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call-me-strega · 9 months ago

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How to Become a Step-Dad in 5 Easy Steps: p. 2, ch.2/5(?)

Happy Late Valentine’s Day my dudes.

(This is Unedited, the cleaner version is on ao3)

First, prev, lore, ao3

~~~

It was a week later that Jason ran into his neighbors again. Or well, actually Red Hood ran into them. Then again “ran into” was a bit of a strong (read: inaccurate) description. He had more so observed from afar than ran into them per-say.

He had just landed on a rooftop when heard the sound of increasingly familiar giggles. A cold wind pushed against his helmet as turned to the source. Lo and behold there was the father-daughter heading on the direction of their apartment complex. It was about two blocks from their current location.

‘Well,’ Jason thought. ‘2 blocks off my normal route won’t hurt. I’ll just make sure I see them arrive safely and then continue on with my patrol.’

He watched as Ellie is rushed down the street waving around her toy space shuttle, eager to get home. She ran further ahead from Danny who had his hands full with groceries. He called after her to stay where he could see her and she just giggled and gleefully replied with and “Okay Daddy!”

Jason smiled at their interaction. He felt a sense of comfort and longing seeing such a close and loving pair. However, his smile faded as a pit formed in his gut. His instincts could sense was something off and from the corner of his eye he saw some movement in the alley the Ellie was approaching. As quickly and silently as possible Jason crossed the rooftops to get closer.

Just as Ellie reached the opening of the alley some two-bit thug reached out and pulled her into the alley. The young girl cried out as she dropped her shuttle. She called out to her dad in distress.

“Daddy!”

“ It’ll be okay Ellie! I’m coming! Remember what I told you?!”

Danny called back took of down the road trying to reach his daughter.

This seemed to calm her down as her fear became more manageable. She stop struggling and did her to glared at her would be kidnapper. Jason finally arrive on the roof top ready to drop into the alley and intervene when he witnessed a series of events that stunned him.

Ellie kicked the guy in the nuts with as much force as her little body could muster.

Which appeared to be quite a lot based on the sound that came outa the guy as he let go of her. Just then Danny reached the alley abandoning his groceries by an empty box at the mouth of the alley.

“Ellie!” He exclaimed reach out to gathers her in his arms. He held her tightly and stoked her hair trying to calm her. “ It’s okay baby, I’m here. Daddy’s here Ell. I’m not gonna let anyone take you,” he assured her.

The guy growled as he managed to get back up. He bagan to advance towards them once again with a switch blade in hand this time. Unfortunately for him he didn’t get very far in his plan to use it as Danny reached into his pocket and pulled out some thing labeled “Creep Repellant”. Just as the guy got close Danny pushed Ellie behind him, lifted his arm and maced the guy to distract him. The man cried out in pain and ended up dropping his blade. Then Danny pulled back and clocked the guy in the nose. He stumbled back groaning.

Danny didn’t give him another chance to regain his wits. He just turned, picked up Ellie, and booked it home.

Jason witnessed all of this almost starstruck by the way the how the dad handled himself and his kid. His major priority was making sure Ellie got out of the situation safely even if he had to abandon his groceries and Ellie’s toy to do it. Jason decided to make sure they won’t be followed by this guy. He dropped in and quickly knocked the guy out. Then he zip-tied him to a pipe and called for someone to come pick up guy up before he decided to hand him over to one of his Lieutenants instead. None of them would take to kindly to a potential child trafficker.

Jason walked back to the mouth of the alley and examined the abandoned groceries in the same galaxy-print reusable bags he’d seen Danny use at the store last time. He picked them up, along with the toy space shuttle, and took the back to the apartment complex. He left them in-front of Danny’s door with a note from Jason saying he found them in an alley and believed them to be Danny’s because he recognized the bags and one of the toys Ellie had shown him.

Was it a bit weird? Perhaps, but it could be played off as a coincidence and made more sense than the Red Hood leaving them on the Nightingales’ fire escape.

Later that night Jason’s brain kept replaying the image of a six-year-old kicking a grown man in the balls and her father proceeding to pepper spray and deck the dude. It brought a smile to his face to see that Ellie was well protected and evidently being taught how to protected herself too. He felt his fondness towards them grow once more. (He tried to ignore the part of his brain that kept replayed Danny’s punch and whispered ‘that’s kinda hot’)

~~~

About three days later Jason was driving home from the Wayne Foundation on his bike when his engine started stalling and losing power. He cursed his luck and decided to take a turn to head to his favorite mechanic's shop.

Ol' man Sammy had started the shop when he was still a kid and his grand-nephew Leandro, Leo for short, started working under him when he had just started out as Red Hood. They were good people who didn't mind acting as informants in exchange for Hood's protection. Nor did they mind the Jason Todd-Wayne showing up from time to time. As far as they were concerned he was another alley tyke grown up, now a paying customer and potential investor.

Last he heard from them was a month when Sammy officially passed on the reins to Leo and settled into retirement with his wife Avellana. Word had it Leo had been looking for a new hand around the shop and Jason had sent a couple of guys looking to get out of the henchman business his way knowing if Leo didn't hire 'em he might direct them to a cousin who would. He wondered vaguely if Leo ever did end up hiring someone. 'Well I suppose I'll find out soon enough' he thought pulling up into the workshop.

Jason pulled his helmet off, feeling a fresh breeze hit his face, and called out to the two men he saw working on a truck. One of them was examining something under the hood and the other working on the underside. He tucked his helmet under his arm but didn't get off the bike yet. He called out to the two guys.

"Oy Leo, compa! Is that you?"

The man inspecting the hood pulled his head out and gave Jason an impish grin.

"Oh man, Jasón is that you güey?!" The wiry, oil-slick man came over to greet him. Shaking his hand and pulling him into a half-hug.

" You here to get something fixed man?"

Jason slide off his bike and nodded back at it.

"Engine keeps stalling, I was hoping you could take a look," He then glanced back over to the man still working under the truck. " How's Ol' Sammy doing? I see you got the new hands you were looking for."

Leo grinned back, enthusiastic as ever. "Yeah man, he's new in town but good with his hands and a hard worker. Tio approved of him before he left. He and Tia are on vacation right now, went back to visit her family."

That's when a phone rang in the office. Leo sighed turning to Jason.

" Hey man I gotta take this but the new guy can totally get you set up. I'll be right back."

He turned and called out to the man under the truck "Ay chavo! We got a customer man! Come help 'im out while I get the phone!" before rushing of to the office.

The man finally pulled out from under the car and staring back at him were familiar blue eyes and a face smudged with oil. Danny grinned up at Jason as he began to walk over.

"Well hey there stranger, funny running into you here. Guess you must be friends with Leo and Sammy, huh? A real man of the people you are?"

" Uh, hey," Jason felt himself flush with embarrassment, his hand coming up to scratch his nape. " I mean yeah I guess so. I've known them almost as long as I've been able to walk so..."

" I'd like to thank you."

" Huh?" Jason met his eyes with a confused look.

" For finding and returning my groceries and Ellie's shuttle I mean. I got real lucky you happened to find them, otherwise that'd have half a paycheck down the drain. I'm grateful for what you did."

"It was no big deal," he said glancing away. He looked back to see a soft look on Danny's face.

" It meant a lot to me" he replied softly.

The two gazed into each others eyes for a moment before Danny turned his attention to the bike.

" You said the engine was stalling?"

Jason nodded in reply as Danny began to inspect the vehicle. After few minutes Leo emerged from the office just as Danny gave his verdict.

"It need a couple of new filters and an adjustment of the throttle position sensor and then it should be good as new."

" Perfecto!" Leo exclaimed walking out of the office. "You can handle that while I had out. Some guy in Chinatown needs a tow so I gotta take the tow truck and go."

He turned to address Jason. "You can trust Danny here with the bike, I wouldn't have hired him if he wasn't any good!"

He clapped Jason's shoulder before rushing out to his truck. Jason turned to Danny who shrugged and gave him a helpless grin.

" You got experience handling bikes?" Jason questioned.

" Sure do, I knew this one asshole back home who had a pretty sick ride. I ended making friends with him somehow and he taught me about 'em. I've already worked on a couple for Leo here too." Danny replied before walking over to the register.

" Here, I'll ring up an estimate for you. If you decide to leave her here with me I can have her done in an hour-hour and a half and you can pay when you come to collect her."

Jason decided he was willing to let Danny handle his bike. He figured he could just walk a block and grab some dinner at that Mexican-Caribbean fusion place nearby.

" I'll let you take care of her, like Leo said, he wouldn't have hired you if you weren't any good."

Now it was Danny's turn to flush. He fiddled around at the register before talking to Jason again.

" So can I get your number?"

" Huh-?!" Jason startled. Danny flushed even deeper and pointed at the pen and notepad on the counter.

" For the job! I’ll send you a call or text when it's done!"

Jason's face broke into a wicked grin. "Sure," he teased picking up a pen.

"Here's my work number," he said handing Danny a piece of paper. " And here-," he paused to write another number. "is my personal line. But that ones just for you neighbor. So don't go spreading it around," he winked.

He turned to walk out as he heard Danny spluttering behind him. And despite the expletives Danny called after him, he could do nothing to disguise the fondness in his voice.

Later that evening, Jason rode home on his newly serviced bike. He'd offered to give Danny a ride home but he still had an hour of his shift left and reassured him that he would be fine to make it home by himself. He took not of how well the bike was running. 'Purrs like a kitten' he thought. The voice in the back of his head once again returned to chime in 'Nothing like a man who's competent at his job'. Jason cursed the voice out, revving his bike and ripping down the street.

~~~

A few days couple of days later Jason receives a text:

"Hey its Danny. You run a soup kitchen with the Wayne Foundation right?"

Jason is instantly filled with concern. Did the Nightingales hit a financial pit fall? Was Danny hurt and unable to work? Did that creep stop paying his child support? He quickly wrote back to Danny

"Yeah why?"

"Ellie made friends with another girl in the building whose mom mentioned "soup night" was coming up and she came home and asked me about it.

I'm lucky that Leo pays well and Vlad's got plenty of money to cough up that we don't really have a need to go but I figured this might be a good learning opportunity to help Ellie understand both our and her friends situations.

I was hoping you had room for a few extra volunteers?"

Jason felt his worries melt away, just like his heart.

"We always have room for more volunteers

I'll text you the details"

That following Sunday Jason was organizing volunteers to set up the rec center he'd established last year step up for the soup kitchen. He was directing people with trays of food while his assistant/partner Irene ran through hygiene rules with some of the volunteer servers.

Behind him Jason felt the door open and a refreshing rush of wind filled the air as his newest recruits walked in. The daddy-daughter duo walk up to Jason and Danny gave him a little 2 fingered salute.

" Volunteers Danny and Ell reporting for duty!"

Jason gave them a soft smile.

" Hey guys, it’s nice to see you. This is Irene, my second-in-command. She'll run you through the serving protocols and get you ready to help. Danny you'll probably end up handling food while Ellie takes up resupplying utensils, plates, napkins and bottled drinks."

Danny smiled and ruffled his daughter's hair who giggled enthusiastically with a determined smile on her face.

" I think that'll work for us!" he said, turning to Irene who greeted them with a warm smile and led them over to her section.

About 15 minutes later Irene sidled up to him with a cheeky grin. Informing him he'd left Danny and Ellie with some of the other, more experienced volunteers.

" Sooooooo," Irene wiggled her eyebrows at him.

" Sooooooo- what?" he returned to her with a blank stare.

" When were you gonna tell me you had a crush on your new neighbor!"

Jason's face turned red as two more of their colleagues descent upon Jason having overheard what Irene said. Like sharks to blood in the water he swore.

First John, who was also one of Hood's men, whipped around and exclaimed. "What?! Jason you have a crush on your neighbor! What about Hood?!"

" For the 50th time Johnny, I'm not dating Hood. And its not a crush Irene!" Jason said in exasperation.

That's when Fern, the non-binary rec center manager, popped up behind him and said "What's this about Jason having a crush?"

Jason once again protested futilely that he didn't have a crush while Irene gleefully filled Fern in.

" Jason's totally got the hots for the hot, single, young dad who's volunteering with his daughter tonight! You should have seen how soft his face got when they showed up. And get this! Their actually neighbors and Jason's already been to their house for dinner!"

Fern whistled while Jason spluttered.

" How do you even know about that?!"

" Your crush let it spill while we were making small talk," she shrugged.

Jason groaned. None of them were gonna let this go.

"Come on you guys, its nearly time to start. Go get into your places," he insisted.

They relented but Irene shot him a mischievous look that told him he wouldn’t be escaping their teasing at a later date. Sigh.

Jason took his place in line manning the mashed potatoes. He felt someone nudge his shoulder and turned his head to see Danny standing next to him.

" Irene put me in charge of the green beans"

Oooh Irene we will be having words later!

"- and Ellie's been put on crowd control, which I think is just their way of saying she should take any kids done eating to the other room to play."

He smiled up at Jason, who of course smiled back.

"Lets do this" he said as the doors opened and their night of volunteering began.

It was a busy night so he and Danny didn't have much time to talk, but Jason learned a great deal just by observing. As his night went on he only saw more and more what amazing people the Nightingale's were. Thoughtful and kind without being condescending. Both Danny and Ellie were incredibly compassionate people.

Danny made an effort to be kind to anyone who came up to him and tried to connect with them in order to make them more comfortable. Ellie was a hit with the kids. She was strong-willed, outspoken and quickly took to speaking up for the shyer kids. She ended up amassing a little posse of her own. She made sure all her newfound friends got to try the foods they wanted and to get their turns with the toys in the game room.

As Jason continued to scoop out mashed potatoes and ignore suggestive glances and cheeky smiles from his friend he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and warmth. This was something he built through his efforts to help the Alley and he got to share it with two people he was growing to care about deeply. In turn not only had they shown an interest what he was trying to do here but actively sought to help others with him.

Jason took in the sight of Ellie leading a gang of smiling children. He made another sidelong glance at Danny, who was bonding with a young boy who said the green beans reminded him of a mythological creature. Privately he thought to himself that maybe Irene was on to something with her whole crush theory.

~~~ Thats all for this chapter. I do have some stuff planned for the rest of this section so look forward to that. Once again I welcome any comments or constructive criticism!

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vyl3tpwny · 1 year ago

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why it ourple

ok.

i'm going to tell you the story of how purple became my favourite colour. and then, where the name vylet pony came from.

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ch.1 the mace windu incident

once upon a time. I really liked star wars. i kind of still like star wars i guess. but when i was a kid, i REALLY liked star wars.

in my room, i had a mace windu poster.

i still can't find the exact poster. it looked something like this

mace windu was my fav star wars character for an inconceivably long time. with that, i also became fascinated with his purple lightsaber. nobody else had a purple lightsaber. i loved it. staring at that poster constantly made me really like the colour purple. ever since the poster started exerting its technicolour pressures and whimsies upon me, i became fixated on the colour purple. forever.

"hai!~ im mace windu and i loveee Videos!" - mace windu, star wars episode iii: revenge of the sith

———————————————————

ch. 2 the viny scratch era

fast forward like 7 years. i am in the my little pony fandom now. i am 13 years old. i really like vinyl scratch. she is pictured here:

my first online presence in the mlp community was as a vinyl scratch / dj pon3 roleplay account. for a good year, people called me vinyl and "vy".

however when it came time to start releasing music in the fandom, i couldn't go by vinyl scratch at the time. this name was already being used by the artist who currently goes by Scraton!

this is still one of my favourite songs by them:

youtube

anyway. i actually held a really insane, irrational grudge against scraton for being named "vinyl scratch" as a music artist before me. i got past that after a while, because i had to stop being 13 first. i stopped being 13 and eventually fell in love with their music and we became friends later after!

but it's 2013 and i can't be vinyl scratch anymore. people already called me "vy" because of being a vinyl scratch persona.

so.

———————————————————

ch. 3 it's vylet time-wait is that can opener? CANNI?

it started on december 28, 2012. i posted to my then-instagram account this image:

you may recognize this as my oc canni. here's their reworked look in the 2022 album (10 years later) can opener's notebook: fish whisperer (illustrated by @astroeden):

can opener's original name was "ultra vylet". their colour scheme was originally intended to be the inverse of vinyl scratch's, as a sort of strange protest to not being able to be vinyl scratch. i was like ok. well if i cant be vinyl scratch, i am going to make a character that swaps the main colours. within a few months of "ultra vylet" existing, i discarded the design in favour of a completely different one:

this would be the only time vylet consistently had purple in her design until 2018 or so.. lol.

then. on april 15, 2013, i posted this to my instagram:

i had essentially combined three things:

The fact the people called me "vy'

The fact that my favourite colour is purple (violet)

The fact that I wanted to be vinyl scratch (dj pon3) before

———————————————————

ch. 4 vylet pony ≠ vinyl scratch

that is to say, i never really put a lot of thought into "vylet pony" as a name. i just made it when i was 14 and now i am going to be 25 soon. will i keep vylet pony as a name forever? not sure. do i take great pride in its insanely snarky origin? absolutely.

after i had decided firmly on "vylet pony" as a name — after dropping the "3" from it — i made a new instagram account. the very first thing i posted to it was this:

illustrated by my friend, shade.

now that looks slightly vylet-like, design-wise, oc-wise. oh. but now she is grey and black? ok.

she stopped being purple from 2013-2018.

here is how her design progressed through the years:

the first one is by my then-partner sara. this is when vylet's cutiemark was still an upside down music note, reflected from "ultra vylet" / can opener's original design. i'll show how it became a puzzle piece next.

the second one is by shade

the third one is by chibadeer

the fourth one is by astroeden

———————————————————

ch. 5 the puzzle piece

to this day, i still cannot find the fanart in question. but over instagram, someone asked to draw fanart of my pony. in doing so, they misconstrued the shape of the upside down music note as a puzzle piece, like this:

i've been looking forever for the original fanart/fanartist that made this mistake. because ever since that art, i just stuck with it anyway. i like puzzles and puzzle games. i'm also a puzzling and enigmatic person. and the puzzle piece can go into so many different things. all sorts of problem solving is like a puzzle. music fits neatly into that category in my opinion. so because of its intrigue and ability to mean so many different things, i just went with it. i never looked back.

