HEAR HOW SHE SCREAMS FOR ME? ONLY FOR ME?” Geta sneered as his gaze flicked towards your father, staring directly at him while he abused your cunt just the way you liked it. His grip on your hip was bruising while the one in your hair continued pulling tears from your eyes, knowing by your pleasured noises and the occasional clench around his cock that you were enjoying the pain.

“I’m gonna cum.” You moaned lewdly as you gave another clench around him, a guttural moan erupting from Geta’s throat in response.

“Not until I breed you, Angel, until you’re so full of my cum that you’re destined to give me an heir.” Geta rasped into your ear as he continued pounding away inside your soaked cunt, his cock and balls drenched from how much you were dripping for him. He grinned when his mention of breeding you made you clench even tighter around him, his hand releasing your hair so he could clasp it around your throat. “You like the sound of that, huh?”

“Breed me! I’ll give you all the heirs you want! I’ll be your good little Empress!” You squealed as you gazed back at him through heavily lidded eyes, hiking one of your legs up onto the balcony railing so that he had a better angle. You screamed even louder as the new angle had his cock slamming against your cervix with every forward thrust, knowing there was no way you were going to be able to last for much longer. “Breed me! Breed me! Please, my love, breed me!”

“Gods!” Geta roared as he used both hands to get an extra bruising grip on your waist while pounding away inside you, tossing his head back when he felt his knot snap and spilling thick, sticky loads of his cum into your womb.

He didn’t let up on his thrusts, not stopping until he came two more times before finally letting you cum for him, your orgasm so overpowering from how much he’d edged you before his fingers finally gave your touch starved bundle of nerves what they needed, that he had to wrap his arms around you to prevent you from falling when your one knee keeping you upright buckled beneath you.

He held you in his arms after he’d pulled out of you until you finally came down from your high, dropping your leg down from where you had propped it on the railing so you could spin around to grab his face and pull him into a starved kiss, not paying any mind to the thousands of eyes still watching the two of you. “I love you, Geta. You really want to make me your wife?”

“Angel, I wanted to make you my wife the moment I first laid eyes on you. You have no idea how ecstatic I was when I realized you want me just as much as I want you.” His own hands reached to cup your face, his thumbs gentle as they brushed against your cheeks, contrast to how he just fucked you in front of the entirety of Rome. “I love you, my sweet Angel, and I’ll love you until my dying breath.”

You kissed him again, your arms wrapping around his neck as you pressed yourself against him. “Take me inside your chambers to breed me some more? And leave the balcony doors open so everyone can hear as you fuck their future Empress some more.”

“That’s my girl.” Geta groaned, lifting you up to carry you back inside and lay you down onto his bed where he fucked several more loads of his cum inside you, this time letting you cum right along with him.

All of Rome now knew that General Acacius’ daughter was off limits, which you were quite thankful for because you hated the unwanted attention from other men throughout the Roman Empire. None of them compared to Emperor Geta, you preferred his level of sadist over any other personality trait in the world. He may have been one evil man, but he had a soft spot for you and you only and that itself made being with him worth it.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! 🩷

Fic tag list: @jasminelafleur @nailbatanddungeon

#emperor geta x reader #emperor geta x you #emperor geta x f!reader #emperor geta x general acacius daughter #emperor geta fanfic #emperor geta smut #emperor geta #gladiator 2 #joseph quinn #joe quinn

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ellilyre · 3 months ago

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It's crazy to me I've never seen anyone talking about Diomedes and Neoptolemus

Is it me, or are Diomedes and Neoptolemus the same character ?

Both are known to be the son of a legend (Through the Iliad Dio is told multiple times "your dad was sm better than you", "you're unworthy of your dad", ect/We all know Neo as Achilles' son rather than his own character)

Neither of them has known his dad (Tydeus died when Dio was 4yo/Achilles left before Neo's birth (or when he was v young)), and yet avenging him is their main goal.

So as a child (Dio 14yo/Neo very young) they respectively went on (what I've been told are) the 2 most important epic expeditions of the era (Epigoni, Thebes/Troy)... And they succeded ! They survived the expiditions/wars their father didn't.

Did it make them special ? No. They still are Tydeides and Achillides. They are their father's sons and it feels like they will never be nothing more.

And I'm thinking of Diomedes when he first met Neoptolemus, and he saw himself. A child too young, wearing an armour to big, fighting not for glory or to survive but to avenge the father he never knew. And Diomedes knows that avenging Achilles and taking Troy won't do anything, it won't ease his anger, it won't make him enough (to himself nor to others)

#its not worded perfectly but it has been sitting in my drafts for too long #i need to read more about Neo hes so so sad #idk him that well so forgive me if im saying incorrect stuff #the iliad #diomedes #tagamemnon #neoptolemus #pyrrhus

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raphaelapproves · 9 months ago

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The child may not show any reaction beyond doubling down on his defiance, but Raphael's nostrils flare and his jaw squares, mouth turning to a sneer.

