#of blooms & bounties

[anonymocha]

My favorite little goobers (Click is 3 patches away from being replaced).

Using @titaniumions’ template! I rambled about each of them before. Here’s that post.

[sparklehoard]

Seed shaker bombs are LOCKED and LOADED 🌼🌷🪻⚘️🌼🌷🌼🪻🌼⚘️🌼⚘️🪻🌷🌼

[herbalnature]

Gentle blueberry blossoms cascade against a backdrop of rustic wooden fencing, a serene blend of nature's simplicity and garden charm. It's like a little sneak peek at the sweet bounty that's to come.

[brilliantlybee]

Being in Wellness

Here are some "bee" words that can be associated with wellness.

Here are some “bee” words that can be associated with wellness: Balance: Maintaining a balance in life is essential for overall wellness, just like bees balance their hive’s activities. Breathe: Proper breathing techniques are crucial for relaxation and wellness, akin to how bees rely on air circulation in the hive. Be Present: Wellness often involves being present in the moment, similar to…

[photogumbo]

Bountiful Blooms . . . for the week of July 1st.

[untoterxhund]

ღ eheheh hi :3

attraction meme

Inbox me a ‘ღ’ and I’ll rate you with the following:

Romantic attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extreme Sexual attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extreme Aesthetic attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extreme Sensual attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extreme

[perlelune]

Oblivion | Paul Atreides

There used to be beginnings and ends, nights and days, dream and reality, before the haze took over, swallowing every thought, every memory, every whisper of free will.

Warnings: NON-CON, Fremen Reader, Kynes!Reader, Mind Control, Memory Manipulation, Padishah Emperor Paul, Loss of Identity, Brainwashing, Mentions of war and religious fanaticism

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

Muad’Dib leads the way. 

It is what the prophecy dictates. That he is the voice from the Outer World. The one who will lead your people to paradise. The one who will turn Dune’s arid desert lands into bountiful, endless green fields. 

But as your eyes rest on him, you do not see the chosen one. You do not see the Lisan Al-Ghaib. You see your friend Paul, broken, lost, his heart shattered into a million pieces due to your cousin’s absence. 

He sits at the head of his bed, shadows fluttering across his delicate features from the glowglobes’ dull orange light. Wide black rings surround his sunken blue eyes, the result of his daily consumption of spice melange. Lank, greasy brown curls hang around his handsome face. A pang twists your chest. He hasn’t slept in days, has barely gotten a full night of replenishing sleep since she left on a maker’s back.

You cannot blame your cousin. Paul’s ascendency to the Golden Lion throne came at a cost. A hefty one. Promises were broken. Trust was destroyed. Only time will repair the damage that was done. Though you carry faith the two of them will find their way back to each other. 

You stir the spice-coffee in the pot, straining the shimmering dark powder before pouring some in a cup. A spicy cinnamon smell coats the cool night air. 

You rise and bring the cup to him.

“For you, Usul.”

A soft smile blooms on his lips as he takes a slow, weary sip.

“You make it so well,” he praises.

You glow at the compliment, returning his smile. Your grandmother used to show you and Chani how to blend coffee beans with spice and herbs. The knowledge never left you. Now, every time you feel troubled or upset, you make a fresh kettleful. A single sip of the familiar brew is enough to alleviate your frazzled nerves. Especially here, so far away from Sietch Tabr, between the strange stone walls of the Arrakeen Keep, you have craved little reminders of home more than ever before.

Fremen belong in the desert, not in peculiar tents made of marble and stone.

Paul’s brows crumple as he studies you. 

“You don’t have to take care of me,” he says.

“I can get another Fremen-”

His fingers latch around your wrist, desperation sizzling under his touch. 

“I prefer it to be you.” He sighs. A bone deep fatigue radiates from the sound. You halt in your tracks. You suppose you could stay a while longer. “Please, stay, your presence soothes me.”

You nod. “I’ll stay, Muad’Dib.”

Relief falls over his features. 

The doors suddenly open, the guards stepping aside to let Stilgar in. He bows to Paul.

“Lisan Al-Ghaib…”

Your friend’s mouth flattens into a thin line. 

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

Stilgar acquiesces. He will never stop addressing Paul with reverence and admiration. None of his followers believes in him more. At times, it scares you a little. While you share the same faith, the fervor with which every Fedaykin is willing to lay their swords in his name can be frightening. Sometimes you wonder if Chani was right. How much will it take to liberate your world? How much blood will require spilling? You’re not completely naive. No war was ever won without a few casualties. Still, part of you hopes the war will end soon and peaceful times will come.