———————————————————

ch. 6 that is the history of the colour purple and vylet pony character design

i hope this answers the question "why it ourple"!

#vyop #my little pony #mlp

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weixuldo · 11 months ago

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Enigma// ch 27

anakin x reader

A/N: Heyyyy- this one is pretttty long lol (a range of emotions for your reading pleasure) Hopefully u guys enjoy!! Also I am not an ordained minister and have never been to a courthouse wedding- so just keep that in mind if I totally butchered the process lollll!! as always, thanks for reading :)

NSFW

Courthouse weddings were not on your bucket list this year, but if its with Ani- you'll be alright.

warnings: cursing, mentions of pregnancy, afab! reader, marriage?, ani is a disabled veteran, topics of death, Vaginal sex, oral (f!recieving), cumplay (kind of?), liver failure?, depictions of pain

____________________________

You lightly squeezed Anakin’s upper arm with excitement as the officiant entered the small room. He was an older man, but he wasn’t the stereotypical short, bumbling bureaucrat; instead he was rather tall, in shape, and filled out his pressed suit nicely. He seemed to have himself all together.

He eyed the two of you suspiciously (he probably thought the two of you were a joke). After all, the two of you were nowhere near as dressy as him.

You wore a simple white dress you found at a thrift store you frequented. It has a lacy trim and a beautiful silk trail; honestly it was crazy that you found this in a size that would fit your pregnant belly in such a pinch.

Anakin told you he would have bought you a new dress from a boutique if you wanted, but you respectfully declined; you really liked the appeal of a secondhand dress- nothing wrong with clothing that told a story and now you got to add some new memories to the dress.

Anakin wore the only suit he owned, a plain dark blue coat and trousers with a white button up. Though, it was definitely too big for him now since he had lost so much weight. He never bought a new one because he always hated wearing suits (too many ceremonies in his full dress for the army), plus most suits made it hard for him to maneuver his limbs due to the cut and the tightness.

Whenever you were a little girl, you never expected the wedding of your dreams would be in a courthouse- but being here with Anakin was all your heart could ask for.

The officiator walked around to the bench and set his leather briefcase down lightly, before taking a few papers out. Anakin placed a stiff hand on your forearm and gave you a small smile.

“How are you doing, beautiful?” he whispered, his words tickling your ear.

WIth a shy giggle, you responded “I can’t wait to be your wife, Ani”.

“Alright- do we have everyone who should be present in attendance?” the tall man in front of you asked.

You turned behind you to check if Ben, Satine, and Ahsoka were still back there (where else would they have gone?). Once you gave them a quick smile, you turned back to the man and nodded.

“Perfect. My name is Mace Windu, and I will be officiating this marriage- I am to inform you that I am an ordained minister by law and every document you sign here will be officially binding. If you have any objections before we proceed, speak now or forever hold your peace. Shall we begin?” the man spoke before taking a moment to scan the room.

“No objections? Very well. We will begin the ceremony.”

Mace spoke so formally and so precisely that it felt more like you were being read your rights rather than being wed- but either way, you couldn't be happier.

Sadly your city’s courthouse didn’t allow for personalized vows (you had no idea why), so the ceremony was rather short. Once Windu had gone through the formalities and such it was your turn to answer.

“Anakin Skywalker, do you take this woman to be your lawfully-wedded wife”.

Anakin turned towards you and held his gloved hands out for you to hold. A soft, yet all consuming look of adoration consumed his features as he gazed upon your beauty. You were the most radiant woman he had ever set his sights on- how were you about to be his wife?

Anakin’s “I do” came out more as a heartfelt sigh than a statement, but that made it even more special.

His smile lines were evident around on his face as his blue eyes admired you; he was a little self conscious about the “wrinkles” but you always reminded him they told so much more than age- they told the story of his life; his joy, his despair, his pain, his laughter- they made him who he was.

“And do you, f/n l/n, take this man to be your lawfully-wedded husband?” Mace asked with a small smile.

“I do” you delivered with your whole heart.

“With the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride”

Without hesitation, Anakin slipped his hand against your cheek and brought your lips to his. Never had a kiss been so dizzying- passion, lust, love, excitement, longing, and sadness all combined into one.

You reveled in the feeling of your plush lips against his.

You nearly forgot you were in public when your friends started to clap and make their way towards the front of the room. Mace set out the official document and handed you an expensive fountain pen for you to sign with.

You forgot all thoughts of his judgment once he handed you the pen with a smile, “congratulations, Mrs. Skywalker”.

You felt the butterflies in your stomach- Mrs. Skywalker…. Wow.

Anakin wrapped a loving arm around your back and pressed another kiss to your temple.

“I love you so much sweetheart, more than anything”

“You are my everything, Ani” you responded with another kiss.

___________________________________

“Are you sure you want to do this, princess?” Anakin asked shakily as you led him to your shared bedroom.

“I’m completely sure, Ani”

Ever since that first kiss as a married couple, you and Anakin had both been pining after each other the whole day; of course you had each other now, but you wanted that intimacy that was expected on a wedding night.

You didn’t ache for him purely from lust, rather it was an all consuming desire to be one with your lover, you wanted to be able to physically channel the love you so desperately felt.

“Please, Ani… I want you inside of me- I want you”

Your sweet and sensual tone made him shiver; how could he deny his beautiful little wife? Anakin bit his bottom lip hesitantly and nodded as he began to remove his slacks.

You relaxed back onto the mattress and released a sigh, “thank you my love”.

His sandy locks fell in front of his eyes as he gazed back at you, “Anything for you”.

Once he removed his pants, you helped him with his shirt; he laid on his stomach and placed his face between your plush thighs.

You were dizzy with anticipation as his bright blue eyes gazed upon your aching core- the two of you hadn’t been intimate in this way since the baby and all that time was taking a toll on you.

Obviously the two of you agreed to be gentle for the sake of the baby, but deep down all you wanted was for your newly-wed husband to fuck you untill you couldn’t speak right.

His stiff, cold hands held your in-place by your hips and he pushed his face right into you. Anakin’s skillful tongue swirled around your sensitive bud as he made his way up and down your delicate folds.

Unintentionally, you arched your back which caused your pelvic bone to bump his nose into your clit; an odd sensation that made you jolt. The strong cartilage pressed nicely against your swollen clit. Maker, was there any part of this man that you didn’t love?

“O-oh Ani” you moaned.

He started slowly but as your breathing began to quicken, so did his motions. He wasn’t really able to maneuver his mechanical digits in the way he would have liked to, so his mouth was very skilled.

He lapped up your sweet juices as he rutted his painfully hard erection into the plush mattress. He could get off by your reactions to his tongue alone. You were gorgeous.

He eyed your round stomach and for some reason that only charged his lust. You were carrying his child- his.

Anakin never really saw the appeal of children when he was younger (probably also because they were such a big factor for him and Padme), but now- now he saw the appeal. He saw all of it.

Though the child was an accident, it was born from the love and passion you and Anakin had for each other, this child would be there to love you when he’d be gone- this child you carried held his future.

His head spun with all consuming love for you- his wife.

Maker, he never thought he would get another chance at love after his accident all those years ago…

“A-Ani! I’m close” you whimpered, as your thighs trembled on either side of his face.

Your shaky voice snapped him out of his thoughts and he paused to kiss your sensitive bud before he helped you reach your anticipated release.

“Let go for me baby” he instructed softly.

And you did just that; stars flooded your vision and your brain went fuzzy. You couldn’t remember the last time you came (probably before the baby).

You allowed yourself a moment to gather yourself; Your chest heaved as you sat upright to draw him into a sloppy kiss. His sandy locks were all disheveled and his cheeks were rosy- he was perfect.

“Ani- that was… amazing” you huffed, still riding out your high.

His lips quirked upwards and he placed a hand on your cheek, “Anything for you, my love”.

He never hesitated to make you blush. You looked down to see his large bulge straining against his boxers.

“Oh, Anakin…” you cooed as you ghosted your fingers across his rock hard shaft.

He shut his eyes and quivered at your touch. You leaned forward and pulled back the elastic waistband to get a peek at his blushing member.

His velvety tip was bright red and weeping with precum; you gave it a soft kiss and collected a bead of his salty cum.

“F-fuck” he shuddered.

You began to tug his boxers off; as you did you kissed down his hip bone, v-line, and pelvis. You pulled the thin fabric over the threshold of his human and prosthetic legs until they were finally off.

His heavy dick slapped against his lower stomach; his one vein prominently pulsing on display for your pleasure. You gently dragged your fingers along the ridged scars that peppered his cock (they added a different level of sensation when they brushed against your walls).

You were about to take him into your mouth when he stopped you.

“Wait- I want to be in you” he said breathlessly.

You knew what he meant, but you felt like teasing him- “Well, technically you would be” you smirked.

He exhaled and playfully shook his head, “I didn’t know I married a comedian”.

You giggled and sat back up, “alright Ani, where do you want me?”.

The routine question was not because he liked to order you around the bedroom (well, sometimes he did), it was more of a courtesy question you habitually asked. Anakin was limited in the amount of positions he could pull off and some days certain ones were easier than others.

“Lie on your back” he said and you complied.

He grabbed a few pillows and stacked them under the small of your back so that you were more arched (a personal favorite of yours). He kneeled his prosthetics on the bed right against the backs of your thighs.

Anakin felt light headed with lust as he caressed your breasts and then down your swollen belly. His weeping cock was pulsing in anticipation as it stood proudly, eager to enter your plush pussy.

“Alright sweetheart” he breathed before slowly pushing himself into your.

You gasped as his bulbous head made its way into your cunt.

“Are you alright?” he asked quickly (and worriedly).

You nodded and asked him to continue.

Slowly, inch-by-inch, he made his way into you. You gripped the bedsheets and tossed your head back in pleasure.

Anakin was already feeling indescribably good, but when he finally bottomed out, he couldn’t suppress the guttural moan that escaped him.

“Feel good?” you asked him with a lazy smile.

He nodded vigorously “f-feels so good baby- s-so good” he babbled as he gently rutted his hips into you.

You patted his thigh to get his attention, “You can move more Ani- you won’t hurt the baby” you coached.

He clenched his jaw and nodded once more before he slowly dragged his length across your plush walls. The slow cadence of his hips made you shudder- the contrast from his fast and precise tongue to the slow but filling feeling of his cock only added to your overstimulation.

“Fuck…. you look so beautiful baby- my beautiful- ahh- m-my beautiful wife” he said.

“All yours Ani”

He groaned at your sentiment and began to quicken his pace- you felt so damn good; he was already feeling his release coming?

He watched your swollen breasts bounce as he thrusted in and out of you- he couldn’t take it anymore. Anakin shut his eyes and tossed his head back,

“I’m so- I’m so close baby” he almost cried (he too, had not cum in a while).

He snapped his hips into yours, making you yelp in pleasure, “F-fuck, ‘m sorry princess” he apologized before he moaned once more.

“I’m gonna cum! I’m- I- ‘m cumming. I’m cumming!” he stuttered as his body shook violently with the orgasm that ripped through him.

You gasped at the warm thrust of cum that shot into your already sensitive pussy. His thick ropes painted your insides as he continued to empty himself into you.

Both of you panted heavily and he began to unsheathe himself from your pussy. His dick was coated in a marvelous mixture of both of your highs… a heavenly sight.

You sat up and helped rest Anakin against the headboard before you retrieved his inhaler. You administered a few puffs before his breathing had calmed down.

“I don’t think you understand how indescribably in love I am with you” he huffed as his beautiful blue eyes looked deeply into yours.

You smiled and blushed a stray curl behind his ear, “I understand completely”.

________________________________________

You snuggled close to Anakin under the warm covers after the two of you had gotten cleaned up and took a shower.

You couldn’t believe you were actually married to the man you loved more than anyone else. Sure the two of you had got off on the wrong foot and had your rough patches, but look how far you've come.

Sleep was finally washing over you when you felt Anakin tense beside you. He was probably dreaming- he was plagued by constant nightmares from his past.

You began to brush your fingers through his hair (something you did to calm him when he would dream), but when his body jolted and he curled onto his side, you knew it wasn’t a nightmare.

“Anakin?!” you exclaimed when he started thrashing and groaning.

You sat up and reached for the light. He was clutching his right side with the arm he kept on at night- it was his liver.

His eyes were screwed shut as he braced himself against the bed. He wailed when you helped him upright, you could see his veins pulsing; every inch of him was screaming out for relief.

“Ani, I’m going to go get your pills, ok? Are you alright here?” you said hurriedly, your own heart rate was through the roof.

He just cried and shook his head, “Please- do-don’t leave me” he managed through gritted teeth.

Your eyes softened, “Ani, the pills will help, just let me get them for you- please?” you pleaded.

He stayed silent and finally nodded.

“Ok, I’ll be right back” you said before kissing him on the forehead.

You raced to the kitchen counter where his pile of pills sat, you rummaged through the bottles looking for the pain pills the doctor prescribed. Once you finally had it you dashed back to the bedroom.

Anakin had laid back down on his side and his face was scrunched in pain. You rushed to his side and pulled him up so that he was lying against your chest. His grimace was painful to look at and he drool had begun to pool on the area he had lied down on.

“Oh, Ani” you whispered as he trembled in your hold.

You helped him take his meds and comforted him as the feeling began to pass. He finally drifted off after about an hour or so of in-and-out pain.

Once you laid him back down, you walked out to the living room and sat on the couch. You debated switching on the TV to mindlessly view some stupid show to attempt to occupy your racing mind, but you ended up just staring at the black screen.

Before you knew it, salty tears were streaming down your face. Why did Anakin have to endure this? Hadn’t he gone through enough?

You thought about how happy you were all day and how much you wanted a life with him-but now this? Nothing but a bitter reminder of the limited time you actually had with your husband.

What hurt the most was there was nothing you could do...

nothing you could do, but wait.

***

a/n: so sorry this ended on such a somber note but I told ya- it was a rollercoaster in here hahah- also ik courthouse weddings take more planning, but for the sake of the story- we’re gonna pretend Anakin had been planning this and compiling the documents so that if you said yes (which you did) the two of you would be able to be wed as soon as you signed ur name on the respective dotted line :)

taglist : @dnamht @sxoulohvn @angeelcoree @wtf-andys @httpeachesblog @katsukiswrld @jetiikote @poisonedsultana @imarimone12 @fallinlovewithevil @sythe-skywalker

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jane-the-virgin0 · 4 months ago

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Knocking at death's door (ch. 2)

summary: ~right before ROTS~ you're the Princess of a foreign land, about to be Queen. your father, although unknown to you, is Palpatine (pls suspend your disbelief), and you have force lightning powers. your powers have been sensed by the Grand Council and they know that you'll be recruited to the dark side, so they send Obi-Wan and Anakin to kill you before you can be used as a weapon. your life is doomed from the start, but Obi-Wan can't complete his mission.

pairing: Obi-Wan/reader

rating: 18+, minors DNI

warnings: violence (it is Star Wars), eventual smut, fluff, angst, death, age gap (reader is 24)

chapters: 1 ✧ 2/?

w/c: ~1237 (oops sorry not longer lol)

a/n: i've decided i'm gonna switch POV's every chapter:) hope u like!

˚✧ ﾟ. ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚✧ ﾟ. ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚✧ ﾟ. ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚✧ ﾟ. ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚✧ ﾟ. ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚✧ ﾟ. ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡

“Master, must we have to act as a bodyguard for yet another princess?” Anakin whined.

“We are not bodyguards, have you been listening? We are to pose as bodyguards to gain the princess’ trust, then we are going to kill her.”

“Why can we not go kill her now?”

“Patience, Anakin. We must observe her and see how strong her sith powers are. If we were to engage her in combat immediately, we run the risk of being overpowered.”

“But-“

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan said, exasperated with his young padawan.

He directed their cruiser towards the distant planet. He too was incredulous about the fact that Mace Windu, and the rest of the Grand Council, would send their Jedi on a mission to one of the farthest reaches of the galaxy to kill a no-name princess. But if it must be done for good of galaxy, then Obi-Wan was willing to do it.