"Indeed it does not," the Master of the House agrees, his voice level.

Perhaps too level for one so often inclined to the lyrical flow of the dramatic word.

"Is this not the very same piece of machinery that you have explained to me, in great detail, was the reason for your work being incomplete these past weeks? If the boy did, quite, break it, I wonder at why he might so suddenly choose to repair his mischief?" Raphael ponders aloud before stepping closer, fingers steepled in front of his chest, his gaze and his tone taking on a sharpness.

[ And if stepping closer just so happens to place himself between the Dungeon Master and the boy… well. ]

"I would urge you to consider your next words most carefully, Dungeon Master. Need I remind you that I am not of so magnanimous a nature when slighted."

The Dungeon Master jerks upright, straightening, when Raphael's words cut through the air. The tone was lost on the hellbeast, and he replies, eyes glued on the disrespectful little shit between them.

"This 'un here, I caught him messin' round with the machinery. Claims he fixed it, but I reckon he was the one who Broked it in the first place."

"I didn't break shit, I didn't -- it just needed a few adjustments and it started Right back up, it wasn't even jammed up that bad, even a Ao damned Lemure could'ahv done it, but I suppose that's too sophisticated for HIM."

The Master raises his hand and even lets a motion go to goad a flinch, but the child only bared his teeth and stared up at him. "Do it, don't make me any less right!"

#banefulbenevolence #|| like father ; like son || { banefulbenevolence // enver }#|| the devil's in the details || { v; main // the protege }#|| ' what's better than a devil you don't know ? a devil you do . ' || { raphael }

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abibliophobiaa · 2 years ago

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Bad Idea - s.h. x f!reader

note: thank you to @crappymixtape for the initial prompt that started this fun little fic. <3

summary: steve happens upon you while you're reading a smutty book and chaos ensues.

warnings: oral (f receiving); p in v smut -- that's all, really (18+); barely edited, slightly rom-com vibes, so do not take this seriously (haha).

“I got a bad idea. How 'bout we take a little bit of time away?”

A fan blows in the distance. The low hum is a constant drone, offset by the sounds of your quiet breathing and the gentle turn of a yellowed page in your book. You’ve been sitting in your window nook for hours, the weather too hot outside to linger for too long.

Your fingers halt on your current page, eyes glancing out your bedroom window.

Summer burns bright outside. The sky is a bright blue, smiling down on all those who thrive beneath it, its golden sun winking on full display. Your bedroom window is parted enough to allow air to filter in, the sounds of birds chirping greeting your ears. Across the yard is the Harrington backyard. Their pool glints blue and bright beneath you, lounge chairs filled by his parents now back from whatever business trip they’d been on, glasses of champagne already in hand.

Steve’s mother soaks up the sun, all long, lean legs, wide brim sun hat, oversized glasses, and the diamond ring on her finger that seems gargantuan even from here. You catch the sight of his father, stark dark hair like his son’s, leaning over to press a kiss to his wife’s lips before settling down on the chair beside her.

Steve’s nowhere to be found, but you know that’s always the case when they’re home. He’s likely on an errand, trying to stay away from the home, trying to cut all interactions to a bare minimum. Because he’s twenty-two and still working at Family Video, he’s twenty-two and should have more in his savings, should be taking on the family business, should be thinking about his future, should be—

Your attention is drawn by the sound of children’s laughter. The neighbor’s kids have shoddily drawn a hopscotch grid onto the ground, the sound of their sneakers knocking against the warm concrete audible even over the low hum of the cars that slowly slide on past.

And there, in front of your home, you catch the all too familiar sight of Steve’s BMW, and that pretty head of dark hair as he clambers out the driver’s side door, sunglasses perched atop the bridge of his nose.

Your eyes return to your book, knowing you have approximately sixty seconds until he’s in your bedroom and making himself at home. The main characters, two best friends oddly enough, are about to finally cross over a line of no return. You’ve read it enough times to know what comes next.

Nathan will tell Cora he loves her and she’ll tell him the same. He’ll grab her in his arms, pull her close, and kiss her until she’s breathless…

“Hey.”

And there he is, all fitted denim and a striped tee shirt that shows off how generous the years have been to your best friend. Long gone are his gangly limbs of boyhood. Now he’s all corded muscle, finely hewn, high cheekbones, that lovely jaw, dark eyes and his goofy smile that has your heart somersaulting as he plops down against the sea of pillows near your headboard.

“Hey,” you reply, eyes shifting back to your book.