“No sign of her?” Paul asks. 

A contrite expression tugs the older man’s face.

“Apologies, my liege. We scouted the Southern regions this time. We couldn’t find her. She knows the desert well. It is home to us Fremen. She will not be found…”

“...Unless she wants to be found,” you finish, grabbing the empty cup from Paul’s hands and placing it back on the table.

The faint embers of hope in Paul’s cobalt gaze flicker out. Your heart sinks, for both you and him. Though you do not wish to burden him, you miss your cousin too. Her practicality and common sense. Her strength. Without her, a piece of you is missing. A crucial one. Your mother died in childbirth and your father in battle, so both of you grew up together, close enough in age to share secrets and play together for most of your childhood. 

It was Chani who taught you how to summon a worm and ride upon its back for the first time. She is the sister tragic circumstances blessed you with.

Stilgar apologizes profusely once more before taking his leave.

As soon as he’s gone, Paul’s shoulders slump.

“She hates me.” 

You crouch beside him.

“She doesn’t hate you. She never could. She is your quiet in the storm, and you are hers. She will return when she is ready.”

A wry laugh escapes his lips. 

“I have Irulan, my beloved wife, who is likely plotting my demise as we speak. Qizarate missionaries pressing me to take action and purge the non-believers on Aldinor. I am surrounded by foes, everywhere I look.” That distant expression he gets whenever his visions haunt him touches his face. “Blades pointed at my neck at all times, waiting for a sign of weakness to strike.”

You grab his hand, reassuring him, “You also have friends, Usul, who believe in your cause.”

“Fanatics,” he corrects bitterly. 

Your chest swells with worry. You don’t like it when he questions himself as such. His cause is right. He freed Arrakis from the Harkonnen’s iron-fisted rule. He will bring peace to every world in the universe. It is written. It’s the only path forward.

“You are not alone.” His fingers squeeze around yours. Warmth rushes to your face, the realization that you’re awfully close to the Emperor striking you. You adjust the nezhoni scarf covering your hair and rise. “I shall let you rest, my Lord.”

“Stay, please.”

His tone is beseeching. Your gaze swings to the window. There, moon beams pierce through the colorful glass, scattering rainbow splashes of light across the floor. Vibrant stars pepper the dark sky, pearls lost in a sea of ink. It’s pitch black outside. You should be in your own room. Not his.

“Muad’Dib, it’s late…”

His grip on your hand tightens. When he speaks again, his tone is different. Disembodied. Powerful. Its tantalizing echo drips inside your head like honey. 

“Stay,” he mumbles. You plop down on the bed, your body moving on its own, driven by the strange, irresistible thrall of Paul’s voice.

“Usul…” 

He cups your cheeks. 

“Sleep beside me tonight.”

“I’m not her.”

“I don’t want you to be.”

“She should be with me and she isn’t. But you are.” His inflection becomes soft and inviting as he drinks you in. As if he were lumbering through the desert, parched and desperate, and you were a well overflowing with fresh water. “You are beautiful. I never noticed before.” He pauses, tracing your bottom lip. “Perhaps I should have.”

You blink, dazed. When did Paul’s face get so close to yours? You can outline each of his long lashes, the speckles of green lingering in his blue eyes. 

“Paul-”

His mouth grazes yours, his thumb stroking your cheeks. It only lasts a few seconds. The warm plushness of his lips on yours yanks you back to reality. You gasp and flinch back. When you recoil, his silky tone fills your ears once more.

“Don’t fight it. You love me, remember?”

A confused whisper slips through your lips. Two parts of your mind wrestle with Paul’s words. 

“I do?”

His eyes dive into yours.

“Of course, you do.”

“Of course I do,” you repeat, his tone nudging aside the doubts lurking inside your mind. 

A bright smile unfurls on his lips, his lids sagging to half-mast.

“It’s like you said before. You are my quiet in the storm and I am yours.”

Right. You uttered those very same words. How could you forget?

You are Paul’s quiet in the storm. He is yours.