Still, he mused to himself, how did a long-lost daughter of Palpatine hide under the radar for so long? And being only a few years older than Anakin? If she was as half as strong as Anakin, they would be in trouble.

Sighing, he prepared the craft for landing.

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“During this transfer of power, we are here to protect the princess and offer guidance for traveling to and from the Senate.”

“Wonderful!” The Queen exclaims, gracefully eating her plate of fresh fruit.

“Y/N? Anything to add?” She says pointedly.

“…No. Not really, your Grace.”

Obi-Wan eyes the Princess. She picks at her plate, mixing all the food together into one big blob.

“We are merely here to keep you safe, Princess, do not fear of us getting in your way.” Obi-Wan adds.

The Princess eyes him warily, her body language like that of a stray cat, coiled back and ready to attack if needed.

“Nonsense! She will be fine- in fact, she will be pleasant and accompany you on a tour throughout the palace before our court convenes.” The Queen says, standing up from the table, her handmaiden rushing to pull the chair back for her.

Obi-Wan looked back at the Princess, catching her throw a deathly glare at the Queen.

He felt exhausted already. His frustration with being sent on a mission that was proving to be a lot more troublesome than originally thought - himself and Anakin really should be able to kill her in a week, but with her stubbornness, it would likely take longer to get her to trust them - combined with having to wrangle Anakin like normal was beginning to put him in a sour mood.

Obi-Wan stood up, gently bowing to the Queen. He puts a hand on Anakin’s shoulder, interrupting his focus on stuffing his face full of fresh fruit and bread.

Anakin’s chair squeaks back as he rushes to stand.

“Thank you, your Grace.” He says.

Obi-Wan nearly rolls his eyes.

“If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you around and then to your quarters.”

Y/N stands up and begins to walk down the hall. Obi-Wan and Anakin trail after her.

“It is a beautiful palace, Princess. What do you know of its construction?” Obi-Wan asks, attempting to make conversation.

Y/N shrugs.

Anakin attempts to hold back a snort.

“I cannot say. All I know is that my grandmother, the Queen before my mother, helped to build the garden that helps to feed everyone in the castle. It is located in the back, if you are ever curious and want to meander through.” She says, keeping her gaze forward.

“Do you ever leave the palace?” Anakin asks, sauntering up to walk next to Y/N.

Y/N pays him no mind. “Rarely, only for special occasions like festivals and crowning ceremonies.”

Anakin makes eye contact with Obi-Wan, considering what she said.

“Here is the library-“ Y/N says, pointing towards an open door.

“And down the hall is the ballroom.”

“You have parties here often?”

“Anakin.”

For the first time, the Princess laughs. It’s a soft laugh, barely audible, but there nonetheless.

He feels himself smile in response.

“Yes, actually. We host the court and their families, as well as any important families in towns across the realm. Although they meet with the Queen for business, we try to keep them happy with dancing, music, and alcohol once a month.”

“When’s the next one?”

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan sighed.

“In a few days time, actually. Presuming you are…still here, you might be able to experience it.”

They walked in silence down the hall and up the stairs.

“These two rooms here are for you. The one down the hall and to the right is mine.” She points at three rooms.

“I will take the first watch tonight, Princess.” Obi-Wan says.

She halts.

“First watch?”

“Yes, we’re here to protect you, so we’re going to watch over your room while you sleep.” Anakin says, shrugging.

“Absolutely not.” Y/N says sharply, her demeanor now even more frosty.

“I’m afraid that cannot be helped, Princess. We have promised the Queen that we would keep you safe-“

“I’ve never had someone guard my room before! I am not to be a prisoner in my own palace!”

Her angry words matched the fire in her eyes. Before either of them could respond, she marched into her room and slammed the door.

Anakin turned to Obi-Wan.

“Still think I’m annoying?” He grins and walks back the way they came.

Prisoner in her own room? They were sent here to make sure no one got in and tried to take even more advantage of her Sith powers. But what if they needed to be more concerned with her getting out?

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Obi-Wan stands outside the Princess’s room, the air from the hall window blowing a frigid breeze onto his body. He wraps his robes tighter around his torso.

The Princess claimed she liked to sleep with the windows open, much to the disdain of Obi-Wan. While he saw no reason to believe her untrustworthy, he made sure to let her know how much of a security risk it could be.

“Princess, something could sneak into your bedchambers and harm you, without us knowing.” He had said.

She scoffed.

“My window merely backs up to the back courtyard. Do you expect a stray fenner’s rock to harbor such ill will for me that it climbs my brick walls and strangles me in my sleep?”

“Princess, I sincerely care for your safety-”

“Enough!” She said, and slammed the door behind her.

If he did not know any better, he would liken her attitude to Anakin's.

Unfortunately, she had yet to do anything that would raise suspicion, and going to the Queen to tattle on the Princess would only make her like him less, so he was forced to trust her.

Anakin was in bed, resting until it was his shift, which was not for a while. Obi-Wan was trained to have his guard up at all times, after all, a Jedi must be sharp and prepared for anything.

…Which was why when he heard a slight rustling outside the window, he moved slowly, lightsaber at the ready. Taking a quick peek outside, he saw a flash of white and the Princess’ hair darting through a bush.

Mentally cursing at himself, he slides through the window and down the short drop onto the ground below.

Following after Y/N, he had no time to think about why he really let her get away with keeping your window open in the first place.

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wardenparker · 1 year ago

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The Viper's Bride - ch 14

Oberyn Martell x female reader x Ellaria Sand x OC Co-written with @absurdthirst

The second Prince of Dorne has lived under the illusion that he would not be forced to wed for his entire life. He has enough lovers and illegitimate children to make him a legend across Westeros, and the love of his soulmate Ellaria Sand to content him. But a contract between his brother and a lord from the north will catapult him into a match that may prove to be as complicated as it is intriguing. Especially when he learns that you already have a soulmate of your own.

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 12.8k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: terrible parents, age gap 10+ years, arranged marriage, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol, internalized homophobia. Reader is described as having hair long enough to braid. This is a MMFF polycule, folx. Get on board or don't click to keep reading. Pregnancy!* Threats, anger, threats of violence (specifically), classism, degrading language. FFM threesome, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, pregnant sex, rough sex, cum eating. Summary: An announcement, a decision, a reaction, and a development. After the events of this day, none of your lives will be the same. Notes: This is, of course, an au. So we have adapted the events of season four to be as true to the plot as possible while also working for the story we want to tell. I hope you enjoy!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13

Each step forward this morning feels heavy to Raeden, who is amused at his own surprise over how much he wishes he was still in bed with his bride. He and Margaery had almost fallen into bed upon the group's return to the keep last night, taken aback by the shock of the charge in their first kiss as man and wife. This morning Leyth had woken them last and left the room with an expression made of pure amusement, finding the couple wrapped in each other instead of the blankets had been a boon of practicality. Any question of the marriage's consummation could be answered by the first-hand witness account of your maid.

"Mace Tyrell will be angry, shouting." Oberyn reminds him, smirking slightly at the expression on the other man's face. Margaery Tyrell – Sunstone's – cunt must be magical to make the man forego his duty with such a woeful expression on his face. Although the idea of having everyone together had been sweet, it was necessary to establish the legality of the marriage without any dispute first. A night with all five of their group in bed would come soon enough. "However, in his heart, he is a coward." He snorts. "Grasping at favors like a rat and scampering away when heavy boots thud around the table."

“It is not Mace Tyrell I worry about,” Raeden admits. Though he is not precisely keen to inform his unwitting father-in-law of the elopement, Raeden has enough wits to understand that Olenna Tyrell is the true head of his wife’s family. “Tywin will not be pleased to lose out on the Tyrell fortune.”

"Tywin thinks that you are my little pet," Oberyn grunts in amusement. "Perhaps a lover I have taken out of boredom and bestow favors upon." He shakes his head. "It is why you have been allowed in the Small Council sessions, he believes that you are soon gone and will no longer be of consequence." Oberyn knows his reputation and what the elder Lannister would think, using it and him for his own ends. Now there is no question of Raeden's position and it is another stab at the Lannisters. This time in their pockets.

“Yet, I am the only one you have not fucked yet.” Chuckling ruefully at that fact, Raeden walks steadily beside Oberyn and shakes his head as he goes. It is only a matter of time for them, and Oberyn has been respectful of Raeden’s past troubles with male lovers.

"I have not fucked your pretty wife." He points out, smirking slightly as they walk shoulder to shoulder. "Tell me, how was her cunt last night? Was it tight and wet for you?"

“All the stable boys and knights and soldiers all moaning for their queen at night would not have been disappointed.” Despite chuckling, though, Raeden puts one hand into his pocket as they walk and fiddles with his wife’s favourite handkerchief. She had given it to him this morning as a token of proof if her father did not believe what they had done. He has a wife. That truth still sits foreign on Raeden’s tongue.

"Then I do not feel guilty for having both of your soulmates on my face and cock last night." Oberyn teases, knowing full well both men wear the marks and in a strange way are also bound to each other. He catches the tender expression that flashes across Raeden's face and understands it. How that he has made his own vows and discovers that he does not dread it as much as he thought he would. "It will be a good union, perhaps a loving one in time." He predicts, wrapping his arm around the new husband's broad shoulders. "I have a good feeling about this."

Down the hall and around a corner, the other two judges, such as they are, are already waiting in the throne room when Oberyn and Raeden stroll in with broad smiles and good humor. “Oberyn.” Tywin Lannister raises one eyebrow in surprise. “You are early.”

“Early because there is a matter that needs to be discussed before the meeting and trial.” He announces before he looks to Raeden. “Lord Sunstone has taken a wife.”

“How…fortunate.” Tywin cannot see immediately why this matter is of any concern to him, but he forces his expression into a thin-lipped smile and nods to the elevated bastard. “You are to be congratulated, then?”

“Many thanks.” Raeden knows that sentiment will be soured when they find out who he married. He turns towards Mace and reaches into his pocket. “I hope there will be no harsh feelings for the quickness of the marriage, but your daughter is safe and content in my chambers.” He tells the man as he pulls out the handkerchief.

“My daughter?” Mace huffs out a condescending laugh of ridicule without so much as glancing at the fabric in the bastard noble’s hand. “You must be a greater dullard than I thought, boy.” Bolstered by Tywin standing just over his shoulder, Mace Tyrell knows no fear. “Margaery is a queen, not a bed-warming whore. Some girl has tricked you into a fool’s vow claiming to be a Tyrell.”

“It is true.” Oberyn bristles at the insult, far more than even Raeden does, since he was the one to appoint him as a lord. “I witnessed their vows myself and the former queen eagerly spoke her vows before the maester and the Seven.”

“It is not possible.” The man’s round eyes widen before instantly squinting, and he bolts forward to snatch at the token that Raeden keeps just out of his reach. Margaery’s monogram is unmistakable in the corner, done up in green thread by her own mother’s hand. “It is not possible!” Mace howls, his face turning deep pink and then red as confusion turns to fury. If his daughter has actually eloped, he is ruined. “This is a trick!”

“Miracles abound.” The prince snorts, amused by the older man’s tantrum. “If it is a trick, then it was a vivid one, considering my servant saw your daughter using Lord Raeden as her personal pillow this morning, still perched on his cock in sleep.” He smirks as he looks towards Lord Tywin. “Tired herself out on her husband’s cock it seems.”

Lannister, who has pursed his lips once so far but said nothing, watches with careful eyes as Mace storms around the room in circles for a moment before doubling back to him with drawn terror on his greasy little face. “It cannot have been allowed.” He insists, staring up at the much taller Tywin in horror. “I did not allow it! I would never allow it! She will be brought to heel and returned to you, Tywin. As promised.”

“And break the laws of the kingdom?” Instead of Oberyn speaking up, it is Raeden. “Once a marriage is blessed by the maesters and consummated, it negates any contracts or agreements made prior.” He reminds the Small Council members. “You no longer have the power to do so, Lord Tyrell.”

“You are a flea.” Mace Tyrell may be half of Raeden Sunstone’s height, but he points a finger up at him like he’s scolding a street urchin. “You are a boil on my ass and I will see you in a cell right next to Tyrion’s for this!” With a face redder than a ripe cherry, Mace Tyrell storms from the chamber headed for the gods-only-know-where, muttering and flailing his hands all the way.

“That went very well.” Oberyn chuckles. “Don’t you think?” He asks Raeden, knowing the man is slightly flustered at the ire of his new father-in-law.

“It certainly went differently than expected,” admits Raeden, who had prepared himself to be attacked bodily if Mace reacted poorly.

“It was unwise, Oberyn.” Tywin warns him in a grave voice. “Most unwise.”

“What? Only the Lannisters can make deals that benefit them?” Oberyn asks, lifting a brow haughtily. “I think that you are upset your golden goose has been plucked.”

Tywin’s thin lips become a nearly flat line and he narrows his eyes at Oberyn. “It goes without saying that your place on the Small Council has been rescinded for this stunt.”

The response is not what Tywin must have expected. With a causal shrug, Oberyn smirks. “That is agreeable with me.” He hums and narrows his eyes slightly. “You meet too early for me.”

“You have stuck your nose and your pet mongrel in where they do not belong.” Heat rises in Lannister’s voice, a low rumble that would have most others trembling instantly. “What good do you think the throne will ever do for Dorne now?”

“Why do you think Dorne needs the throne?” His amused demeanor drops and his eyes darken dangerously. “We have not bent the knee. Do not forget, Lannister, that you need us to be the Seven Kingdoms.” He growls, the threat clear in his voice.

“What invasion could be withstood? What negotiations will end in your favour? What mercy will your people find when they are left without the resources they rely on from the North?” The steady rolling rumble of Tywin Lannister’s voice echoes through the room, bouncing off each wall and making it sound as though he were everywhere. “Whatever you promised Margaery, rescind it now. Your bastard’s bride-napping may yet go unnoticed.”

“You wouldn’t.” Oberyn counters. “Because it would be admitting that your Lords are not capable of being managed.” He tells him. “That your hold on the throne is not as iron fisted as you would have it believed.” His own blood is starting to boil now, the insults to Dorne, the threats, pissing him off. “We will simply turn our trade to Bravos,” he counters. “Our spices and silks will be sent across the Narrow Sea. Dorne is not threatened by you, or your armies.”

******

The rising voices, the tension, the anxieties in the air, the building anger means more things than just another spat between the Martells and Lannisters. It means tensions rising for the whole of the Seven Kingdoms. It could go as far as war, if things turn violent. But more immediately, for the man awaiting yet another day of his trial in a cell several yards down the hallway, it means a heighten possibility of certain death very soon. If his father is angry and the opinion of his trial’s only reasonable judge is moot? Then Tyrion Lannister is headed for the executioner’s block. Tyrion stretches as close as his chains will allow, trying to hear as much of the conversation as possible.

“That don’t sound good for you.” The portly, slovenly jailer had been another insult for Tyrion. Someone who could barely see his dick over his fat belly couldn’t possibly chase down a healthy, whole man. But Tyrion wasn’t a normal sized man. And the guard set to escort him to and from the trail reminded him of that.

Tyrion’s eyes roll so far back in his head that they almost disappear, and he huffs. No, it does not sound good for him at all. “Hardly anything involving my father is ever good for me,” he says instead.

“Fighting with that Dornish pig.” He grunts. “Nothing good comes out of Dorne but the whores.”

“I would advise you not to say that within earshot of the Red Viper,” Tyrion advises rather drolly.

“What’s he gonna do? Fuck me to death?” The jailer snorts, his amusement making him cough until he hacks up a thick wad of phlegm that he spits at Tyrion’s feet. “I ain’t a goat.”

Grimacing animatedly only to end up rolling his eyes at himself this time, Tyrion gains a half-inch more toward the bars of his cell and leans over. His father’s threats are clear and the prince’s replies are steadily hushed, although his tone is clear enough. “It is time,” he lies, turning to the guard and gesturing. “Bring me in.”

“I didn’t hear nothing.” The guard protests but Tyrion snorts.

“My father will have your head removed if you fail to do your duty.” He reminds him, making the man grimace. He has no love for Tywin Lannister, but he doesn’t want to die because of him.

“On your feet!” He barks, grinning as Tyrion struggles to his feet in the heavy chains.

The usual ruckus and chaos of onlookers is absent when the guard lumbers past the end of the hallway and into the throne room and he grunts as he shoves Tyrion forward. “What is this?” Tywin barks out, barely even glancing down at his youngest child.

Oberyn hums in amusement, settling back in his chair. While Tywin may have kicked him off the Small Council, he cannot kick him off the trial now, and he knows it. “It is your son.” He muses. “You do not recognize him? Perhaps because he is covered in filth and shit from where you threw him in the dungeon.”

"And a good morning to you, too, your Grace." As much of a farce as this entire trial may be, Tyrion is still glad of Prince Oberyn's presence in the proceedings. The trouble will be if his father decides to bring a swift end to things and ignore the prince's opinions in the verdict.

"What is this?" Tywin repeats, annoyance building on top of anger in his tone. "What is it you want, Tyrion? Unless you have come to confess, I will not hear anything from you."