It’s not unusual to sit in silence like this. In fact, he pulls one of your Cosmopolitan magazines from your bedside table and glances down at the woman with gorgeously blown out hair, shifting over onto his stomach. You both read in silence, your ankles hooking over one another as the scene in your book changes and suddenly Nathan and Cora are kissing in the back seat of his car, a little hot and heavy, wild and dirty, groping hands starting to remove clothes.

Your hand comes up to curl around the back of your neck, wiping at some of the sweat pooling there, both from the way Nathan’s hands slide underneath Cora’s shirt and slide along her breast, and the heat spilling in from outside.

“Are you okay?” He asks, head lifting from whatever article he’s likely not even really reading, hair flopping with the suddenness of the gesture.

You close the book for a moment, thumb holding your place, and offer him a nod. “Anything good in there? I don’t even know why my mom orders them; I don’t even read them.”

“So you’re saying you didn’t read this article on ‘Ten Ways to Please Your Man?’” He chuckles, turning the magazine to show you. “Really riveting stuff. I’ll cut this one out for you.”

“You’re such an ass,” you snap, though your voice breaks off into a laugh at the end. You never really can stay mad at him, not when he looks at you like a lost puppy in need of attention. All round dark eyes, elbows on your bed, lip jutting out just so. “Stop pouting. It’s not a good look—and don’t make any corny comments about how all your looks are good looks. Don’t you give me that face, I’ve known you since we were eight.” His look of incredulity falters, those lips of his curling into a smile because he knows you’re right.

Your eyes drift back to your book, picking up right where you left off as Nathan’s fingers unbutton Cora’s jean shorts and he helps to slide them down her thighs, fingers exploring every new inch of exposed flesh.

“Want to go to a movie tonight with Robin and Eddie? We all have off, might as well,” Steve muses, flipping the page of the magazine, and then flipping it again when he realizes it’s only ads for some clothing brand. “They want to see Dead Poets Society, and I remember you said you wanted to see it last week.”

Nathan’s fingers slide beneath the waistband of Cora’s underwear, asking for permission to touch her in a way no one else has. Your knees press together involuntarily, hand coming to rest over your swiftly beating heart, suddenly very grateful for the fan oscillating in the corner of your room.

“Did you hear me?” Steve asks, rolling over onto his back. His head dangles upside down over the edge, face immediately growing red like a tomato, your head shaking at him. “I asked if you wanted to go to the movies with Robin and Eddie later.”

“Oh…” You swallow as Nathan’s fingers start a slow drag along Cora’s center, making her writhe and moan in the back seat of the car, the sun setting and bathing everything in pink and orange shades that dance along his skin with dappled light. “Y-yeah. Sounds good, Stevie. I’d love to.”

You settle back into a comfortable silence. Steve still hangs upside down, tossing a tennis ball you must have left on your floor up into the air from your brief stint trying to play. Couples tennis, minus the fact the two of you weren’t a couple. But he thought it would be funny, and you’d long decided you would give everything at least one chance before ruling it out.

Your eyes drift back to the page, resuming where you left off, right when Nathan slides Cora’s panties down her thighs and asks if he can taste her. Your breath catches, and Steve rolls back over to look at you, brows furrowed high on his forehead in concern.

“Are you okay over there? Seriously. You’re breathing all funny and you’re barely here right now as it is,” he worries his lip between his teeth, those dark eyes of his meeting yours from across the room.

“I’m okay.” You glance down at your lap and tap your book. “You just walked in as things were picking up in my book.”

Maybe it’s not the right choice of words in retrospect. Maybe you shouldn’t have mentioned it at all and instead played it off like, yes, yes you were feeling a little under the weather because of the heat. But you don’t, and it’s the small fumble over your words that has Steve pushing himself upward to sit on the bed, head tipping lightly toward your floppy paperback.

“What are you reading anyway?”

“Nothing,” you mutter, sliding your bookmark into place. You press your book onto the cushion beside you, arms coming to curl around your body, shoulders shrugging. “Just a book.”

“You already said that,” he replies, throwing one foot over the edge of the bed, followed by the other. You shift further against your nook, your book sliding beneath a pillow as your hip bumps against it, obscuring it from view. “What kind of book is it?”

“Adventure,” you say quickly, turning a bit to meet him as those hands come to rest on either of your shoulders. “You haven’t hugged me today.”

“I know what you’re doing,” he says, but he appeases you anyway, his face inches from yours as he bends down to fold you against him.

You hum against his chest, relishing in his warmth, when you ask, “And what is that?”

“Trying to distract me.”

“I’m not distracting—”

Your words are cut off, because Steve’s hand reaches swiftly behind you to curl around the edge of your book and tug it close to his chest. The shriek you let out frightens even yourself as you rush after him, arms curling around his waist and sending him hurtling down against your bed. The book skitters toward your headboard, but that’s the least of your worries right now.