His mouth covers yours. It moves slowly against your own. He explores your mouth as he cradles your face. His long lashes fall over his cheekbones as he loses himself in your taste. He hums against your lips, gentle fingers touching your face. You don’t move, eyes half-open as you let it happen. It’s foreign, the sensation of Paul’s lips on yours. Foreign and strange yet you can’t help but numbly accept it. 

Once he frees your lips, he rests his forehead against yours. 

“Come into my arms, my love,” he says.

You don’t resist as he pulls you into his embrace, nudging you onto the bed. Soft strands of Paul’s brown mane brush against your cheek as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your spice-coated scent. 

His arms circle your waist. Your back melds against his chest, the warmth of your bodies mingling through the thin layers of your clothes. 

“You smell so good,” he mutters. Your scarf shifts when he rubs his face against it. “Don’t ever leave me.”

When you don’t reply, his tone gets firmer. “Promise it.”

The words roll off your tongue easily.

“I won’t ever leave you, Paul.”

Tension leaks out of his tightly coiled muscles. 

“Good,” he says, drifting off to sleep quickly with you nestled in his snug embrace. 

You fall asleep too, no thoughts in your head, Paul’s soft snores lulling you into peaceful slumber. 

You awake with a start, the stark unfamiliarity of the palatial chambers you find yourself in causing your pulse to soar. Your eyes dart about the room. Recognition hits you. These are the Emperor’s apartments.

Your eyes grow wide. You’re not supposed to be here. Panic sets in.

“W-What am I doing here?”

Paul’s quiet voice flows across your back.

“Calm down.”

“No. I shouldn’t be here…”

You start crawling off the bed but Paul’s fingers around your wrist impede your departure. 

He holds your face, vibrant blue eyes locking with yours. You find yourself incapable of looking away, ensnared by his unflinching focus.

“I said, Calm down.”

The alarms ringing inside your head fall quiet. You lean into Paul’s touch. What were you doing? What were you thinking? Every thought you attempt to grasp at evaporates in the heat of Muad’Dib’s stare. 

“There. Much better,” he coos, satisfaction hovering on his handsome face. His voice sinks into a sensual whisper. “Why don’t you kneel for me?”

You do as he instructs. Then all fades to black as quicksands of confusion engulf your thoughts. 

When you return to yourself, you aren’t on the bed anymore, but on your knees on the carpeted floor. 

Paul is looming over you, grunting, his throat bobbing. One of his hands is curled around your nape while the other is under your jaw. 

You note the saltiness coating your tongue, the drool on your chin, the soreness in the back of your throat. 

You choke on his length, air wavering inside your lungs. 

Paul’s cock is in your mouth. 

The sick, awful realization tumbles over you like a bag of stones. 

Muffled moans leave you as you lift pleading eyes towards him.

You place your hands on his thighs, shoving with all your strength. 

Paul doesn’t let you move. He cradles your face and thrusts inside your mouth until his balls are pressed into your chin. 

Clouds of lust obscure his gaze as it falls upon you. 

He caresses your face, dragging his cock out before pushing it inside your mouth again. Gurgled sounds leave your throat. Tears skip down your cheeks and you wonder when you’ve started crying. 

Fremen do not cry. Ever. Even for the dead. It is a rare, sacred act.

Paul wipes them off your face with his thumbs. 

“You love me. It is what lovers do,” he says matter-of-factly.

Your body relaxes. 

Right. Of course. You love him. It is what lovers do. 

You hollow your cheeks and suck him off. He unleashes a throaty sigh of delight as you pleasure him with your mouth. 

When his seed drips down your tongue, he coaxes you not to waste a single drop. You swallow all of it, showing no resistance when he nudges a stray drop between your wet lips. 

Several days in a row, you awake in the emperor’s chambers. At first, you experience great confusion. However, Paul’s soothing words always quell your rising panic. It becomes all you know. The Emperor’s mesmerizing voice. His large, soft bed. His ceaseless, ravenous touch. 

Sweaty, tangled limbs melting in lewd harmony.

You stop questioning it. Even the strange lapses of time when you are in one room and mysteriously wind up in another. It isn’t rare for you to wake up with the Emperor’s head bobbing between your thighs, greedily lapping at your folds, or with your hips grinding into his as he impales you on his cock. 

It is where you belong. And you believe him when he says that, mumbling loving promises into your ear in the dead of night.

“If we do not strike fast and hard, they will not accept your rule,” Stilgar says. 

“They worship a false god. We are doing them a favor,” another man sitting at the table interjects. 