"Yes, Father. I'm guilty." Tyrion's tone is not one of dismissal or of anger, but one of a measured response, and that catches Oberyn's attention. "Guilty. Is that what you want to hear?"

Startled, Tywin's eyebrows knit together. "You admit you poisoned the king?"

"No, of that I'm innocent." Tyrion may be many things, but the least of them all is a fool. "I'm guilty of a far more monstrous crime. I am guilty of being a dwarf."

Wholly annoyed with his son's dramatics, Tywin huffs so deeply that he nearly implodes. "You are not on trial for being a dwarf."

"Oh, yes, I am. I've been on trial for that my entire life." Tyrion contends seriously.

Tywin pinches the bridge of his nose. "If you have nothing to say in your defense, you will go back to your cell until it is time for the trial to begin."

"I did not kill Joffrey." Tyrion holds up both hands in a sort of show of innocence, but also defense. He is headed toward a point, and he will make it sooner rather than later. "I wish I was the monster you think I am. I wish I had the stark fortitude of will to do away so decisively with my enemies. I would gladly give my life to see that justice done. But I will not give my life for Joffrey's murder, and I know I'll get no justice here." Studying his father's face intently and seeing the intrigue there, Tyrion is sure there is a chance this may work. "So I will let the Gods decide my fate." A sure, steady breath enters his body and he squares his shoulders. "I demand a trial by combat."

Oberyn leans forward, intrigued by the notion and it is obvious from the ridged disapproval on his face, that another of Tywin’s schemes that has not gone his way, his careful plotting unraveled by the son he had always secretly despised.

"You know who Cersei will appoint her Champion." Tywin nearly twitches as the idea settles into his bones, disliking every moment of his cursed imp son's clever mind. Why could that cleverness not have gone to Jamie where it could be useful?

“And I will have my own champion.” Tyrion answers dismissively, even though his list of allies dwindles as the days pass and his lack of gold backing him is made obvious.

"Who?" Tywin chortles with unfettered glee. "That useless squire of yours? I thought you finally set him free."

“There is someone who will fight for me.” Tyrion insists, though he knows that Bron would not. He does not have enough coin to pay him.

"How much time will you give him to find someone?" Raeden asks, aghast at everything that has happened in a mere five minute span.

Tywin seems to consider this, frowning down at his son for a long moment before speaking again. "Whatever the length of time is that it will take Clegane to arrive in King's Landing."

“Gregor Clegane?” Oberyn’s voice is soft, piercing through the tension like a whip.

"Who else would my sister appoint to be her Champion?" Tyrion asks, mostly rhetorically. "She cannot appoint our brother, can she?" After all, Jamie's missing hand is a damper on his swordplay. Otherwise Tyrion would have appointed his brother himself. Still, Tyrion looks to Jamie standing silently in the corner with sympathy. He knows what it is to be unwanted and wishes that Jamie never had to learn.

Oberyn hums, a vicious little growl in the back of his throat. Thrilled that the opportunity has finally presented itself. “I will be your champion.” He tells Tyrion, his voice clear and firm.

"You— what?" Both Lannisters ask together, heads snapping up toward the Dornish prince. Even Raeden is staring, although he is imagining the terror on your and Ellaria's faces rather than expressing surprise at Oberyn's choice. He understands perfectly why the choice is being made.

"I will fight for Tyrion Lannister." He repeats, settling back into his chair with an air of supreme victory. "And kill your Mountain." He warns Tywin. "It is fortunate that you have been so accommodating in arranging our conversation. I was starting to think that you had deceived me." He offers with a small pout.

A man does not get a nickname like the Red Viper of Dorne without earning it, and although Tyrion has never seen Oberyn Martell fight, he knows his reputation. The man is as likely to win a fight as he is to be successful in a seduction – and he has fucked half of Westeros.

For his part, Tywin is seething, but the only way to tell is his eyes. If looks could kill there would be no need for champions at all — Tywin would simply strike his son down here and now. “Take him away,” he growls to the jailer, striking out one bony finger to indicate that he wants Tyrion as far away from him as possible.

Jamie Lannister is perhaps the only person in the entire room that seems genuinely upset, his eyes filled with genuine worry for the brother he has always tried to protect from the wrath of his sister and father. His deal with his father now useless, he turns and strides out of the room with a swish of his white cloak.

******

“You are sure you can win?” Raeden is at Oberyn’s side with worry painted over his every feature in the swift walk to your chambers. If anything happens to Oberyn, he cannot think of how profoundly it will devastate you and Ellaria.

"Extremely." Oberyn boasts confidently. "I have been in the fighting pits in Mereen, against much better opponents than Gregor Clegane." He spits the name out like a curse. "His size is what wins him his battles but I have the agility he does not."

“Size can often be enough.” Raeden himself is not a small man, but nowhere near the size of the legendary Mountain. “They say he can crush a man’s skull in with his bare hands, Oberyn. That is not to be taken lightly.”

"I do not intend to make light of it." He reassures him. "I intend to make him confess his crimes in front of all of King's Landing before I kill him."

“Revenge for your sister and a swift trip back to Sunspear.” Even when Raeden nods, it is with a heavy heart.

"Tywin Lannister ordered the murder of my sister, a crowned Princess of Dorne." He reminds Raeden. "Would you not do the same if it had been Star's fate?" He asks quietly.

Raeden’s eyes darken, the gruffness in his voice obvious. “I would burn the world down if it took her from us.”

“Then you understand.” Oberyn grunts. “I must do this. But I will not fail.” He smirks. “My bite is much worse than his.”

When Raeden pushes open the door to the chambers now shared by seven people, they are considerably fuller than they were even last night. Trunks piled in the corner that he has never seen before say that you and Ellaria must have taken Margaery to retrieve her things from her grandmother while he was speaking to Mace Tyrell with Oberyn. A very clever decision on your part – you will only have dealt with Olenna Tyrell this way.

"How did my father take the news?" Her grandmother had been surprised, but she had smirked and patted her hand in a way that let Margaery know that she approved of her granddaughter's rash decision.

"Apparently..." Raeden sighs, but happily puts his arms around his wife when she steps closer to him. "I am a flea for stealing you away from him." He shrugs, his mind having moved on to other things since being shouted at by the red-faced little man. "How did your grandmother take it?"

"She did not say much, but—" her smile is bright and conspiratorial. "She is pleased. I am out of my father's and the Lannister's clutches." Her hands brace on his chest and while she would sink into his arms, she pushes him back slightly so she can take his hand and drag him over to one of the larger chest. "She has sent this with me, promising that the rest will be ready for when we sail to Dorne."

Curiosity is a powerful thing, and Raeden raises one eyebrow at Margaery before lifting the heavy lid of the trunk she has indicated. Jewelry, coin, silver and gold trinkets, luxurious fabrics, and assorted pieces of armor fill the large wooden vessel and he sucks in a sharp breath. “She—she gave you your dowry?” In truth, he had not expected to see it. Having eloped with Margaery, he had assumed that her family would deny him the fortune that had been offered to the Lannisters along with her hand. But it appears he was wrong.

"A portion of it." She clarifies. "There are six other trunks that are bigger than this one." She snorts. "Seven trunks of gold for the future queen of the Seven Kingdoms." She had scoffed at the irony. "Along with another seven trunks of silks, seven of weapons, and seven of silver."

"So this is...a sampling?" His eyes widen at the implications of that – of all the riches that she has brought to the infancy of their House. He knew it would be a great deal, but clearly he had underestimated the wealth of House Tyrell.

"My grandmother has a gift for keeping our wealth quiet, especially when my father wishes to flaunt it." She purses her lips. "But over the course of the years, House Tyrell has accumulated more wealth than the Lannisters have in their coffers." She admits. "Robert Baratheon was a wasteful man."

"Kings have that habit." You murmur from behind them, surprising even yourself with how much you enjoy the sight of them side by side. "Forgive me for interrupting, but would someone like to tell me why my husband breezed through the room and shut himself away without a word to any of us?" Oberyn's face had held determination and an utter expression of being pleased with himself, but he had walked straight through your quarters and shut himself out on the balcony and is now pacing the length of it with determination.

Guilt at forgetting the most important part of today floods Raeden and he drops Margaery's hand to rush towards you and gasps your shoulders. "My love, I—" He starts and chokes up for a moment before he clears his throat. "The trial is over." He tells you quietly. "Tyrion invoked trial by combat when it became clear that he would not get a fair judgement."

"And trial by combat will be more fair?" The deep concern etched into his face brings your heartbeat to a near panic almost immediately. "But why should that upset Oberyn so? It means we can go home."

"The Lannister's champion is Gregor Clegane." He murmurs softly. "The Mountain." His hands drop to yours and he squeezes gently, bracing for you to understand. "We are not going home."

"Oh no." Turning away from him immediately, you push through to the other chamber of your quarters and practically shout Ellaria's name to get her attention before moving through to the door of the balcony. The wooden doors have glass panels where you can see Oberyn moving with grace and determination – as though he were prowling out there instead of walking back and forth. "Oberyn, unlock the doors," you insist, knocking on them loudly after you find that they will not pull open. The latch on the outside of the doors never made sense to you until this moment, and now you curse it.

Ellaria's graceful pose on the settee abandoned when she hears the distress in your voice, she rises and quickly crosses the room to where you are rattling the costly glass as you bang on it. "What is wrong?" She demands, her breath catching when she sees the stiffness in her lover's back, the determination in his gain. "What did he do?" She gasps.

"He's going to get himself killed," you gasp, feeling a little like you cannot fill your lungs properly. "Oberyn, open the door!"

Oberyn pauses, looking towards the door and his eyes flash, conveying that he knows that you are aware of his plan. He turns and continues his pacing as he plots, thinks about his next moves. About the confrontation to come.

"Tyrion demanded a trial by combat," you tell Ellaria, already feeling the tears fill your eyes as true terror and worry set in one wave at a time. "And the Lannisters have The Mountain."

"Gods be damned." Ellaria whispers, her own dread crashing through her like a wave and for a moment, she sways on her feet. She's aware of Raeden and Margaery out of the corner of her eye, but she cannot muster any thought but of what will come. "He is fighting for Tyrion."

"He is fighting for Elia." There is no need to state the obvious, but you cannot help yourself. The tears are flowing freely even if they are silent, and you can feel yourself shaking with nerves.

Ellaria sighs softly, her own fears pushed aside as she wraps her arms around your shoulders. You need to be calm, for the baby. “Come my love.” She murmurs softly. “He will not talk until he is ready.” She knows his habits and of this, she is certain. “Let me get you some tea and we can sit.”

"Oberyn!" They will have to forcibly remove you from the other side of this door and there is hardly any chance of calm finding you soon. Of course you understand the need to avenge his sister's murder, but if attempting it will leave nine children fatherless then is that worthwhile?

Margaery moves to your other side. “Come.” She urges softly. “It cannot be good for the baby.” Her hand wraps around your arm and she tugs you gently.

It is a broken half-sob that cracks through you, making you fold in half at the door. Everything has come to such a measure of happiness and now it stands on the brink of ruin. It is only because of Ellaria and Margaery that you do not collapse into a heap on the floor. The older woman bearing most of your weight as she carries you away from the glass, Raeden rushing over to take you from her and cradle you in his arms.

Raeden all but carries you to the bed, laying you down to cry on the pillow instead. Fear – pure, unadulterated fear – courses through every inch of your body as you lay there, unable to think of anything but the possibility of losing him. Your husband. The father of your unborn child. Your soulmate. What will become of all of you and the promises that have been made if Oberyn dies reaping his revenge from his sister's killer?

Margaery is the first to lay down. Knowing how upset you are and wishing to offer you some small comfort. “He must have a plan.” She coos, stroking her hand over your hair while you cry.

"What can one plan against a Mountain?" Overwhelmed with fear, you barely shake your head. For someone who has grown up with great violence in your life, the idea of it now is terrifying. When the people in your life have been in danger – your brothers, or Brynna, Raeden, or even Margaery? You have done everything in your power to help them. You cannot be of help to Oberyn in a fight to the death.

“Our lover, our soulmate would not champion this fight if he didn’t not know he could win.” Ellaria is angry at Oberyn as well, but she knows he will not yield in this. The best thing she can do is support him and encourage you to do the same. “He is clever and quick, fierce. He would not fight if he thought he would leave our children without a father.”

"I cannot control the tears." Begging her to understand, desperately hoping that the one other woman in the room to have experienced pregnancy will know this feeling, you cling to Ellaria's hand. "Or the fear in my heart."

“I have fear too.” She confesses quietly, wrapping her lithe body around your back. “Do not doubt it, but I know he will do this, even if we do not approve.”

It is not for you to approve or disapprove of. You know that. This is something that he must do, for himself and for Elia. In his shoes you know you would do the same. But that does not keep you from weeping at the possibility of losing him.

Raeden watches, feeling helpless as you cry so he turns to the doors out onto the ledge, hoping Oberyn might talk to him. It is not likely the prince will entertain any argument whatsoever against his choice, but it is not Raeden’s intent to talk him out of his vow. Just to simply get him to talk.

The knock on the door makes Oberyn pause again, seeing Raeden on the other side, and his eyes slide past him to the bed where Ellaria and Margaery are laying with you. Clenching his jaw as he strides to the door, he wonders if you have sent your other soulmate to talk him out of his duty to his family. Talk to me. Raeden mouths through the window, not wanting to shout and startle you more. He has seen how screaming can panic you after incidents with your mother.

For a moment, he considers ignoring the man, to continue to plot by himself, but the concern in his eyes makes him flip the bar to allow the doors to be pushed open. “You will not change my mind.” He warns the younger lord.

“It is not my intent to try.” Raeden steps out onto the balcony and lets the door shut again behind him. “But tell me you have a plan.”

“I do.” Oberyn nods as he looks out over the city below the keep. “They will make it very public, an event.” He muses, a trace of a chuckle in his tone. “They will wish to make an example of him, and me.”

“And you will make them wish they had not?” He guesses, seeing the fire in Oberyn’s eyes.

“I will get my confession if it must force it from him one slice at a time.” He growls with satisfaction. “For all of King’s Landing to hear. Tywin Lannister’s sins will be laid bare.”

“I know you are determined. With good reason.” Raeden’s hand twitches but he does not reach out. Oberyn is pacing like a caged animal and may bite. “And we are not of a mind to change that.” He swallows a plaintive sound. “But you have two soulmates afraid of losing you,” he tells Oberyn plainly. “Your wife is inconsolable at the idea.”

Your words burn into his brain and he sighs after a moment, looking back towards the door. “I—” he pauses and he knows that you are different from Ellaria, you have not seen him fight before. “I will talk to her.” He tells Raeden, stepping closer and reaching out to cup the man’s neck to drag him closer for a kiss.

It is fierce, and a little surprising, but Raeden does not fight the moment of intimacy. Instead he presses into it and nips at Oberyn’s bottom lip before letting him go. Oberyn growls, the urge to strip Raeden down right here and burn off the extra energy fucking him nearly makes him reach for his belt, but he has a soulmate, two soulmates to reassure. He doesn’t hesitate to reach down and cup the other man’s cock, feeling it twitch in his hands. “Soon.” He promises.

Ellaria is the only one of the three of you facing the door, and she sighs in relief to see Oberyn striding back into the room even as your tears have started to calm. They seem to come in waves and right now the flow is ebbing.

He doesn’t urge Margaery to move, but he reaches over her for you. Pulling you up and into his arms. Upset at himself now that he’s not solely focused on his revenge at how distressed you are. “My moon and stars.” He coos softly, cupping your chin. “Why are you crying like you are mourning me?”

"Practice." You sniff, curling against his chest and clutching his robe.

“You will be practicing for a long time.” He warns you, a chuckle at your pouting tone threatening to bubble out of him. His lips press into your hair and he cradles you close. “Why do you insult me by believing it is my time to die?”

"I do not—" Sucking in a breath makes you shudder, and you shake your head against his chest. "Mean to insult you, love. It is—I—I am afraid for you."

“I am not going to die at the hands of Gregor Clegane.” He promises you. “I will die old and decrepit in our bed, after many more children and years together.” He hums. “I will hold our child in my arms as she slips from your womb.”

"They say he cannot be beaten." You have heard the tales of The Mountain as well as everyone else in Westeros, and despite having also heard tales of Oberyn's prowess as a fighter, you cannot help the way you have reacted. "And they say you cannot be beaten. Surely one of those is wrong."

“He is large and lumbering. I have the advantage of speed and skill because I do not rely on brute strength alone.” He tells you, rubbing your back gently. He is trying to reassure all of you.

“I—I am— forgive me.” Logic and reason dictate that he is correct. That speed and agility may be enough to work against an enormous foe in one-to-one battle. And even though logic and reason are not your ruling bodies right now, you can see the merit in that argument. “I do not mean to doubt you. I only— I cannot bear the thought of being without you.”

“It is okay to be worried.” He will not make light of your fears, but he will remind you that he has no intention of dying. He nuzzles against your jaw and presses a soft kiss to your skin. “I have every intention of poisoning the bastard as well.” He admits quietly.

That makes your head snap up, eyebrows furrowed, and lips parted in surprise, though you are not sure why. It is a good plan. A very clever plan, in fact. To be as qualified with and knowledgeable of poisons as he is, it would almost be folly not to use them. “You—you will?”