The only thing terrifies you more than him reading the scene that comes after where you left off is the way you’re sitting on top of him. With a slow, horrifying clarity, you take in the room around you. Thighs splayed on either side of his hips, your hands pinning his arm closest to the book above his head, and his hands reflexively against your hips. His chest rises and falls steadily beneath your palms, those dark irises rounding around the edges, his fingers clutching into the belt loops on your shorts.

You both look at each other in silent panic. Because this is your best friend. This is over ten years of friendship lying beneath you. It’s the boy who has seen you scrape your knees learning how to ride a bike, sat next to you on the swings at the park, was there for your first heartbreak. Because he’s the boy you were there for when it then happened to him with Nancy, the one you walked around town with after dark on a warm day with cups of ice cream in hand, the one you told everything to, who knew you best, the boy you snuck your first beer with, and fought off monsters from the Upside Down alongside.

Luckily, he seems to come to the same revelation just as quickly, shoving you off him onto the mattress, hands coming to dance along your ribs until your sides hurt from laughing so hard. A foot comes out to kick him in the thigh when his hand slides out above you, and you hear the familiar slide of your paperback against a blanket.

“Not fair!” You growl, watching him lean back on his haunches, book tucked into his shirt that he’s then tucked into his jeans. “That’s disgusting. You can keep it now. You’re sweaty.”

“I just showered.”

You huff. “Still. Why do you care about what’s in it so much?”

“I wanna know what’s got your panties in such a twist,” he says. Your heart thuds in your ears, throat bobbing with a thick swallow. “Are your panties in a twist? Is that why you’re all out of breath?”

“Steve,” you warn, though there’s no malice in your tone, only hesitancy. You curse yourself inwardly.

His voice drops into a whisper, “Is this a sexy book?”

You want to throttle him. Want to wrap your hands around his shoulders and shake the look of pure and utter delight off his smug features. Only you don’t. You sit there and watch as he slides off your bed and stretches his arms above his chest, which outlines the rectangle hiding against his skin all the more.

It’s then you remember: Steve Harrington hates books. Hated them in high school so much that you had to always read them for him and give him your breakdown of what happened, and you know for a fact he hates them now. The likelihood that’ll change brings you some peace. Confidence rising, you lean back onto your palms, grinning widely up at him.

“Movies at eight then?”

He arches a brow at your sudden shift in demeanor. “Uh…yeah, sure. I’ll pick you up at seven thirty.”

Everything will be just fine.

Only it’s not.

You learn quickly that, though Steve’s hated every book given to him thus far in life, he absolutely devours this one.

There are certain fears that have always lingered in the back of your mind throughout the years.

The first being the worry one day Steve would find out about your years-long crush you’ve had on him. The feelings that have lingered way longer than you ever intended for them to. And it’s not like you hadn’t tried to push them aside; you dated other people, put yourself out there, all to take your mind off of it. It always works…initially. That is, until he does or says something that has you falling all over again, wondering if he’d ever feel the same—wondering if he’s ever felt the same.

But this isn’t a romcom movie, and not all stories like these end up in a relationship, and you had already accepted that…for the most part. If there’s any hope, it’s more like a small flame. A tiny flicker. Nothing noteworthy or remarkable to see here.

Your second fear is the newest one. The fear that Steve would read the book you’d allowed him to sneak out of your house a week ago—actually read it—and unleash a new kind of petrifying hell on you and take actual pleasure in your demise.

It starts over Eddie’s place. He’s got an apartment with Robin now, a dingy little place you’ve always thought they should move out of, but theirs all the same. Robin and Eddie are picking out a movie while you and Steve stand in the kitchen, getting various bowls and trays ready with chips, candy, popcorn, and drinks.

Neither of you has said anything about the book catastrophe. That night, you’d gone to the movies as planned and even shared a soda together, your shoulder pushed against his like nothing even happened. You figured he’d torture you a bit, keep the book for a few days, and give it back with your bookmark exactly where you’d left it.

But he still hasn’t returned it, and when you ask him for it in the middle of Eddie’s kitchen he only shrugs and says, “I’m actually reading it again. I think I skimmed it the first time; I want to make sure I take it all in. Every word, and, you know, every inch of it.”

You glance his way out the corner of his eyes. On a good day Steve’s odd, to say the least. It’s one of the many things that endears you to him and has made you love him as much as you do. Right now, however, he’s all flushed cheeks and wide smirks, looking very much like the cat who swallowed a canary.

“Why are you smirking?”

You shuffle about him to reach into one of the kitchen cabinets in search of a scissor. You snip the corner edge off of an M&M bag and pour some into a bowl, watching him the whole time.

His smug self reaches down to grab a handful of your freshly pourn candies and plops a few into his mouth. You’re about to reprimand him when he moans around the mouthful, saying, “You taste so sweet, baby.”