A shaky exhale flows from your tongue. You look around, dismay filling you when you realize you’re in Paul’s war room amidst a council meeting. Your head throbs. How did you get here?

You rise from your chair. Bemused gazes land on you. 

Princess Irulan snickers from her seat.

“Husband, your concubine is acting strange,” she sneers.

Concubine? You step away from the table.

You blink several times as you stumble outside. You grip your temples, your forehead scrunching. That cannot be right. Is it? 

You are no one’s concubine. 

You are…

You are…

Adrenaline pumps through your blood as your head buzzes. 

The answer will not come, your mind keeping it under firm lock and key.

Frustration mounts within you. You blindly waddle around.

You end up in a room that bears vague familiarity. You lean against a basin full of water. Water…just lying around. That seems strange.

Your eyes land on a mirror on the opposite wall. The reflection in the glass has your heart rate spiking. Who is this?

You bolt to your feet, the water in the basin splashing around your feet. 

Your tremulous fingers rise to your face, horror filling you when the woman in the mirror mimicks your exact motions. 

Your gaze travels across the wide, open space. Quick breaths rush from your throat. The Emperor’s room. Why did you think it was your room? 

You stagger backwards. You gasp as you bump into a solid form.

You whirl, eyes widening.

“Paul.”

He gauges you, slight concern etched in his blue eyes. Relief fills you as you soak in his boyish, slender features, much more familiar than those of the stranger in the mirror. 

You know Paul. Muad’Dib. Paul is familiar, safe. You trust him. He will tell you who you are.

“Yes, my love?”

“Paul, who am I?”

A displeased frown settles on his brow. He approaches you and grabs your face. His expression hardens.

“You are mine. Nothing else matters.”

“But Paul-”

Your protests are stifled by the feverish press of his lips on yours. A fog surrounds your thoughts as his kiss grows more passionate, his hands sweeping over your curves. You place your hand on his chest, pushing feebly.  

“Forget it. Forget it all, beloved,” he mumbles against your lips. You sag against him. You drown in Paul’s blue eyes, time stretching beyond eternity. 

When you gain a semblance of awareness, your naked form is writhing above Paul’s. Your palms are spread over his lithe muscles, your hips moving as he slams his cock into your cunt repetitively. Paul bites his lip, his gaze glued to the sight of his length disappearing between your wet folds. 

When did you get on the bed? When did you shed your clothes?

Every inquiry melts in the heat swirling across your damp flesh. 

Your lashes flutter as you unleash a broken whimper, Paul’s hard length touching you in places that send electricity rippling through your spine.

You tighten around him and he purrs. 

“Remember nothing but my name,” he rasps, clutching your hips possessively. He impales you on his length, thrusting faster. You choke on your breath, his quickening pace driving you wild.

You brace yourself on his chest and lose yourself in the pleasure, your breath hitching each time he pounds into you.

The filthy sounds of your coupling fill the room, bouncing off the stone walls. Paul’s deep, animalistic moans. Your soft, desperate whimpers. The blunt, wet sounds your cunt makes as he buries himself inside you. The bed rattling and squeaking under your writhing forms.

“Paul, Paul…” you pant as you bounce on his cock. An intensity ignites his eyes as his name falls from your tongue like a prayer. You toss your head back, voice dying in your throat as another wave of pleasure crashes over you. Your toes flex. You tremble, your body jolting as your slick walls flutter around his length. A husky moan leaves him. He twitches inside you. His back lifts from the sheets, his body tensing as he hits his peak too. Slick warmth spills from his tip, glazing your walls. 

An errant sliver of panic lurks inside your brain. Your eyes bulge as you glance down at where your body and Paul’s are conjoined. Rapid breaths burst from your chest.

Seeming to sense your distress, he shoves your hips back down when you try to squirm away.

His authoritative voice booms across the room, unnatural, multiplied. Everywhere at once. 

“Do not move, beloved. Let me fill you up. Make you mine in every way.”

Your breaths settle down. Your worries disappear. You look into Paul’s loving gaze. A smile unfans on his lips as you ride him with abandon again.

“What are you doing?”

You pivot at the abrupt sound of Paul’s voice. You pause above the bag you’re packing. You peer at him, mulling over an appropriate answer to his question. You do not find one. You only know that you stirred awake that morning, feeling strange, sore…Lost. The urge to collect your meager belongings and leave the Arrakeen Keep seared inside you since then. A hollow, distant voice rings inside your head.