“They do not call me the Red Viper for naught, my love.” He reminds you quietly. “From the first strike, Gregor Clegane will die. Every time he will swing his sword or axe, he will work the poison closer to his heart.” He smirks. “That is where being quick and agile works in my favor.”

Foggy from tears and fear, your mind is slow to grasp the concept but once you arrive at it, you gasp. “All you have to do is wear him out. The poison will do the rest?”

“Exactly, my love.” He hums, happy that you have worked it out. “While I trick him into confessing his part in my sister’s murder and who gave the order.”

Though the realization does not instantly dry your tears, it does have you sniffling and burying your face against his chest all over again. “When, my love? When is all this meant to happen?”

“It will be within the next week.” He doesn’t know exactly when, but he can’t imagine Tywin delaying it longer than necessary. “As soon as the Mountain arrives to King’s Landing.”

Both of your arms creep around him, holding tight to the man who has changed your life irrevocably and so much for the better. “Once it is over, I hope we never have to return to King’s Landing again.”

“That would be my fondest wish.” Oberyn chuckles, allowing you to hold tight to him as he looks over at his other soulmate and reaches for her. “Come.”

Ellaria is better at hiding her fear. She has more practice and has seen him through many more battles than you – both big and small. But even she sighs with relief to sit up from the bed and press a kiss to his palm. “If you do not return with us I will find a way to make sure your baby is a boy and convince your princess to name him Oberyn,” she threatens half-heartedly, knowing from conversations many years past that he hates the idea of naming a child after himself.

“You would not dare.” He groans, sending her a narrowed eyed gaze, playful in nature.

“I will.” She promises, wrapping her arms around both of you in turn. “As sure as the sun rises each morning.”

“Then it is settled.” He huffs, leaning in to press his lips to hers. “I will not die; I will make sure that my newest child is not be named after me.”

“Is that all it takes?” You huff, playfulness edging your still-worried voice as you kiss both of them easily. “A threat?”

“I am simple man.” He teases, winking at you before he squeezes you gently. “Do not worry yourself sick, my love.”

“I promise I will not show my fear out there.” Glancing to the windows and at King’s Landing below, you bite back a sigh. It will be imperative to present yourselves as united, strong, and confident when the time comes.

“A little fear is not unrealistic.” He reminds you. “I just do not want you to make yourself ill. You have the baby to think of.”

“And so do you.” The tears, thankfully, are beginning to dry. And as with all other times in this pregnancy, it seems, you have become rather exhausted from the efforts of shedding them.

“I know, Star.” He rocks you slightly against his body and despite the earliness of the day, you are already starting to wilt from the exertion of your tears. “Do you wish to nap, my love?”

Pursing your lips at him, you wrinkle your nose for good measure and sigh in defeat. “Only if you promise not to make any more life or death decisions while I am tucked in.”

“I promise that I will run any other decisions by you before they are made.” He promises. “Do you want to lay down by yourself, or would you like one of us to stay with you?”

“It would be selfish to ask someone to stay.” And with the display you just made, the last thing you want is to show more selfishness. “I am sure you all have more entertaining things to do than lay with me in the dark.”

“I am feeling exhausted.” Margaery is not tired, but you have been such a rock for her, that if she can lay down with you to be some small comfort, she will. “Would you mind if I shared your nap with you? I know that we are not intimate yet, but maybe you would not mind?”

“Fifteen minutes ago you were practically giddy for Raeden to return.” Skepticism aside, you do offer her a half smile when Oberyn puts you back in bed beside your other soulmate’s wife. “But all the same…I would dearly appreciate the company.”

“Good.” She sends you a small smile and settles against the cushions. “We will have a nice rest and then we can settle on what we will do for the rest of the day.”

“Nothing too public, I should think.” As word gets out that Margaery has married again – and that it was not to Tommen Baratheon – you expect there will be a few days at least where she ought to lay low.

“No, nothing public. But perhaps we can go through my clothes to see what I will need to discard before we get to Dorne?” She asks, look at you as you both lie down.

“That would be a good idea,” Ellaria agrees with an encouraging nod. “Both of you can surely donate your heavier gowns to some less fortunate ladies and it will be less to travel with.”

“Yes, will we have the noon meal delivered to the rooms.” Oberyn promises. “Now, both of you rest and when you are ready, come out to the main area.” He leans down and kisses your lips and hesitates but then does kiss Margaery’s forehead. She has not indicated wanted to touch him yet, but it seemed rude to kiss his wife and leave her out.

“We will, my love.” You promise him, watching as your three lovers file from the room and close the door gently behind them. Though you truly are tired, you turn back to face Margaery and offer her a smile. “You are very kind to offer to stay with me.”

“If it was me in your place, you would offer the same.” She murmurs quietly. “I meant what I said, I consider you my dearest friend and now? Perhaps more.”

“Have you been hiding affection for me, Margaery?” Waving away the joke teasingly, you nevertheless curl up on the pillow beside her and offer her a place in your arms if she wants it. “That would quite set tongues to wagging.”

“You are beautiful.” She huffs and slides closer to you until her own arms wrap around you. “You know that. You and Ellaria are breathtaking. More stunning at my wedding than I was.”

“Impossible.” The wedding may have been a tense, overdramatic thing, but Margaery was mesmerizing. “You looked like a goddess that day.” Cheeks warming slightly at how easily she comes to you, you let one of your hands settle on her back. “You are one of the most stunning women I have ever seen, no matter what the day is.”

“You must not have looked in a mirror too often, my Princess.” She hums, smiling at you and leaning in. “It is high praise if you feel that way.”

“Margaery…” Before you can let the moment progress, you take a breath and put your other hand to her cheek. “If you change your mind, simply say the word and we will go on as if nothing ever happened.”

“I understand.” She hums softly, aware that she is in a unique situation, and this is something she could have never foreseen, but she is not upset by it.

First Brynna, then Ellaria, and now Margaery. There seems no rhyme or reason to it beside them all being beautiful women who treat you with singular kindness, but when you lean forward to press your lips to Margaery’s for the first time and let your eyes flutter shut, there is that same feeling of rightness that there had been with both women who came before. Unforeseen and unplanned, it is not unwelcome at all.

Margaery’s hum is almost surprised, mixed with delight as she melts into the kiss, and pulls you closer. It will be the first kiss she has had with another woman since she was a young girl, since before she had bled, but instead of giggling and teasing, she wants more.

Somehow, she tastes the way fresh air and sunshine feel in spring. Like promise and good things to come. Like the crisp cleanness of spring rain. It’s intoxicating in a way you have never experienced before, making you linger and try to claim more of the taste with small kisses from her lips.

“Does everyone in your party know how to kiss?” She asks breathlessly, grinning as she indulges in the quick kisses and her fingers reach up to undo your hairstyle.

“They all have far more experience than me,” you admit, warm cheeks disguised in the semi-darkness of the room. “But they are wonderful teachers, if there is a pleasure you wish to learn.”

“I am certain I will learn it all.” She admits, almost shyly. “Unless you think it strange that I join your obviously close foursome?”

“If it were strange to us, we would not have offered.” After a few months of knowing Oberyn and Ellaria, you are now very certain that they choose their lovers in different ways. And the ones that entered into this arrangement — this family you have created — were chosen for more than just looks or sport. “We would never have even mentioned it.”

“I am worried.” She confesses quietly. “You are Ellaria are his soulmates, Oberyn is his lover, and I— I am just his wife.” It sounds ridiculous, but she is used to many wives not being of any use or consequence once an heir was secured. “I was slightly worried my father would have offered him coin to return me to him.”

“Just his wife?” Your fingers graze through her hair and tuck the strands behind her ear. “Raeden is not in the habit of dismissing the people he cares for, my darling. And he would not have proposed – the marriage or indeed any sort of solution – if he did not care for you.”

“I guess that I just need to believe that.” She chuckles quietly. “With my luck though, you can see why that is hard.”

“Just because you have not been lucky yet, does not mean you are never going to be lucky at all.” It is a small offer of comfort, but an honest one. Your thumb strokes her cheek and you smile, feeling a bit more awake with the sensation of arousal coursing through your veins. “Perhaps it is time to balance the scales.”

“What do you suggest?” She asks, arching a brow and humming quietly. Her head tilts, leaning into your touch and her bright blue eyes are fixed on yours.

“How much are you keen to experience?” She is looking to you for guidance and you want very dearly to provide it.

“What do you have in mind?” She asks curiously. Last night with Raeden was wonderful and satisfying, but she craves more, wishing to learn everything she can and experience it all.

“Have you ever had a woman give you pleasure before?” It is a careful question, one that could go wrong if Margaery decides she does not want to explore this with you, but you find yourself craving to know if her slit tastes as divine as her lips do.

“No.” She confesses quietly, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. For all her worldliness, she had never ventured into pleasure with another woman. “Is it— what is it like?” She asks breathlessly.

“Much the same as when a man has his head between your legs.” It makes you laugh softly to admit it, but it is the truth. “But slender fingers can sometimes wring sensations from you that thicker ones could not. And while these men know of that hidden nub above your folds, not all men do.”

“Raeden was the first.” She tells you quietly. “No man had ever used his mouth on me before.”

“Then your lovers have been neglecting you.” This time when you offer her a smile, it is smaller, warmer, and more confident. “If you would like to experience it from a woman, I can show you. Or Ellaria, if you would rather.”

“Do you…want to?” She asks, unsure if you are interested in her or if you are just being kind. Both you and Ellaria make her cunt clench and bottom out when you both look at her as if she is a tasty morsel.

“I would not offer if I did not want to.” Once more, your fingers smooth the stray hairs from her face. “But if you are not ready yet, or if you would prefer Ellaria, it is entirely your choice.”

“I confess I find both of you extremely intoxicating.” She tells you, slightly flustered. “I would like to touch and be touched by both of you.”

“Then that can easily be managed.” With five of you, there would never be a moment that one of you could not have someone between your legs if you wished it. “Very easily indeed.”

“Is it— similar to touching a man?” She asks, biting her lip.

“It can be.” After all, some men are soft and some women are muscled. “But women are shaped so beautifully. And the scent and taste? Worth drowning in.”

“You do not find men pleasing?” She tilts her head in surprise, sure that you had true affection for Oberyn. And to have two soulmate who were men? She cannot believe that you prefer women to men.

“Of course I do.” You shrug, though. “Some men. Not most. But women are—they are otherworldly, are they not? Inspirations. Walking goddesses.” In the half-light, you laugh softly at yourself. “I did not mean to surprise you. But surely you must know how stunning you are?”

“I have been told I am beautiful for my entire life. Flattered and had my hand kissed.” She shrugs one dainty shoulder. “Men who wished to align with my family, to access my dowry. Never me that they wanted, they wanted my name.”

“Their motives may have been wrong, but they were telling the truth about your beauty.” Your own experience as a noble daughter was nothing like hers but you still frown. “I am sorry if you learned not to believe it because of them.”

“My faults are nothing you need to apologize for.” She promises you, reaching out to caress your cheek.

“They were wrong,” you repeat again, more steadily this time. “Not you. You are not at fault.” Softly, slowly, you rise up on one elbow and nudge Margaery over onto her back. “Will you let me show you how wonderful you truly are?”

There is a soft grin on her face as she looks up at you. “I thought you were tired?”

"I was." There is no lie in that, but you cannot help the way your smile turns sly. "But then the beauty in bed with me confessed she wanted to know what it would feel like for me to touch her."

“Then touch me.” Margaery begs. “Make me cry out so loud our husbands come to see what is happening.”

"They will only be upset that they did not get to witness the first moments." Grinning, you bowl Margaery over entirely and let the next press of your lips to hers be eager. Wanting. This time your hands have permission to wander, and you work at the ties on the front of her dress methodically. Suddenly you understand every complaint Oberyn has ever had about Northern dresses.

Margaery moans when your fingers brush her skin, eager to feel your touch and her legs restlessly spread underneath you. Unable to control herself and for the first time, she doesn’t have to. She is allowed to have what she wants with no shame.

"Oberyn is right," you huff, a small laugh escaping you as your fingers ghost over her skin and spread apart the two sides of her dress. "No more of these heavy dresses in Dorne. Far too much fabric."

She giggles quietly and reaches out to pull at your own laces. “Your husband grumbles about your clothing?” She asks coyly.

"If Oberyn had his way, none of his lovers would wear anything but cock-drunk smiles." It is only half a joke, but the two of you are far more focused with pulling off your dresses. "But now that my goal lies under all of these layers, I am bound to agree with him."

“Perhaps the world would be simpler if everyone where nude.” She bites her lip and crows in triumph when your stays loosen. Your enthusiastic anticipation is catching and she swears she has soaked her undergarments.

"Oberyn will celebrate to hear you say such a thing." Laces, layers, stays, and petticoats are tossed off the bed from every angle until Margaery is finally bare under you. "Gods above..." Not so long ago, you would have been embarrassed the way the sight of her breasts makes your mouth water. But now? There is no shame in your attraction. "You are...stunning, my darling."

Your own body is still covered in a chemise and she whimpers, squirming slightly. “I— I wish to see you.” She pants slightly. “All of you.”

On your knees above her, you pick up the hem of your final layer and toy with it for a second just to see if she rolls her hips again with need. When Margaery squirms again almost instantly, you bite back a smirk. "There is no need to beg," you assure her, pulling the fabric over your head at last.

She has seen nude women before, but none that take her breath away like this. Drinking in the sight of your tits, the thatch of curls between your thighs, she reaches out to caress your hip. “Beautiful.” She whispers. “I want to see this every day.”

"I was promised an extremely large bed as a wedding present," you tell her with a grin, reaching down to caress her cheek and letting your hand wander to the peak of one breast lightly. "It will have to be large enough for five, I think."

“And if I wanted to fuck your husband?” She asks softly, wanting to make sure that she doesn’t cross any boundaries that would hurt or offend you.

"Then I might ask to watch." Your other hand grazes her thigh as your eyes roam back and forth over every inch of his body. The reddish tone of her hair is darker in the curls at the apex of her thighs, and somehow knowing that is more alluring than you ever could have believed. "Or I might fuck your husband in turn."

“You must look gorgeous on his cock.” She whimpers when your fingers brush through her curls and she spreads her legs wider. Her cunt is throbbing and unlike a man, you don’t just jump into things. Heightening the sensations. “Have you – have you fucked them together before?”

"I did not know my pussy could stretch to take both of them like that." The memory of that particular day will be burned into your mind's eye forever, and you shiver as you lay yourself down between Margaery's legs. "You can have them both too, if you want."

“And you and Ellaria?” You look breathtaking between her thighs and a shiver rubs through her body when your breath washes over her sensitive folds.

Lifting your head, the plains and dips of her body are even more dramatic from the place you are now occupying and your smile tugs into a smirk. "You can have us, too. If that is your desire."

“I have done what I have been expected to my entire life.” Margaery pants, her chest heaving as she looks down at you. “I wish to be greedy.” The sentiment earns an approving nod of your head, and a flash of your own greed has you lunging upward to wrap your lips around one pert nipple while your thumb easily finds her swollen clit. Margaery’s cry is strained, gasping when she realizes that you are just as talented as her husband, maybe even more so. Overwhelmed by the fact that you are touching her, her eyes close and then pop open again so she can watch.

Your free hand kneads her other breast, rolling the nipple between your fingers experimentally to find the amount of tension she likes even as your fingers dance at her entrance. If you had been worried about the transition from friends to lovers, the ease of this moment is proof that you need not have given it a second thought at all. After all — when you had told Oberyn that you would likely only go to bed with people you cared for, you had been telling the truth.

“Oh, oh gods.” She moans out, panting your name when you give her the exact amount of pressure on her nipples that she likes. It is like being with a man, but the touch is more gentle, localized, and she can tell that you have touched a woman before.

The pleased hun from your throat vibrates through her skin when you find just the right tension, continuing your ministrations at her gorgeous tits but slipping the tips of two fingers through her slick folds. A little deeper with each pass, it will take no time for your digits to disappear inside her body, but you want to give her time to adjust to the sensation.

“I— I did— I never—” Her cunt is pleasantly sore, thoroughly used by your soulmate last night and her hips still chase the feeling of your fingers. “Please, Princess.” She begs, the knowledge that you are higher than her socially making her clench again.

“Never what, Margaery?” Removing your mouth from her temporarily, you find her eyes already glazed over with lust and cannot help but feel a little proud. You felt the way her cunt clenched your fingers when she used your title and you wonder if she might find it alluring to be ‘under your power’ like some others have you heard about.

“Never felt so good.” She whines and shakes her head. “Please.” She needs you to keep touching her. She’s orgasmed before but this sensation is sweeter, sharper.

"Raeden will take that as a challenge," you inform her with a smirk, but her pleading is too dear. You wrap your lips around her other breast, switching your hand to its twin and sinking your fingers into her dripping wet heat just a touch faster. The way she is pulling you in, you could not go slower if you tried. It is as though her body itself is begging for you.