Your throat dries. It’s worse than the Sahara Desert. Sandpaper slides across your vocal cords, your mouth opening and closing to try and form sentences. Words. Vowels. Anything would be better than the fish-like gape you’re left with, eyes widened in absolute horror.

“What did you just say?”

He turns to face you, his hip pressing against the countertop. Another M&M is lifted to his pursed lips, tongue sliding over it before pulling it into his mouth, his voice low as he repeats slowly, “You taste…so sweet…baby.”

Your eye twitch is your only response.

Your personal hell gets worse, if that’s even possible, two days later.

It’s a particularly balmy June day. Luckily, Steve’s parents are once again out of town, leaving the two of you behind to do whatever it is the hell you want to do. The both of you had settled on a pool day. Just the two of you lounging on floats, smelling of suntan lotion, your cherry chapstick freshly smacked against your lips, and soaking in the sun’s rays.

You’re on a round float in particular, arms spread out beside you, fingertips dancing along the pool’s surface. Music blares from a speaker in the distance, your warm beers long forgotten near the lounge chairs covered in your colorful towels.

You still don’t have your book back, but you can’t find it in yourself to ponder on it. Not like this, not with the water dancing along your skin, chilling your sweat-slick body, bobbing along the water without a care in the world.

“Should I make burgers or hot dogs?” Steve asks when the sun starts to set a bit and the humidity in the air lessens.

You slip down into your tube now, legs kicking in the water, arms propped up over the plastic edges. He treads water in front of you, hair slick against his head, face tanner than it was earlier that evening. He’s even got new freckles along his shoulders, dark against his golden skin.

“Can you do both?” You grin, reaching forward to poke at his cheek. “Please?”

“You’re lucky I like you,” he says, moving to go swim toward the shallow end of the pool where the stairs are.

You’re lucky you’re holding onto a float, because you’re pretty sure you would have momentarily choked under the water at the sight of his form disappearing beneath the surface, long legs kicking in that red bathing suit. Those strong arms of his slice into the water, perfectly practiced motions from the summers he spent life guarding.

You’re so rendered immobile by the sight you briefly forget it’s a scene that happens in your book. A moment when Cora realizes she’s physically attracted to her best friend. Only you differ from her in the fact that you’ve known Steve Harrington has been gorgeous for years. If that isn’t enough, though, when his body slowly walks up the stairs and he turns around to face you, your cheeks burn hotter than the sun could have ever warmed your skin. Because he slides a hand up onto his hair, bicep and abdominals rippling and on display.

Is he moving in slow motion? No, he can't be. Can he? What the actual fuck is going on?

“I’m onto you, Harrington.” You drag a thumb along your throat in a warning.

He only laughs and flexes his arm once more, asking innocently, “Whatever do you mean?”

You’re going to kill him. You’re going to actually have to kill him.

Over the course of the next few days Steve ups his antics.

It’s diabolical, you’ll give him that.

You make a mental note to talk to Eddie about it, because the dramatic flair practically screams his influence.

One of the days he wears a button up in the middle of your kitchen and offers to wash your dishes. Slides his sleeves up over his forearms so you can see all the tendons rippling as he moves (you almost pass out). Unbuttons the collar of his shirt complaining of heat to show that dark hair spattering his skin (you walk into the fridge).

Another day he takes your hand and dances with you like Nathan and Cora do in one of the chapters, spinning you round and round despite your initial protests, to something exceedingly romantic for your best friend’s tastes.

On the third, he accidentally brushes up behind you while you’re grabbing a board game from your closet and you feel the firmness of his chest against your back. You have to pray, something you haven't done in a long time, to keep yourself from doing something you might forever regret, because when did Steve get so muscular?

The fourth day brings soft serve ice cream, which is usually an innocent, non-sexual experience. Until, that is, Steve starts trailing his tongue along it. Little kitten strokes at first, long swipes through cream, the occasional slurp. And that’s all fine and dandy, something you can deal with, until he moans and you have to threaten him with the garden hose (after contemplating using it on yourself to cool off) because you’re not sure if you're about to combust into flame or kiss him square on the mouth and ask him to reenact his performance with the ice cream for real this time.

The fifth, while you’re minding your own business and actually trying to restock the tapes at Family Video, he plants dirty quotes from the book around the place. The two of you play games all the time. It gets you both into more trouble than you’d ever really like to share or admit, but this one is bolder, more evil than any that have come before it.

You’re torn between loathing him and loving him more for it.

And while you don’t particularly enjoy your job there, and really only use the pay to help you put yourself through college, you also don’t want to have to explain to Keith why there’s dirty talk written and hidden in parts of the building. You can picture him firing you already, fed up with Steve’s and your constant antics.

In the break room. I want to taste you.

Attached to the employee bathroom mirror. Let me hear those pretty sounds.