Return to Sietch Tabr.

“I have to go. Something…Something isn’t feeling right.”

The muscles of Paul’s jaw flare, his tone as ice as he states, “You want to leave me.”

Discarding your bag, you rush to him. You take his hands in yours.

“No. I made you a promise. I just need time to think…I can’t think anymore, Paul.”

It’s true. Every day feels like trudging through a Coriolis storm, your thoughts scattering as dust in the wind the minute they form.

Everything that was solid before is now sand slipping through your fingers.

Paul’s gaze corrals yours.

“You don’t need to,” he says, gripping your face. His tone dips to a soft lilt that penetrates your senses. “Who are you?”

You search his eyes. A breeze blows away every single doubt you had.

The answer to every inquiry you had is right there. In Paul’s fond stare.

The persistent little voice in your head, that pesky plea begging to be heard suddenly falls quiet. The truth echoes in your head, Paul’s powerful voice filling your mind.

You are right where you belong. 

“I’m yours,” you utter with certainty.

His face softens. “That is correct, my love,” he says, stroking your cheek.

“Now, why don’t you settle down, beloved?” You let him escort you to the bed, coaxing you to take a seat on the sheets. “Agitating yourself as such isn’t good for you.”

He sinks to the floor and drops a gentle kiss over your round belly.

“And it’s not good for the baby either.”

[auraunbound]

The gentle rolling of the cushy Pasque Arms company car managed to soften each and every bump in the road as they cruised down to the Lower Docks. Obviously, it stuck out like a sore thumb, but it at least allowed the company assembled to discuss their proceedings without having to worry about prying eyes.

“We’ll be arriving shortly, ma’am,” Jeremine called back from the driver’s seat.

“Still crazy to me that ya’ let her behind the wheel.”

“Oh hush. She’s dependable where it counts. Anyway, I would like to do one last quick briefing, due to the short notice of this assignment. Mr. Columbine, if you will?”

“Absolutely. We’re to arrive at the facility by boat, but the ground floor isn’t what we’re after. We’ll need to find a way to power the elevator to get to our actual goal. The bounty posted states they’re after a particular drive laden with encrypted files, whether we procure the drive itself or simply copy the data is irrelevant to them. The facility itself is supposedly abandoned, but I wouldn’t trust anything left behind by the old empire.”

“You expecting Chimeras?”

“Not specifically, though it’s possible. We can’t be certain how many labs were researching their development, but at the very least we should expect some kind of security measure.”

“Alright, a li’l smash’n’grab, I can dig it. Sounds a little too simple though.”

“Of course it does, but that’s part of the fun, now isn’t it?”

“At any rate, while the bounty is the primary objective and should be prioritized, I also ask that you be on the lookout for any kind of unusual research materials that may be valuable to the company. Specifically blueprints, schematics, testing data, or potential prototypes that we could make use of. Lily, I’ve provided in your gear a drive of your own so that you may procure any important data you come across. Furthermore, I also ask that you make a copy of the encrypted data the client is after for me as well. Any of these additional materials will result in a bonus to your pay for the assignment, on top of standard fees, as well as the client’s payment, which should be split between the three of you.”

“Surprised ya’ ain’t askin’ for a cut. Any reason?”

“I’m far more interested in the data than the reward, darling. Besides, I will not be accompanying you for this assignment, so it would be unethical to accept a reward.”

“Fair enough. I take it you’re gonna send the drone too?”

“Indeed. In addition to your body cams, you’ll also have access to our surveillance drone. It won’t provide any assistance in combat, but it will document your traversal of the facility and act as an emergency relay back to Pasque Arms. I will be handling your correspondence personally, along with a hand-picked team of tech experts from our research department. Anything you may have questions about, simply connect to the drone and upload your findings to us so we may analyze it.”

“I sure don’t mind leaving the tech mumbo-jumbo to your brainiacs. I’m just here for the muscle.”

It was then that the car came to a gentle stop. Jeremine turned back to face the crew again.

“We’ve arrived,” she said pleasantly.

The three intrepid adventurers got their gear together and disembarked, starting to make their way down to the boat they were meant to board. Before they got too far, Violet called out one last time from the vehicle.

“Make me proud you three~,” she cooed as the car began to slowly roll away.