It is too much and not enough all at the same time. Margaery knows her voice it pitching up every time she makes a sound but she can’t even try to muffle herself, not when she knows that no one will judge her. The sharp cries of pleasure tighten when you move down her body, laying kisses along her skin and inhaling her scent with your own blissed out groan before you open your mouth entirely and envelope her cunt entirely. Languid open mouth kisses come with kitten licks from your probing tongue, and Margaery lets loose a moan so loud that it breaks past the walls and the door opens abruptly.

“Star?” At the sight in front of him, Raeden’s eyes widen. Letting loose a moan of his own at the sight of his soulmate’s face between his new wife’s thighs, licking and sucking like you have always pleasured her. “Gods be praised.” His cock jolts and immediately starts to harden as he steps fully into the room and closes the door behind him.

Your hum vibrates through Margaery's lips and you barely turn your head before you get a glimpse of Raeden crowding into the room. "I had a sudden burst of energy," you hum, smirking in a very self-satisfied way.

“I see.” He grunts, his hand moving to his belt to start untying it as he moves closer. “I had some thought to take my new wife to bed, but it seems as if you have beaten me to it.” He tells you, his eyes darkening with lust as he watches her body writhe under your attention.

"And yet I think you are not upset about it." Not at all, if his instantly hard cock is anything to judge by.

Margaery waits for her husband to answer but he doesn’t. Instead he strides over to the bed and leans in, his tongue plunging into her mouth with a hot moan as he caresses your head between her thighs.

That is all the encouragement you need, turning again to give your devoted attention to Margaery's weeping pussy. Every lick is divine, but you push your fingers deep inside her and suck her clit into your mouth all at once, wanting her to moan into Raeden's kiss so he can swallow the sound.

Margaery reaches up, desperately grasping Raeden’s head as she kisses him back, feeling like her entire world is spinning and she doesn’t want it to stop. Her husband is turned on by this, and if he and Oberyn together is anything near this intoxicating, she would want to witness it every day.

Your own moan follows, loud but muffled by Margaery’s folds, as you feel Raeden’s fingers sliding along your own throbbing cunt. He loves to explore your body while you use your mouth on someone else – something you discovered quickly the first time you gave Ellaria pleasure – and this morning with his wife is no exception.

“I want to see you with her.” Margaery moans. “Would you fuck your soulmate in front of your wife?”

The question makes both you and Raeden pause, but with him naked beside you there is no question of the affect her request has on him. A spurt of precum drips from his cock into your shoulder and you grin wickedly. “I think he would enjoy that.”

She bites her lip and looks from you to her husband. The weight of the ring on her finger feels right and she spreads her legs wider. “Make me shake while my husband fills you with his cock.” She begs. “I want to see his seed drip from your cunt and taste it to see if it is sweet inside you.”

If any of you were ever unsure as to whether or not Margaery would fit into the dynamic you have established amongst yourselves – all of those concerns are dispelled in this moment. Raeden groans deeply and surges down again, plunging his tongue deep as his kisses her and sliding his fingers as far into your cunt as they will go to make you buck against his hand at the same time you moan into his wife’s pussy. It is a symphony of sin but it is so earnestly wanted by all of you. It could only be more perfect if Oberyn and Ellaria were here, the two of them disappearing into the other bedroom, and while they had invited him, he had wanted to stay in the main area in case you or Margaery needed him.

Your hips rock against his hand, impaling you on his thick fingers even as your own slide in and out of his wife. The squelching sounds are like music to your ears, and the hand that was previous at Margaery’s tits now plays with your own as Raeden lavishes hers with attention.

“Oh fuck.” She moans, enjoying the difference between the two sets of hands on her body. “Do you— is this what you do every day?”

“As often as we like,” Raeden rumbles, lifting his head to meet her eyes. “And you are welcome whenever you choose.”

“Ohhhhh oh gods.” The moans come out louder now, both the idea of having this anytime she wishes and the pure pleasure of your mouth on her sensitive cunt. “Yes.”

He seems as blissed out as she is even without having more than his hands involved, and you reluctantly pull away from Margaery’s glistening cunt to look up at him. “My love, your wife wishes to watch you fuck me,” you remind him, chest heaving at even the formation of the words on your tongue.

“Yes.” Raeden nods, aware that this is something special. The first time that the three of you are together like this. Hopefully not the last. He kisses her once more before he is shuffling behind you and wrapping his fingers around his cock. “Watch wife.” He orders Margaery.

His fingers are slick from being inside you and you moan from deep in your chest when he notches the head of his cock at your entrance and starts to push inside. Raeden’s tendency to be overly gentle with you has eased over the last few weeks, and especially in moments like this when you are so pliant and wet that you are literally dripping on the sheets.

“Fuuuuuuck.” Raeden grunts, rocking his hips until he is buried to be hilt inside you, his dark eyes fixed on his wife as she watches.

“Gods above.” Your groan echoes through Margaery’s body and vibrates deliciously through her wetness, but you have to tear your mouth away temporarily to catch your breath. “How will you take me for your wife, love? Will you be soft and sweet, or will you show her how I like to be made breathless?”

“I think I will show her how the princess likes to take her cocks.” Raeden decides with a grin and a wink to his wife before he leans over and kisses your spine.

That promise is immediately followed by the pulling back of his hips and having them slam forward again, emptying and filling your quivering cunt all in an instant and making you cry out into Margaery’s folds. Your fingers pick up speed with the determination of having Raeden fuck you, and you suck her clit into your mouth again with such enthusiasm that her cry echoes your own.

“Oh gods.” Margaery can feel the strength behind the thrust when your face pushes into her cunt harder than the normal pressure. Rocked forwards by his cock. “That cock is so good. I will need it harsh too, husband.”

“Whatever happened to ladies being delicate?” Raeden huffs, groaning as his hips connect with your ass again.

“None of us really are.” Margaery giggles and then moans when your tongue flutters around her clit. Making her grind down on your tongue.

“Men have been fed a lie,” he grouses good-naturedly, and he reaches out with one hand to grip your braid that Margaery has unpinned.

“Do you like to have your hair pulled?” Margaery asks you breathlessly.

Nodding makes the grip that Raeden has on your hair that much tighter, and your eyes flutter shut at the sensation before you open them again to look up at Margaery. "I cannot explain it, but I always enjoy pain with my pleasure."

“I want to try that.” Margaery moans and reaches up to twist her hand around her own braid.

The amused smile on your lips is mirrored by Raeden, and you shake your head at her. "You cannot do it yourself, lover," you tell her, reaching up and tangling your fingers tightly as high up in her braid as you can manage. "If you do not like it, tell me 'no' and I will stop."

“Yes.” She nods and moans as she moves her head and makes her scalp tug.

Seeing the way her eyes roll back at the slight pressure of the tug, you pull harder and more sharply, elated when the sounded you are gifted with is an ecstatic moan. "Yes?" You ask, letting her braid go slack so you can tug again, just as sharply.

“Yes!” She cries out and her cunt clenches around your fingers. She can’t believe that it feels so good and makes her entire body shake with pleasure.

"My wife and my soulmate may be more alike than they know." Raeden rasps out, grunting out another thrust and tugging at your braid as you pull on Margaery's. "Make her cum, my love. I want to see the moment she falls apart for you."

“Ohhhhh fuck.” The curse falls from Margaery’s lips easily as she shamelessly grinds down on your fingers. “Would— would that be so bad?” She manages.

"Not at all." As Raeden pounds you deeper and harder into Margaery's pussy he bends over to bite your shoulder and groans at the sight in front of him. "You will both be fucked into the mattress at every opportunity."

“That sounds perfect.” She moans, one hand drifting to her own breast. She wonders if she could have whomever she wanted at any time, or if there was some unspoken rule. She doesn’t doubt that she would need to give Raeden his heir before she sleeps with another man, but she is eager to experience the legendary Red Viper between her thighs.

Any kind of conversation dissolves again when Raeden pulls your hair sharply and you pull Margaery's in response, and the room becomes a renewed symphony of moans. There is nothing you want more in this moment that to hear the ecstasy that will come from your friend's lips when she cums for you, so you curl your fingers against the place inside her that will make her scream and redouble your efforts.

Now her breath comes out in ragged gasps, watching as her breathtaking husband slams into you eagerly, his own groans making her cunt clench around your fingers. The scene is enough to make her keen and the quick, cleverness of your fingers quickly pushes Margaery over the edge with a very unladylike yell.

There is something truly intoxicating in being the middle of this encounter. Knowing that it was not only your skill but Raeden’s passion which sends Margaery over the edge and has her clenching down in your fingers with such eagerness that her body might try to envelop your entire hand. It leaves you wishing under Raeden’s Powerful thrusts, moaning and grinding back against him as you lap up every drop of cum from her slit.

It is hard for Margaery to keep her eyes open, but she is determined to watch him cum. Seeing if he makes you squeal like she had last night with his gentler touch. His fingertips dig into your hips, sure to leave marks that last days, and it is the powerful need behind them along with one more well-timed thrust that has you tearing away from Margaery’s body to cry his name for all to hear. The insistent throbbing of your body between his and hers is unending, rolling through you so you can neither seem to stop the continuous feeling of peak pleasure or even catch your breath. It is magnificently exhausting, and Raeden is still fucking into you with erratic force.

He gets to have you. It is still a wonder to him, made even more precious by the fact that his wife is watching him fuck you, her hands still cupping and massaging her tits while she catches her breath. He gets to have it all, and it’s making his thrusts slap even harder than he’s ever fucked you.

A half dozen more pumps of his hips against your ass and Raeden is choking on his own groans, trying to call both of your names at once and ending up alternating between them as he pulls you tight against him and nearly collapses onto your back.

Margaery hums. A little chuckle in her throat as Raeden rolls you onto your side, protective of the babe in your belly. She had been told about the child and is very happy for you, actually eager for her own time. Now, she pushes to her knees and leans over to kiss you both.

“You do not mind your own taste?” Your thumb swipes under her bottom lip, wiping away a smudge of her own slick that came from your mouth. Some do and some do not. It would be another delightful development if Margaery did not, as you find it quite indulgent.

“No, I want to drink it from your lips.” She coos, kissing you again and then Raeden before she smirks. Slowly sliding down to drag her tongue over your nipple and biting down on it gently. “Right now, I want to taste my husband’s cock still inside your cunt. Lick you both up.”

There is a voice in the back of your head that knows Oberyn is going to be thrilled with Margaery’s curiosity and desire to explore her own sexuality, and that Ellaria’s approval will be near instant as well. “Enjoy yourself, my darling,” you hum, snuggles up in Raeden’s arms and spread for her to enjoy.

Raeden’s eyes widen when his wife, the wicked smirk pleasantly plastered on her face, starts to move down your body. Fixed on the sight, his spent cock twitches inside you. “Wife, you fit this group more than you know.” He rasps out.

“Better than I did, at the beginning,” you admit with a soft sigh when one of Margaery’s long fingers strokes your folds.

“I cannot imagine that to be true.” She scoffs. “I am lucky you are so accommodating.” She looks back up at you as she scoops some of the thick, creamy cum up from the base of her husband’s cock.

“You are a wonder,” you correct, relaxing even more under her touch.

She hums, accepting the compliment, although she knows she is receiving much more from this arrangement than you are. Her fingers slide into her mouth and she moans at the musky, salty taste. “Delightful.”

“He is even better when you taste him from the source.” The encouragement is met with a groan from your soulmate, and he kisses along your shoulder as Margaery lowers her mouth to the place you are still connected. It is her first time being with another woman, tasting another woman and it seems like she is diving into it. Luxuriating in the freedom and encouragement she is getting, her tongue flutters around your clit like she had felt you do to her and then down to her husband’s cock.

“Fuck.” The appreciative groan from Raeden makes you grin in his arms when you turn to kiss him. “Your wife is a fast learner,” you hum, breath hitching when her tongue flicks over your clit again.

“She is.” Raeden hums with pride, “Very good. The gods blessed us when they brought us together.”

"Such praise, my darling." Looking down your body to where Margaery is indulging her seemingly endless curiosities in your bodies, you grip her hair in your fingers again and tug just sharply enough to make her moan. "You deserve every word of it."

She hums and preens under the praise. Feeling her cheeks heat up at the words when she should be shocked at what she is doing. There is no embarrassment. Nothing but pleasure and curiosity.

"How does your husband taste from my cunt?" As filthy as the words are, they're languid. Relaxed and indulgent. You are as curious for the answer as she is for the taste, if you are honest with yourself.

“Like ambrosia.” Margaery moans, flicking up another taste of the two of you so she can come to let you taste for yourself.

When she unfurls her tongue into your kiss it is an extension of that gorgeous indulgence, and you hum deeply as you wrap her up in your arms. "I think you might be far more eager for this arrangement than you first thought," you grin knowingly.

“I think I am.” She grins as she slides her finger down your cheek. “I am very proud to be Lady Sunstone.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Oberyn Martell #Oberyn Martell x reader #Oberyn Martell x you #Oberyn Martell x female reader #Oberyn Martell x f!reader #Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand #Margaery Tyrell #Margaery Tyrell x reader #Margaery Tyrell x male OC #Game of Thrones #soulmate au #arranged marriage #polyamory #poly

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whitecreekvalley-if · 8 months ago

Note

How would the important characters (not just the ROs, I wanna know about old man G, too!) react/behave if the MC came with a young child in tow? Not necessarily from the Ex storyline, could even just be a kid they've sorta adopted, but I'm curious.

I love it when people wanna hear about old man G <3

Charles would be the type of old man who warms up slowly, like, starts off with harrumphs when given flower crowns or asked to color something. But catch him teaching the young'un the tricks of the trade that he learned as a wee lad, and you know the grumpy old fella would protect that kid with his very life. (Might let them name a calf before the MC, even)

Mace would be over the moon because it's been a long time since he got to teach the younger generation about his way of life. You know, hard work and all that, but mostly his zest for life and love for the animals in their care, how nature works. Plus he'd have a reason to pull out ye olde trampoline. Not something a grown man can do for himself you know?

Alice doesn't exactly know how to act around kids, but she'd try her best once she and MC got closer. Might need to be smacked in the arm when she curses (imagine the "ah shit - wait no, sorry, fuck - I - argh" scenario) but she wants to be the cool kinda aunt for MCs kid. Every time she meets them, they're gonna learn something new and exciting about the town, she'll make sure of that. Might even come up with a little drink for them.

Kinda just wanna say Judge wouldn't really react, just acknowledge the child and move on, but that's no fun. His line of work doesn't really mesh well with the youngest generation, but at least he'd make sure the entire little family is safe, in his own way. Imagine the kid wanting to hear the wee woo and see the lights and him just begrudgingly obliging. That's the ultimate firm of respect lol.

Sadie would ask questions. Like does MC need help getting full custody, is the paperwork airtight, check for loopholes - she's just nice like that because she does NOT know how to deal with kids unless they're from her family tree. Unless the kid was good at debating, then she'd be there all day holding court with the little genius. She'd do her darndest to teach everything she knows too, the kid's gonna be a law whiz before 10.

BONUS!

Soledad would be the kids grandma no doubt. Watch her wobble over with her cane all the way to the ranch just to deliver a homemade nicuatole as a 'welcome to the valley' present. Will babysit in a heartbeat, and oh boy that child would learn so much from her, all from sheep shearing to cooking. I kinda wanna see it.

#wcv answered #ch: mace #ch: alice #ch: judge #ch: sadie #ch: charles #ch: soledad

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glaciertea · 6 months ago

Text

Masterlist here

Tales the Songs Weave

Ch.16<< >>Ch.18

Notes: Miguel isn't taking things very well.

CW: Rough sex, markings, oral sex (both giving/receiving), PinV, overstimulation

If anyone can tell me the name of this artist, please alert me so I can give credit where credit is fully due.

Chapter 17: I Can't Do Anything...

Word count: 7.5K

Things have certainly been off as of late.

You picked up on it when Miguel suddenly showed up to your place around two in the morning after not hearing from him regarding the other relationships in the multitude of dimensions. You probed at him, curious to know about his search and discoveries, as he only slipped into your bed, wrapped his arms around your waist, and held you close.

Not many words were spoken that night, as Miguel only mumbled praises in Spanish against your shoulder, kissing the puncture wound, and refused to loosen his grasp.

You were lost, but you allowed him to continue as you gave admiration and affection back.

And that's when you also noticed the regression in Miguel.

Whenever you throw a compliment at him, he immediately dodges it or completely denies it with the most sincerest of despondency, proclaiming he isn't anything positive that you commend him for.

You would knit your brows and counterattack his negative views on himself, which only rifted him farther.

He's been hanging around your job, nearly from opening until it closed, for the past few days, doing tasks here and there that even Ronnie couldn't help but comment on. She was joking around about it first, that her underuse was finally understanding his potential as a true employee for her, but it started to slowly freak her out.

It then took a sharp turn when Ronnie arrived one hour early to work, when a gigantic, broad brooding figure loomed by the shop's door.

Customers don't usually line up for anything here. Especially before the crack of dawn.

“What the hell?” She slowed her steps, hand in her bag, ready to mace whoever was lurking near her place of business.

Each tread seemed heavier than the last, her eyes squinting when the sturdy physique intensely wheeled its body towards Ronnie as a pair of glowing scarlet iris sharply stared into her soul. Yanking the small bottle out, she held it up and got into a defensive stance.