On a back room shelf. You feel so good around me. Feel how deep I am?

Inside one of the cup holders in your car (must have snuck that one while you’d been in the bathroom) I want you to fuck me so hard that I forget my name.

He’s proud of himself, laughing whenever you make a point of ripping up the paper loudly in front of him, letting the shreds drop one by one into a trash can. In actuality, though, your insides are fluttering from the words he’s chosen and you don’t even want to think about the way your thighs clench together or how you feel wetness pool inside your panties, so you decide you need to do damage control.

“So what you’re saying is he’s torturing you?” Robin asks at the conclusion of your debrief.

Her and Eddie sit across from you on the couch, watching wearily as you practically burn a hole in the carpet from your constant pacing. It’s been like this for a half hour. You frantically tell them all the ways Steve’s been haunting your every waking moment. How you’re feeling things you’ve long since tried to suppress.

You’re pent up.

A rubber band ready to snap.

You’re just afraid of what happens when that moment comes. Afraid of what you’ll do, what you might want.

You can’t voice it, let alone allow yourself to think it.

It would be a bad idea.

“Yes!” You nearly shriek, throwing your hands up in the air.

“You two share a single brain cell, and it’s actually quite amusing,” Eddie says.

It’s the only thing he’s said the whole evening, and you pause to whirl around and face him. “What did you say?”

“The two of you,” he says evenly, hooking an ankle over his knee. “Share a combined brain cell.”

“That’s rude,” you snap, narrowing your eyes.

He laughs, glancing over to Robin. “Are the two of you ever going to, oh I don’t know, act on your feelings? I thought it was because of all the shit with the Upside Down. But we saved the world, remember? So what gives?”

“I’m not following…”

Robin interrupts, all wild hands and frantic speech. “You two dinguses like each other. And stop with the ‘we’re best friends’ bullshit you feed everyone. The two of you are dancing around each other and have been for years now. Why not…talk it out and see what happens? You’re clearly feeling some sort of way over this weird little game the two of you are playing this week.”

But the two of you are best friends. You’re not Nathan and Cora. That kind of stuff happens in your books. Those fated relationships, destined to be at a young age.

You know how to separate fact from fiction.

Steve and you are fact, and you don’t want to dabble in fiction when it comes to him.

Right…?

Tears for Fears blares through the speaker system, Family Video empty save for the two of you. The ‘OPEN’ sign on the door has already been flipped to ‘CLOSED.’ You’re meant to be going through new releases for Keith and unpacking them from the boxes laid out in the back room. He’s already told you where he wants them placed, which movies to arrange on certain shelves for different occasions.

Your pencil scratches along paper, calling out the names of movies to Steve, crossing out a box to confirm you received all the titles the business was expecting. It’s tedious, and you’d rather be doing just about anything else, but it takes your mind off the tension swirling in your gut over your ‘Steve situation.’

Neither of you have spoken in a bit. More so because you don’t know what to say. You don’t know how to address the elephant in the room: the fact you like him, want him, and have been struggling to remind yourself that this game you’re playing is only a game. It’s a dangerous line to walk, even scarier to tread. On one side, the safety of friendship, and on the other is the unknown.

So you return to your tapes, the shadowed in boxes, the methodical strokes of pencil against paper. It’s another ridiculously warm day. You curse the shoddy air conditioning system Keith never calls in to get fixed, hands sliding down the sides of your skirt, grateful for the slight breeze that tickles your ankles with every movement. If Steve’s warm, he says nothing of it, only picks up the pace with going through the inventory and closes up the box once you’re finally done.

“We just need to double check the back room is clean and then we can lock up,” he says. Your head lifts abruptly, having gone so long without hearing his voice it almost shocks you.

“Oh, yeah. Right. Coming,” you tell him, clipping your pencil to the board and sliding the whole thing onto the shelf beneath the counter.

Steve’s shoving the box onto a wooden table when you join him, your eyes doing a cursory scan about the room to make sure everything looks to be in its proper place. What you don’t expect to see, however, is your book resting in your pocketbook on the chair you left it atop of.

Steve follows the line of your gaze and chuckles. “Figured it was about time I gave it back.”

You lift the tattered old thing in one hand and flip through the pages. He’s moved the bookmark all the way to the back, and you know he’s read the whole thing. Satisfied with its condition, you tuck it back into where it belongs and lean against the wooden table, palms curling around the edge as you shift to face him.

“You done teasing me?” You ask pointedly, head tipping to the side with a little smirk. “Even I have to admit that was a cruel game.”

“Why was it cruel?” He steps closer, the already small room shrinking even further.

“You were making fun of me.”

“No I wasn’t. I liked the book,” he admits, the corner of his lip twitching upward. “I just had one question the whole time I was reading it.”