[vxnuslogy]

𐙚 my love, mine all mine.

— some headcanons about certain things the hsr men would do while in a relationship.

— warnings: none

— author's notes: self-indulgent, once again credits to @.cafekitsune for the banners. this is lowkey dedicated to the stellaronhvnters <3

𐙚  AVENTURINE 

would always accompany you on your spontaneous night drives around pier point. before you can even leave your room to drag aventurine to his car, he’s already leaning on your doorframe, his car keys in hand as he flashes you a smile; not the gambler like smile he shows to his enemies but a child-like one filled with uncontained excitement and wonder. 

its half past midnight and your both in your pajamas (he insisted that you both wear matching ones) as he rolls down the roof of his very expensive car to let the wind flow with your hair. your phone connected to the speakers as you blasted your shared playlist. loud enough to satisfy your needs to have a mini carpool karaoke session but quiet enough you won’t disturb any civilians trying to sleep the night away.

aventurine shakes his head in fondness and amusement when you scold him as he skipped a song he didn’t particularly like. the pout on your lips would soon fade as he reached to pull you by the chin and give you a peck on the lips. your nagging turned into panic as you hit him in the arms for not keeping his eyes on the road.

𐙚 VERITAS RATIO

always comes home exhausted. even in his tired and slightly dazed state, he always comes home at exactly 7 pm and each time his arms wouldn’t fail to snake around your waist and his lips press a soft kiss on your neck in greeting.

when you ask about his day, the doctor just grumbles and complains about his students. but you knew deep down he was proud of them after they finally managed to solve this one particular problem he gave them without his help. they’ve been making fast progress, he once stated, making a smile bloom on your face when he checks their papers.

you chuckle under your breath as ratio continues to chatter away about his students' progress. your back flushed into his sturdy chest while arms kept a steady hold of you – tight enough that you could feel his muscles but still be able to move around the kitchen. a melody starts to fall from your lips as you hummed and swayed, and ratio follows with his own humming as you both start a pseudo dance in the middle of making dinner.

𐙚 BOOTHILL

date nights with boothill usually consisted of going bar hopping and hiding away in a dark alley as the IPC passed by. you’ve grown fond of the excitement as your lover drags you out the bar with officers high on your tails. it never fails to rip out an uncharacteristic laugh from you and cherry grin from him.

tonight was a lot tamer than other nights. sitting in a bar counter, a cup of whiskey boothill had asked you to hold while he gets another bounty for the both of you. he knows you wouldn’t take a single sip of his drink, your alcohol tolerance was nonexistent he says making you roll your eyes. your peaceful night was disturbed when a new face popped out from seemingly nowhere, taking the seat your lover once occupied as the man tried to buy you a drink

boothill always had impeccable timing. just as the man was about to take a hold of your – his – glass, a cold arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back into a firm chest. you try to look up but a familiar hat was instead placed over your eyes as the glass in your hand was taken. the liquid disappeared in a flash as boothill downs it in one go. just to prove his point, he gingerly lifts his hat over your face and press a kiss at the corner of your lips, making it known to the man that you were with him.

𐙚 SUNDAY

not many would believe you if you told them the stories of how easily flustered the head of the oak family. everyone would picture him as a full package gentleman – opening doors for you, pulling back your seat, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, etc. – but what they don’t know is that, in your relationship, the one being worshiped wasn’t you.

without a doubt, you were the one who always opened the door to his office for him, offering to carry his things even if he protested, even going to one knee to tie the laces of his shoes. sunday was always in competition when it came to being a gentleman and he always loses to you every time. and he doesn’t make any effort to make you stop despite his embarrassment; one drag of your knuckles under his eyes when he’s overworked and tired and he’s putty in your hands.

how could he resist your pampering when you always take off his gloves when it's just you two in his office, pressing a delicate kiss to his knuckles and whispering sweet nothings to him. admiring the writing calluses on his right hand as you talk about your day. 