“I’m not afraid to spray! So I suggest you back away, and this is my only warning!”

The character shuffled around a bit, forcing her to lift the bottle higher. “Alright, you dumbass idiot, you asked for it!”

“Sé que no tienes ninguna duda. Watch where you're pointing that thing.” A familiar voice grunted out before pushing himself off the wall.

“Miguel? What the hell, man? Why are you here so early? And why are you ominously in front of my store like some creepy stalker?” Ronnie huffed out, stuffing her weapon away and pulling out her keys.

“I'm here to surprise her before she comes in.” He slogged in after Ronnie went inside.

“By being here an hour early before her shift? If that’s the case, you could come—oh, I don’t know—five minutes in advance?” She snided, settling her things behind the counter. “So why are you really here at this forsaken hour of the morning?”

Miguel placed his sunglasses on when Ronnie strolled over and turned on all of the lights. He didn’t have a clear-cut reason as to why exactly he was here before she even clocked in. He knew he should be spending these last several moments with you, taking in any time that is left before the sand trickles to the last drops of the glass. Maybe it was for the reminiscence that would ensue once that end struck, leaving only those memories of laughter and enjoyment from this cozy premise.

“I also wanted to do some of her tasks as well. I can help out with some organization or cleaning. I want to show my gratitude for all she’s done and... and will continue to do.”

Ronnie couldn’t help but scrunch her nose up. She was highly aware of how ridiculously cordial and fond you two were of each other, but there was something about that particular answer that set flaring alarms off in her head, and she did not enjoy it one bit. But she decided not to dawdle on it too much, for her sanity and potentially yours and his.

“Alright then. But as this is my place and my business, you are the lowly worker who will follow and do everything I say. Got it, peasant?”

“Ay, ¿en qué me he metido?” Miguel muttered under his breath, rubbing his scalp roughly.

“You got yourself into a load of hell, that’s what.” Ronnie retorted back, making him roll his eyes. He certainly would miss this banter.

The two spent the time going through materials and antiques, with Ronnie directing Miguel on what to do and where to exactly place certain items. There were moments when they began to clash, asserting their points in a very tolerant yet quarrelsome manner.

You tiptoed in, catching the middle of the mayhem, troubled by who Ronnie could exactly be disgruntled with already. Neither of the other two employees should be in this early, so you chalked it up to Ronnie oddly squabbling with herself until you caught wind of the second voice.

“Miggy? Miggy!” You squeaked, jogging up to him and wrapping your arms around his waist.

He returned it, but to you, it felt unfamiliar. The hugs that used to be toasty like freshly baked cookies near a warming fire on a lightly snowing winter night were polar stiffness. Numbness of distance that you haven't seen since your first encounter. And this coldness seemingly won’t melt away.

“Mi Estrella, is everything okay? Have you been feeling under the weather as of late?”

Those eyes. Those earnest and patient eyes that you give to him whenever there is something wrong. He didn’t deserve it; he never did in the first place. But he knew it was coming; he would receive the well-deserved punishment he corroded on you and the ones that surrounded you.

“Ah, no, mi… Luna. I’m okay. I have a migraine at the moment, so that's making me a bit sluggish.” He brushed the side of your face; your unsullied, delicate skin being touched by his horrendous, murderous claw seemed as if it were a privilege for him.

He will make this wrong… right.

You gave him a slight smile, kissed his arm, and knocked your head on his solid biceps. From the morning until the afternoon, Miguel barely moved away from your side. He would only leave you when you used the restroom, merely to be right back over you.

As in the previous days, he assisted by doing heavy lifting, restocking and rearranging objects, cleaning, or whatever ridiculous projects Ronnie had him do. You couldn’t understand where this sudden altar of behavior occurred, and frankly, it was throwing you for a loop.

He trudged around, picking up the vintage items, ignoring the other customers when they would come in. Lost in his own subconscious, you wearily peered in his direction, outwardly dazed just as he was.

“Yeah, you're not the only one.” Ronnie placed her tablet away and situated her elbows on the counter. “He's fighting something; I don't know what, but whatever it is, it's kicking his behind.”

A waft of air exhales from your nostrils. What could you do? There was only so much that he allowed himself to say, but now he's been virtually distant. Yes, he's been visiting more than before, and even so, something made it appear disingenuous in a way you wouldn't be able to unravel.

“I wonder if it's something I did. I mean, I know he will usually tell me when he's upset with something, but it's that internal instinct, you know?”

“Nah, I can definitely clarify that it isn't you. It has to be a job thing or a random slump; he is a very broody and moody one.”

“Ronnie.” You shot her a weighty caution not to continue.

“I'm just saying.” She threw her hands up in a defensive stance.

“I'm sorry, I'm utterly stressed out. I don't know what to do.” You rang up a customer and wished them a great day.

“Hey, don't be sorry; not good timing on my end.” Ronnie slouched on a wooden stool and crossed her arms. “I'm having a weird feeling. A hunch. I want to say that this doesn't concern me. I should only express so much, but I have a million and one opinions that are eager to yap and scream about this situation.”

Ronnie eyed your miserable and despairing state, taking the hint. “However, for your sake, I won't say anything. I'm sure things will be okay; maybe it's just that entire ‘bump in the road’ thing. Gotta do the whole, ‘be there for him,’ ‘time will heal and prevail,’ yadda, yadda, all that crap.”

She was trying to form that reassurance, the persuasion you acknowledged, but nonetheless, it fell completely flat on its face.

“Look, know I'm here for you. Things like this happen, and even with my involuntary comments, you guys will push through. And besides, I don't like my favorite being down in the dumps. I can whack his senses back for you if you want.”

Ronnie alluded to a certain bat, and you couldn't help but chuckle as your boss joined in, nudging you a few times.

“Nah, I don't think that's necessary. But, I'll let you know. Thanks, Ronnie, I appreciate it.”

“Of course, I have your back.” She gave you a side hug when Miguel meandered his way back up to the front, his eyes landing directly on you.

“I hate to go, but they need me at the HQ, mi… mi Luna. I will pick you up later on tonight, and I'll order in for us at your place, alright?”

“Yeah, that'll be good. And mi Estrella?”

Miguel forced himself to not snatch his hands away from yours when you stroked his knuckles with your thumbs. He hated this. He hated that you still give him these fragile touches, as if he's some glass waiting to break at the seams from the lightest of blows.

Because he knew he would fracture any second.

He swallowed thickly and stared into your eyes with his cowardly, shaded ones. “Ye-yes, m-mi Luna?”

“I love you. Remember, I will be here until those lavenders and marigolds are there, and all you do and continue to do will always be enough.”

Miguel's unrelaxed mannerisms weren't subtle. You carried on that set of sparkling kindness, not allowing it to fade, and he detested it. He gripped onto that animosity; you shouldn’t merit him with that patience. That tenderness. That smile. That beautiful smile.

“Thank you, mi luna. I will always treasure you.” Miguel pecked your forehead as his watch went off. “Tonight, see you later. And have a good day, Ronnie.”

“Yeah, thanks. Miguel.” There was a twinge of malice as she barely tilted her head in return, pretending to be busy with her tablet. Miguel scowled but immediately deadpanned. He didn’t need to cause you more pain.

You knotted at the sudden uncertainty and traction weaving through the air. You simply gave a faint simper and a courteous nod to try and falter the situation. “Miguel. Tonight, mi Estrella, tonight...”

The minute he stepped out, you groaned and reprimanded Ronnie, questioning if that was necessary, to which she responded, unapologetic, that it wholeheartedly was.

Miguel soberly trailed back to the HQ, his sight on the piles of buildings, businesses, and citizens marching along as if all was okay.

He was hindering this. Putting it off for as long as time will allow. The paranoia made a cozy nest; he had no plans on retiring off his brain anytime. More thoughts, more unsettling concerns, and more problems. His psyche races, speeding along to that oasis, until he hits it, only to reveal that the mirage was a cartoonishly painted brick wall of inevitability.

He pauses in front of a certain entrance. The twists and twines of ivy, the plethora of colors burning brightly into his gaze. The low-hanging flowers were beckoning him to remember how it used to be.

He took a singular step forward.

Then he drew back and faced the other way, proceeding to the HQ.

Several new strings roped themselves around him.

Teeming as usual, Miguel made his way to his domain, dismissing any others who scrambled their way to him and babbling on about mindless stories or questions. Passing the many anomalies that stockpiled because of him, because of you.

That tingle was not leaving until he had to fulfill that consequence. He leered up at the monitors encapsulating the glorious hell of the multiverse. The trillions he must protect are the ones he must sacrifice his time and days for to keep everything as it should be. Climbing onto the platform, he pressed a button, eyeing the screens as he gradually ascended.

Getting back to work, disapproving of any distractions, Jess’s voice snuck up to his ears.

“Did you do it?”

“No.” He carried on with his work, paying her no attention.

Her lips tugged into a frown, her hands in a prayer as she brought them up to her face. “Miguel, I understand this is hard for you; trust me, I do, but if we’re essentially on a timeframe, you will have to get this done.”

“I’m working on it.”

“And I get that. This must not be easy for you, and as a friend, I am truly sorry and sympathize with your pain.”

Nothing from his end, as she released an exasperated sigh. “Miguel, you have to do this. If I could, I would have helped in a way to ease the blow, but this is all on you, Miguel-”

“I know.” The pot began to bubble.

“And if what you said about your world is slowly collapsing, you have to work fast to undo this.”

“I. Know.” The water is rising.

“As much as Peter and I want to intervene, we can’t handle third parties like this. We’re trusting you. You can't dwindle.”

“I. Know!” It spilled over as he punched a hole right in his desk.

Jess closed her eyelids and fluttered them back open. “Peter and I are worried, Miguel. We are putting this faith in you. It's hard to hold onto confidential evidence as heavy as this. So, please, not as a boss but as a friend, we understand your pain, and we will be here. We just want you to make the right decisions, not wholly for us but for you as well.”

The right decision. The one he doesn't want to let go of but has to. Why? Why did this have to happen?

Miguel dug his talons right into the bed of his hair and into his scalp. Jess only studied the broken man. She saw the signs of him drifting, but she recognized this was the only way if it was to save them all.

“You could explain why it has to happen. I don't personally know her or how much you talked to her about this, but if she's been sticking around you for a good minute, she has to be understanding.”

Jess deduced that no matter what advice she utilized, it wouldn't change anything. She originally needed to discuss Gwen's insistence on visiting the boy, but figured another day would have to suffice.

“Take it easy and ease her in. We know you can handle it.” Jess strived for that upfront attitude, a conflict swelling, but she entrusted that blind eye to him, hoping he would do the right thing.

He didn't bother to dismiss her, as she took the cue and left without another sound. He snagged the other video out from the corner, despondent by it.

He was happy. He was loved. It was his fault for wanting to relive it. He was the fool in his own court.

Strings bounded more on his body, tightening their hold.

The room is nearly back in the lone void with that flicker of a dying light.

You and Miguel slouched on your couch, carelessly watching a random bad action film you threw on. The flashing glows from the screen were the only thing casting any light in the living room.

Half-eaten pancakes sat in two clear containers as you decided on breakfast for dinner, but you both couldn't digest them due to how hard they were on the stomach and the discomfort cramming in the air.

You did your best to bring in some enthusiasm, but ultimately stopped trying. Your energy was depleted, yet you still gave him space and warmth. Not much was exchanged during the duration of the film, and when he held you, that glacial contact wouldn't unfreeze at all.

“Miggy?”

“Yeah?” He barely looked downward to face you.

“Talk to me. I noticed things have been running through your mind as of late. Hell, even Ronnie detects something is up. I'm wondering if everything is okay. Is your job giving you crap again?”

Just as the first night you hung out, that pang of perturbation surged through him; you could feel it. You suspected it dealt with his work, and that reaction proved that you were on the right track. You tested to see how far you could stick yourself into the compacted cage he's in.

“After all this time, still? You are allowed to do what you have to do.”

“It's partially my job.” Lies.

“So they're not giving you a hard time?” You glide your fingertips up and down his arm, trying to subdue whatever was stirring in him.

“No, they are, fortunately not as much.” He hated this.

“That's good; that's good. I want to make sure you're okay. I've been worrying about you. After you crawled into my bed that night, it seems things have taken a turn.” You kissed his forearm.

“If you're in a slump, know I'm here, alright? We will work through this. Days like these happen, but we will go at your pace. Life is taking that unexpected turn, but we will find a way to that destination.” Your giggles flowed in his ears, nearly creating a knee-jerk reaction to move you from this position.

He hates this. He despises it so much. You don't deserve this, but he keeps giving in every time. Your comforting comments have him crawling back; your gentle nature. He needs to let go; he has to for this world.

But what has this world done for him? He gives, gives, and gives, and all it does is take, take, and take.

Yet, that's the harsh reality. It's a give-and-give with zero receiving. Not one.

He refused to open his mouth, burying his face in the crown of your hair. The room was still chilly, but you noticed the tenacious grasp had loosened some, so it was a good start. You remained this way for several minutes when you were smacked with a thought.

“Hey, mi Estrella?”

“Mhm?”

“Can you peek in your drawer? When I did some washing the other day, I think one of your shirts shrank down a bit. Can you double-check for me?”

He only nodded and untangled himself, scooting off the sofa. You waited until he was nearly in the room and leaned against the doorframe. Miguel didn't think too much of it. Kneeling down, he opened his personal drawer, ready to see the shirt on top, when his eyes suddenly cast a blank gaze.

Records. Music that he enjoyed from his childhood, in general, and ones he learned from you, and an empty picture frame with marigolds embedded in the molding.

“Surprise! I had to hunt down some of these in the shop; it was crazy. And the other week, we got a bunch more but never looked through them. But I deliberately and thoroughly took extra time, and this batch was a really good one.”

You shifted from leg to leg. “And the framework was so pretty when I spotted it as well. It reminded me of you, as corny as it sounds. You can put whatever you like in it! Maybe a stock image of empanadas.”

Your joke didn't even gain a smidge of a smirk as you ungainly crossed your arms.

He removed them one by one when another item rolled on the side, tucking itself into a corner. It was a dark violet bottle with lavenders decorating the paper wrapped around it.

“It helps ease the mind. A single spritz or two, and it should help with the aches in your brain. I tested it out when I woke up feeling off one night, and it made me feel so comfy, it startled me,” you chuckled. “Felt like I was having an out-of-body experience.”

Crouching next to him, you placed your head on his shoulder. “I hope you enjoy these. I thought maybe a few presents can be a pick-me-up, even if it's just for a few minutes.”

Those soft eyes. That smile. That patient smile. Why? Why were you so gentle? Why were you so kind to him? He did damn all to deserve these moments of clarity.

He held the items in his destructive claws and only dazed off. Why were you making this harder? Why did you have to be the one to find him that night? Why did he have to abandon his realm for this new one?

Burning blood-red eyes that have witnessed so much hatred, pain, and grief peering into ones that hold compassion. That admiring charm. That relentless amount of love.

Only for it to be gone.

A troubled look made its way onto your face. You did have second guesses about the gifts, believing it was too early to purchase things such as this when he's not in the best mindset.

“Do… do you not like them? I was thinking that it might have been bad timing, but I wanted to make sure things were oka-”

His lips were on yours. His claws energetically roam your curves and softness. Your unruly tongues collided as you enfolded your arms over his shoulders, locking your hands in place.

Miguel pulled you both to your feet, hoisted your legs up, and forced them around his waist. He easily steadied you up and onto the creaky bed, still connected in that fierce duel. You do all of this for him. So much for a disgusting creature who is greedy and unmindful of others.

It's only fair.

It was only fair to give you the last bout of tenderness, lust, and passion. To give any final positive emotions he had clinging onto the edge. To give it all away before it becomes another cautious tale for others to heed and understand.

It's only fair that you are granted one last act of affection from him.

You were sweet; you smelled so divine. The sugary syrup was still fresh on your lips, and your soft moans grew as Miguel grinded against you, his length growing under the fabric of his suit. He wanted to take his time. He has to; this is for you; you both will never have this again.

You pull away, sucking in an abundance of air. Your lips were puffy and red, while Miguel only watched. You started to speak until Miguel took your back in, nibbling your bottom lip, his tongue down your throat, and whirling it madly.

Miguel has never acted this way before. You would joke around about how he's a predator who is delightful and soft to his prey, but now he evidently might have stripped away that title to be a full-blown predator. You were frightened, though highly aroused. Your hands massaged his shoulders, but it was nearly impossible to get rid of any tension in them. Finally, you managed to pry away from the starved kiss and gulp down some more air.

“Miggy, are you stressed out? If this is your way of saying you want to take out some frustration on me, all you had to do was ask.” You laughed, nudging your forehead into his.

The joyous sounds began to die down when Miguel didn't make a single peep. Those intense irises were all you mainly focused on. You were seriously fucking worried.

“Is... Miguel, is everything okay? You haven't said much, and I want to help, but I don't know how much I'm allowed in for this-”

“I want to make love to you. Will you allow me?” He said it in an unsettling tone.

That caught you off-guard. You gaped, your mouth opening and closing like a fish on dry land. “I-I, I mean you can. You are allowed, yes.”