“Yeah? What’s that?” You’re genuinely curious, leaning back further against the table.

Steve takes another step closer, dark hair bouncing with each movement, those eyes dark and kind. “You’ve written down all the dates you read the thing in the front. So I assume it’s your favorite. Why is it your favorite?”

It’s…not a bad observation. If anything, it has your blood burning a bit, heart starting to flutter faster in your chest. Still, you keep your cool, shrugging your shoulders in reply.

“Come on now, since when do we keep things from each other?”

His hand drops down onto the wood beside your hip, his chest nearly pressing to your knees where you sit. Your feet kick mindlessly back and forth, brushing against his shins, skirt fluttering around you.

“I like the plot,” you admit, popping the 'p' for emphasis, trying to look anywhere but his face as you continue, “I like the idea of two people who already know each other trying to see if there’s more between them.”

“Cora and Nathan are best friends.” It’s not a question, but a fact. You nod, watching his other hand drop onto the other side of your hip. “Is that why you got all hot and bothered in your bedroom? Why those notes made you squirm?”

“Don’t be an asshole.” You cross your arms over your chest. “It’s a book.”

“Is that all it is?” He asks, looking into your eyes with an unfamiliar intensity. You want to hide from it, but it dredges up something new in you. Something bold and dizzying. “If it’s just a book, tell me that’s all it is and we’ll close up and go home.”

You don’t say anything for a while.

How could you? How could you admit that the reason it’s your favorite is because it’s about two best friends falling for one another? How could you admit you dreamed and hoped maybe one day it would be your reality with him? How could you admit you wanted to taste him, touch him, feel him for years now?

Steve moves to head back toward the main room when you make your choice.

“Steve?”

He whirls around on the spot, eyes searching your face. He rushes back over to where you’re sitting. Your hands slide up tentatively into his, testing the weight of them in your palms.

You exhale a deep breath, “Kiss me?”

There’s no moment of question. No hesitance behind his gaze when he curls a palm around the side of your face and swoops down to kiss you soundly on the lips. It’s not slow and sweet like in the many movies you’ve seen and books you’ve read. Instead it’s an urgent, hurried thing. His hands slide around your hips and draw you closer to him, your thighs parting to make space for him, mouths licking into one another hungrily, years of pent up emotion spilling into the spaces between you.

It’s a nip of his bottom lip here, the gasp from you when his mouth slides along your cheek in search of your jaw, sucks below your ear in a way that has you clutching at his shoulders, dragging him closer. Fingers pinch into skin. Frantic hands slide over your Family Video vest, his mouth forming the quiet question of “Can I?” And your head is nodding, heart thundering. He slips it free from your form and touches at the hem of your shirt hesitantly.

“You can touch me,” you rasp out, hands clutching around the edge of the table. A callused palm slides up and along your skin, dances along the curve of your breast, right over the rapid thrum of your heart. “Stevie…”

He’s kissing you again, hand sliding out from underneath your shirt and instead rucking up the sides of your skirt. A gust of cold air hits the tops of your thighs as he bares you to him. You watch those fingers that have held you all these years, have tended your wounds, soothed away your worries, drag along your flesh. Up over the curve of your thigh, the curve of your hip, and down again.

“I want you to touch me, Steve. I want you,” you whisper against his ear, curling an arm around his shoulder and shuddering into the side of his neck. Those fingers slip down the front of your panties and trail a dangerous path from your slick center to your clit, teasing lightly, circling where you want him most.

He hums pleasantly. “This all for me, pretty girl?” He’s smiling to himself at your quiet cry, tracing the same pattern once more before dropping down onto his knees to help you slide them down and off your legs. “Are you sure?”

“Pleas—” Your voice breaks off into a moan. That taunting mouth of his licks a deadly path from your entrance to that sensitive nub, rendering you at his mercy. He slides one of your thighs up and over his shoulder, the other held out to open you further to him. “Just like that, just like that.”

He licks into you, murmuring into your skin about how he’s wanted you like this for years. Dirty sounds of your slick meld together with your gasps and whimpers, fingers reaching down to grasp at hair, tugging hard, hips grinding involuntarily into his face.

“Steve!” Your head falls back at the white hot flash behind your eyes when that first finger slides in all the way to the knuckle, a sinful slide in and out of you that has you craving more. More fullness, more something, more Steve, until you’re whining pathetically. The second finger joins the first, stretching and sliding against skin, working in tandem with the flat of his tongue against your clit.

You come with a cry of his name, body bowing over the top of his head, fingers a tangle against his scalp. He continues to lick and pump into you through your orgasm, his other hand holding tight against your hip you’re sure you’ll have bruises come morning. But you don’t care. You don’t care at all. You grip the front of Steve’s shirt and drag him upward to your mouth, tasting yourself on him. His tongue glides over your own, moans mingling in the spaces between you.

Your hands work on his jeans next, needing more of him, his mouth moving languidly over yours. Shaky hands slide the button through the hole, fingers pushing down the zipper, the desperate wiggle of fabric down his thighs so he can kick himself out of them. You waste no time sliding him out of his boxers, hand pumping him once, twice, before he’s sliding on a condom fished from his wallet and asking you how you want him.

It’s how you end up sliding down to the edge of the table, his fingers dipping into your slick heat, still sensitive from your orgasm, his cock straining against your hip when he drops down to kiss you once more, whispering, “Are you sure? Need your words, pretty girl.”

“I want you…I’ve wanted this, Steve.”

You feel him nudge at your entrance, so full and thick it has your eyes rolling slightly at the first delicious stretch. Your arm curls around his shoulder to drag your chests closer, gasps mingling, the hand curling around your hip gripping tighter while he sinks inch by inch into you until he’s buried to the hilt.

He rocks slowly against you at first. A slow, torturous drag in and out. In and out. Until you’re whimpering steadily into the quiet room, ankle curling around a hip, drawing him closer. Always closer. It’s a slow build up. Face pressed into his chest, hips rolling in tandem with his, relishing in his sounds rumbling deep within his chest.

It’s Steve, you remind yourself.

Steve, your best friend in the world, rocking into you, chasing your peaks together. He's whispering how pretty you are, how good you feel, praising you. He murmurs ‘good fuckin’ girl’ against your mouth when your head shifts and you kiss him greedily, a messy tangle of lips, tongue and teeth.

“Faster, Steve,” you plead, eyes pinching shut.

His hips snap harder against yours, his grunts and groans filling the space, driving the table to knock against the wall, sending the box of new inventory hurtling to the ground. Neither of you can be bothered with it, hands clutching against clothes, mouths tangling, wet skin slapping against skin, lurching closer and closer to the edge.

Steve’s laying you back against the table, chest crawling over your own, mouth like a brand against yours, your hair fanning around your head. He curls a forearm under your lower back, tilting your hips, the new angle hitting that part of you over and over and over again that makes your vision grow white around the edges. Your whimpers of his name spurring him on, your thigh crooked over one of his elbows, drawing him closer, deeper.

Steve comes seconds after you do, face red and chest heaving, gasping at the way your body clenches around him. Kisses you in between broken cries of his name falling from your pretty lips.

Your thigh slides back down from around his elbow. The other thigh slowly drops back down against the wood, skirt bunching indecently around your hips, his chest heavy against yours. Your fingers come up to brush along his hair, humming when he leans over to kiss you once, twice, and then slides off of you, your body immediately missing the feeling of being full of him.

You dress and clean in silence. Little awkward chuckles spilling here and there as he helps you slide your underwear back on, head disappearing beneath your skirt to teasingly nip at the inside of a thigh. Your hands help to smooth his unruly hair back into place. It’s a gentle slide of fingers together when you both make your way out to his car and slip inside, the cheeky grin from him when he leans over the center console and smacks a kiss against your cheek, making your skin burn ablaze.

“Want to go get food? Maybe a milkshake,” he suggests, curling a hand around his steering wheel. “On me.”

“Like a date?” You muse, watching his hand curl around your own to draw your palm to his lips for a slow kiss into the center.

“If you want it to be.”

Steve and you open up at Family Video the next day.

Your late night plans the day before in hindsight may not have been the best idea either of you had in a while, but seeing him early that next morning with his sunglasses perched on his face and his lips eagerly seeking yours over the center console had made it worth it.

You’d spent the evening huddled over a basket of fries, talking about your feelings, about giving things a try, constantly touching. Hands, cheeks, shoulders, legs. You craved it all, this new need to be attached at all times, butterflies fluttering in bellies, grins tugging at faces. Later it had been chocolatey milkshake kisses under the stars at Lover’s Lake, a new world of exploration at your fingertips.

Presently, Robin and Eddie mill about in the distance, looking for a movie for your usual Friday night in, the two of them calling various movie titles over to where you and Steve work behind the countertop.

“How about Heathers?” Eddie asks, just as Keith barrels out of the back room, looking red in the face and on a mission.

“Looks like you two—” he points between you and Steve. “—did some rearranging in the back room last night. That wall you dented and then tried to hide behind the table, however you managed that, I don’t know…but yeah, you’ll be paying for it. And the stack of movies on the floor? If any are busted, I’ll dock both your pay for them as well. Count your lucky stars I’m not firing you both.”

He’s gone back the way he came, leaving you standing beside Steve, your mouths open, eyes rounded in fear.

Steve mouths, “We forgot to clean up the movies…”

You turn into his chest to hide, mortification burning your face.

Robin and Eddie smirk, high-fiving amidst the movie displays.

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