“Will you allow me to fuck you?” He commanded, but he also sounded distressed.

That severely caught you off-guard. There is something going on. Miguel is a straightforward man, but not excessively concrete when it comes to intimate moments. You primarily decide to discuss whatever was going on after; even though now would have been better, there was a desperation in his eyes.

“Yes, mi Estrella, you can, but please know we should tal- mmph!”

Once again, you were cut off by the lip lock, as it somehow amplified. His conscience was growing berserk; he had to please you. He needed to. He had to.

He ripped off your tank top. You wanted to protest, impishly pretending to be displeased, but stayed hushed. Your back arched when he harshly groped your breasts, tweaking and squeezing the nipples. He tugged and pulled them, his unsheathed claws carefully dragging against the smooth mounds, taking in your faint moans.

Circling the areola, he bent downward, taking a hardened bud in his mouth, sucking and greedily gnawing at it. Your fingers stroke his hair, releasing a comforting sigh.

Maybe it was the mass of stress from work catching up to him. It explains the haziness and absence in his eyes whenever you observe him in his current condition. Tapping his head, you pulled Miguel out of his trance of mindlessly moving back and forth between your breasts.

“Miggy?”

“Yes?” He popped the right nipple out of his mouth and scanned your face to see if something was wrong.

“I was thinking… When was the last time I’ve gone down on you?”

He froze. No, this isn’t what was supposed to happen. He was going to only take care of you because you needed this. He shouldn’t receive any treatment from you.

Yet, when he stares into those tempting eyes, he wanders in, adoring the feeling of becoming lost in them.

“I-I can’t remember. Maybe a week or two ago? I–I don’t know.” He was being selfish. This is for you, not him. He fought and shoved those malicious thoughts of your lips around him.

How your pretty little lips will engulf each inch for him.

He mentally shook them aside.

“I want to care for you. Will you allow me to, mi Estrella?”

Internally, he's shouting, dismissing any variety of pleasure that he shouldn't rightfully have. But, to make you happy, he will do whatever pleases you because you're the one who is truly deserving.

“Ay, si, mi… mi Luna.” With no hesitation, he swaps positions, mounting you on his stomach.

“Suit, mister, I feel you poking me with that stick.” You grinned, eyebrows wagging flirtatiously. A rising quiver of a smile nearly trailed his lips until he dropped it.

“Don't worry, mi Estrella, I'll make sure you feel extra, extra good.” You rubbed his unseen chest, igniting that excitement in you. “Now, the suit, Miggy.”

This was your rule, and he must follow through no matter what. Removing the gear entirely, he powered down, detached his communication watch, and tossed it on your nightstand. Nothing will deflect him from this.

“There we go. Let me value and dedicate my devotion to you.” Your fingers drifted across his pecs, the curves and indents of his muscles, your mouth watering at this marbled bronze beauty of a man who lay underneath.

You wondered if you had unknowingly sealed a deal with the devil. A contract you'll never break.

“What did I do to get you?” You tried to knead any strain from him, “Tell me what I did to get an amazing, gorgeous man like yourself on my bed, lying beneath me?”

You left feather-light kisses anywhere you could on his scarred, tanned skin, your tongue occasionally dipping into the nicks of his rough skin and creeping up to his neck, nibbling the brawny flesh. Your warm breath sends prickles down his spine, gaining a ragged grunt.

Miguel caught the rebuttals that were ready to tumble out. He’s not entitled to spoil this for you. His brain was a broken record; he replayed one thing over and over, skipping over the other lines that got lost in the track: ‘For her. This is for her. All of this is for her.’

His shaft ached for you; he tried to keep the begs in, but they taunted him. “Mi… Ah- mi Luna... por favor, necesito que me toques—I need you to—”

“Shh, yes, mi Estrella. I will take care of you.” You whispered against his chest, edging yourself down tantalizingly slowly.

He had to prevent himself from bucking and compulsively rushing you down with his hands. He could only observe your engaging lips making their way down until you finally made it to his pulsating, raging erection.

“Whoa, Miggy, I don't think I've ever seen it this prominent. Everything about you is so beefy.” You snickered, eyeing the phallus. His tip was red-hot; thick heaps of transparent fluids smothered most of the firm length, veins webbing from nearly all sides.

“Let's see.” You tapped the glans a couple times before brushing your fingertip over the body to the base and back up. You were the paintbrush, and Miguel was the canvas.

Sucking in air through his teeth, he keenly watched you stroking him, adding finger after finger until you wrapped around him. “You're so big, mi Estrella. I love this cock so much.”

You hummed, leaving random peppered kisses, before pumping in a steady manner. He groaned, his head writhing on the pillow.

“There it is. Don't hold back, okay, mi Estrella?” Your hand held that rhythmic motion as the other crept its way up his meaty thigh and began to palm at his balls.

Miguel pursed his lips as your wispy digits generated electrifying jolts. He was unfit to be touched by you. The twisting on his cock and the cupping on his sack sent his brain into a fever.

He couldn't control his moans when your tongue found his balls, flicking and twirling between the two. He gripped the linen at the vibrations when you purred and lifted your head back up.

“Joder, Luna mía, por favor, por favor no, necesito poder cuidar de ti—Aah!”

You enveloped a quarter of him, noisily slobbering as many fluids drooled down your chin and on his trimmed pubic hair. Bobbing up and down, you cautiously squeezed his scrotum, moaning to send exhilarating thrills to him.

“I- fuck me, I-I need, I can't-” Miguel gasped when you swallowed more until he reached the back of your throat.

You were on a mission to have him submit and relax. Placing both hands on his thighs, you sped up. Your hooded eyes peering up into his hypnotic, mesmerizing iridescent ones. Your tongue glided and swirled in spirals as you sucked in your cheeks to have it rub against them.

Miguel groaned at the warmth of your mouth, tangling his fingers into your hair, and bucked his hips. Tears rushed down as you deep-throated him like your life depended on it.

He was so big, but you didn't care; it was just you and him, no one else. You were determined as you moved quicker, gagging yourself as the suction got louder.

He was prepared to burst; your muffled moans and his were harsh in his eardrums. Your nails pricked his tough skin, imprinting markings on them. Pushing your tongue out, you uncontrollably bobbed your head, tasting the delectable saltiness from his pre-ejaculation.

Your palms caressed his abs and proud V-line, not lessening your immediacy and craving for him to spill over, when you were hastily moved away from his cock and twisted on your back.

His eyes were glowering, a darkened red, as he took in your disordered, foggy state. Drool and his filth were running down the sides of your mouth.

“Mig- mi Estrella, you didn't get to—wait, wait! Miggy, let me- Miguel!”

He tore your pajama bottoms and panties off in one fell swoop and stared. It was perfect. Your murky juices shimmered on the sheets, seeping out, as you clenched at nothing. The pride that usually swarms through his veins was blocked out. He couldn't be proud of that anymore.

He moved himself between your legs, spreading them all the way, and bound them to the bed. You fidgeted, poking at the silky netting, before he took your wrists and pushed them over your head.

“I will make you feel a way you never felt.” He snarled on your neck, forming goosebumps all over.

“O-okay.” Was all you could squeak out.

He traced phantom lines and circles against the inner thighs and outer folds, concentrating on memorizing your delicate skin and listening to your sharp breaths and drawn-out moans. He alternated between light touches and firm pressure, letting your wetness soak his fingers.

“Mi-Miggy.” Your eyelids waned in anticipation, his darkened gaze having you timidly shiver.

He brought himself to his knees and dipped his head, the air dense with temptation. Nipping and biting the soft flesh, he worked his way up and reached your heated sex as streams of wind came from his nose onto your sensitive, swollen clit. The need in your loins and stomach was heady in temperature.

“Mi–Mi Estrella!” You blurted that out louder than you thought.

“Sé que sé.” Licking the outline of your pussy with his tongue and along the slit. Your chest heaved, hands running through his curly locks, whimpering out from the lazed movements.

You were enjoying yourself; that’s what he wanted. What he wanted? The mental feud began to sink in.

No longer taking his time, he dove in, lapping up your sweet nectar. He slurped and flitted at every tender spot he found on your folds and labia.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head at the sudden change of mood. He is a sheer predator at this moment.

“Oh, Miggy, this pussy is all yours–mmn!

You squeezed around his tongue as Miguel switched between rolling your clitoris with his teeth and fingers, operating in an uneven pattern.

He melted into your sopping pussy, swashing the juices as he buried his head, wagging it fanatically. His claws penetrate your skin, generating his own engravings.

His grunts sent sparks shooting up your spine. You were in space; you could see the whole infinite universe. Your raspy pants picked up when he devoured your vagina, trembling over every sloppy taste and lap.

“Miguel, I'm close!” You slurred in that drunken blur. Your walls tighten around the invasive, ravaging appendage.

Increasing the intensity, he sucked harder, your nails clawing his shoulders as your back curled off the bed when he pushed three of his sheathed, long digits into your hole, pumping wildly.

“Mi-Miguel, OH SHIT-”

“Mmph! Mmmn!”

His tongue wriggled over the throbbing nub, his fingers spraying out your creaminess over his palms whenever they came into contact with your folds.

White was the only thing you saw as a powerful climax washed over. Your figure trembled as your muscles quivered and pulsated.

Hoarse cries escaped, your body shimmering in sweat, mouth open, and eyes glazed over. You are an angel to him.

“Holy- holy shit... Miggy, that was... You were an animal, I-”

You were disrupted when he intrusively gave you a rough kiss, tasting the tang on his tongue. The mesh was removed, and his sheathed hands clumsily roamed, pinched, and grasped any part of your body, wanting to savor these last moments.

“Miggy, everything will be okay. Whatever is going on, know I'm here.” You pecked his check, leaving even more on his neck.

He nearly strangled out a sob. You were so generous. Unselfish. He needed you. He wanted you one final time.

Why was he so inconsiderate?

“I need… I need you; please let me…”

“You can have me, mi Estrella. You always can, because I trust you.”

Several strings snapped in place.

Grabbing your leg, he bent it up to your chest, and wrapped some web around your ankle. He shot the silk to the ceiling, tugging it a couple of times to make sure it was in place. You trembled, looking up at Miguel. The fervid stare wouldn't disappear; your vision was hazy. You were displayed as he raked his eyes over your panting lips and the sweat dribbling from every gland.

A glistering art piece in the infinite night's heavens. Art that is being defaced by his corruptive hands.

Squeezing your grappled thigh, he positioned himself once more, taking the other leg around his waist and shoving himself in one go. He rutted into you, and the bed impacted into the wall repeatedly as it clashed with your cries and shouts of pleasure.

“Mi-Miguel! Slo-slow down! Slow–ah!”

His cock was rubbing up your walls, taking in every squelch, every squish, and every drenched slapping as you constricted, squeezing the thick, veiny shaft as he thrust with his crazy speeds.

Your wetness sloshed out on his lower abdomen and thighs with every bullish lurch. The sheets were defiled with murky blotches as Miguel dug his talons into your outer thigh, a few trickles of blood seeping out. Your screams could be heard from the whole apartment floor.

In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

That hammering pace never lets up, his length throbbing as he remembers every part of your velvety pussy fluttering and tightening. Every cry you made, every euphoric moan because of his cock molding and overwhelming your loving, yearning sex.

The bedframe cried alongside you. Shocking jolts coursed through your veins, and drops of tears ran down your cheeks, nose, and mouth as you tasted the salty water. Miguel grunted close, nipping your earlobe and feeling his fangs graze against it.

He heard his and your hearts beating irregularly, his hip bones buckling into yours, which would surely leave bruises in the morning. The engorged cock bulging you with each fill. He needed to remember all the senseless garbles and whimpers.

This beautiful face.

Enclosing your arms around his taut, damp neck, you croaked and gasped out vulnerable and cherishing remarks.

“I love you, mi Estrella! Oh–mmn, you are wonderful to me!”

He clenched up, his hips involuntary picking up more momentum.

Don't say that.

“You deserve the world; you deserve this! You deserve it!” Your whines chimed louder.

He growled out, leaning down, and rolled his pelvis into yours uncoordinatedly and immoderately. The floorboards groan with each jolt as the bed legs scrape against the wood.

No, I'm a monster. Don't say that.

His arms crash down to each side of your head, his razor-edged fingertips slashing up the fabrics underneath. Your fluids covered both lower regions as they dripped down to your bottom and splattered on your stomach and his abs.

With foggy vision and a heavy head, you couldn't handle the overstimulation. Your brain was so far gone that you could hardly continue the enchanting praises. Eyes flickering in the back, you sink your nails in his skin, your bounded leg losing its feeling, but the battering from Miguel overwrites it as his bulbous tip abused your cervix, refusing to hold back.

“So- so good—so, so, amazing.” You slurred as he found the right spot once more. “Ah! Don't stop! Oh, Miguel, I love you!”

Why?! Don't say that! Why do you make this so damn difficult?!

A guttural, animalistic noise reverberated from his chest and throat. He tore right into your blankets and mattress. He yanked one claw out of the tattered furniture, slicing the web, as you yelped at your limb suddenly collapsing back on the bed.

“Miggy!”

He picked you up by the sides, propping himself on his knees and lodging his clawed feet in the bed. He hooked your legs around his waist and lower hip. You didn't loosen your hold on his neck, as his robust arms kept your back sturdy, his chest against yours.

He pressed a kiss against the puncture wound, erupting back into his beastly action.

His balls striking against your ass, your melodious moans and raw whines, his low groans and husky rasping, and the crashing collisions of your sticky, soaked bodies resounded all over the rooms.

You would put any orchestral symphony to shame.

You took every inch. You were able to be molded by him. He will look back on your beautiful expressions from every passionate session. He will think back on how he was the one to make you float and feel these incredible sensations.

“Miguel! Mi Estrella! I-I can't keep–Aah!”

“Fuck—mmn- fuck, fuck, fuck-”

Those screams, those dilated pupils, the dribbles of spit, tears, and sweat raining down on your face and body.

This body. He will never forget your body.

A carnal, maniac tempo set further, his cock ramming into your insides. He will recall how you perfectly squeezed for him or how he rubbed your g-spot so nicely to elicit more raspy wails for the Gods above.

“I love you! Oh Miguel!”

I'm so sorry.

He will never forget your love. He will never disregard these tender and compassionate moments with you.

He captured your lips. Your tongues in a slow, mellow waltz, despite the contrast of the barbaric movements. Placing his forehead on yours, he choked back another sob. He will miss this display of affection.

“I'm close! I'm close! I'm–I'm- Miguel!”

You screeched out, shockwaves convulsing from head to toe. Goosebumps took over as you shivered and clamped around Miguel, whose thrusts were irregular as he neared his release.

He will miss you taking every drop of him. He will miss how you devoted a part of your life to him.

He will never forget the kids that ran through his head. In that ever-growing garden of beauty and goods, with your smile and his eyes.

Miguel shuddered and roared out, shooting thick webs of white deep into your core. He didn't stop until he was empty, and every vile string painted and coated every part of your walls.

You whined when his fangs pricked your neck, essentially stabbing at it. He didn't let up either. He remained this way for a few moments as blood ran down your shoulder. You were fully immobilized.

Pulling out, he licked and cleaned the wound, slowly laying you down. Streams of his essence spilled out until he forcibly gathered a satisfying amount and shoved it back into you.

“Mi... Mig... I love... you... you are a... laven…”

You couldn't move a single thing, not even your eyes. He inserted a good amount. You listened to your heart palpitate in your eardrums. In the morning, things can be discussed and disputed.

He only stared at your spent and limp body, covered in bruises, marks, scratches, and hickies. He skimmed over at the shredded covers and mattress, and dents now left on your wall. The floor must be damaged and streaked.

There was no clarity. There are no remedies for this tormenting misery. Only disgust, bile hatred, and disdain for the cardinal sin he imposed on you.

Strings covered his legs and lower torso.

The intoxicating aroma lingered in the atmosphere, his nose picking up every scent of your lovely fragrance and his putrid stench.

He slid off the bed and into the bathroom, coming out with freshly dry and damp rags and a tube of pain ointment. He intensively wiped and cleansed your body, applying the cream over the scars he caused.

You evidently appeared relaxed. Your chest was rising in a gradual, even sequence, as you were fast asleep. You're at peace. You've been tainted for the last time.

Miguel snared, then went vacant. That itch was heightening, or was that guilt? He imposed an act so heinous, an act so atrocious for his true motives. He couldn't keep doing this to you. Disturbing you with his recklessness in a falsified manner that he disguised as devotion, fondness, and appreciation…

I'm so sorry, mi Luna…

He stroked your cheek, hot teardrops streaming down from the tip of his nose onto your beauty. He took in every feature, from every lash to every perfection you found imperfect. This is what he wanted to retain the most of. Being able to gaze upon this gentle, compassionate, and divine soul one last time.

Especially after such an undignified exploitation.

He leaned his forehead on yours and let a tortured cry out.

“I'm so sorry, Mi Luna. For all the burdens I have borne. You won't have to bear them any more.”

He didn’t get any sleep that night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@ella-janehaven @prozacgooble @sanguwuxyoonbummy

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