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

[shotmrmiller]

im thinking of you, who's a doctor that's been taken hostage by some bandits under the pretense of needing you for a house call for their elderly family member. they had paid for your services preemptively as well.

it's my ma, see. she's got a real bad cough and says her chest hurts somethin' fierce.

you clumsily hop on their horse and let them take you to where she supposedly is, except instead of a quaint, little home they take you to some delapilated wooden shack. before you even get to ask any sort of question, there's the barrel of a gun pressed firmly against your spine.

you heal the man inside, and if he dies, so do you.

this is the only time that you fully regret going to school for medicine, instead of marrying that sheltered rich man like how your father had originally wanted for you.

after searching your coat pockets for the money they had given you earlier, they harshly nudge you toward the roughly hewn wooden door that's barely hanging onto the frame by the hinges.

only to come face to face with a broken, bloody man. and what's worse is that you've seen him before on wanted posters. he's an infamous gunslinger, one so dangerous not even the police want him captured alive, simply dealt with. he's got a hefty $1000 bounty on his masked head. his name is said like a curse among lawmen and the general population alike and he's been evading the hand of justice for years, in and out of sight like a phantom. ghost.

he sat tied to a chair, coarse rope so tight around his body you could see it biting into his bruised skin. blood ran in rivulets down his painfully obvious broken nose, his thin split lip swollen and raw. bruises bloomed on his dirt-streaked cheeks, blonde stubble stained crimson. his breath left him in ragged, wet gasps. your purpose here is clear.

their torture has done nothing to break the man in front of you, so they want you to keep him alive until he does.

his sunken, dark eyes follow your every move— as you shrug off your coat, roll up your sleeves, and reach into your medical briefcase for gloves.

your hands tremble with fear and urgency as they reach for the blood-soaked tattered remains of his shirt and pull it up to assess the damage.

"how unfortunate for you and for me that it doesn't seem like you were hit near anything vital." he remains silent and unresistant as you get to work; breath hitching and jaw clenching only when you dabbed a wet, clean rag on his open wounds. you can feel his gaze on your sweat-slick skin, unwavering.

god only knows how long you're to be kept here, captive, just like him.

(his gang comes to save him eventually, and because you were so useful simon tells price that you're a doctor, and a damn good one. "her talents could come to use in the future." price looks at you sparingly, hardened blue eyes resembling ice. he gives him the go-ahead, and now you're taken captive. again. and what's worse, simon simply hog-ties you and stows you in the back of his horse, like a hunter does the pelts of his game.)

[sleepy-fiction]

Little Treasure.

eleven weeks pt.2 | sebastian solace x reader SMUT

2K WORDS

tgs: monster fucking, overstimulation, gn sex terms for reader, two pp seb, bottom reader

an: I forgot about this whooopsiessss 🥲. A looooong time ago, ppl were asking for the smut, and I wrote it! But if you were looking for a lore expansion, this is only smut. UPDATED: ITS NOW BETA/PROOF READ!! YAAY

read part one

"Sebastian," you whined, humiliation blooming in your heart. You didn't know how you got here, you were just talking to him on the couch and now he has you pinned before him like an art piece. This was your first time seeing Sebastian in years since the day your contract with Urbanshade ended, since the day he was rumored to be dead, only for him to return with the military all strange and anew.

"Shh shh," the angler hushed. No longer was he that shorter, bronze tinted human you loved so much, no, he was large. His skin was a grayish blue, with three big eyes and a long slithering whale tail, two fins for ears, and three giant claws. And now, this creature, that you now know and love as sebastian, had declothed you.

Your fancy button-up that you wore to see him was hanging open, restrictive on your arms and shoulders, with your pants nowhere to be seen. And there was him, that large pointy tooth predator, hovering over you, with his tail wrapped in a circle around your body, trapping you to see nothing but him.

Your senses were heightened, every cold touch from him was driving you mad. There was so much of him that you could hear, see, feel, taste, smell it was overwhelming. You could taste his saliva on your tongue for every pant you made, the taste foreignly fish like, and could smell so much of his slithering body. It oddly smelled like shea butter, as if he took good care to keep his tail protected and moisturized. And with so much of him, so much of his body, the smell was puguently intoxicating, a natural aphrodisiac that had you thinking of him and only of him for every inhale you took. It left you shuddering.

No, no, and not to mention how large his soft bed was. It was like quick sand for your little body. For your aching bones, you were being sucked in and glued into place by bountiful white sheets.

Your sense of touch.

You could feel his touch as he dragged his sharp claw down your bare sternum, and to your stomach, you were whining under his touch. This was way too much for you.

You heard him giggle, so you open your eyes to see him. His giant left claw reaches to cup your face, holding all of your weight tenderly in his palm. His hair is tucked behind his ears, his razor shark teeth beaming delightfully at you, while he wore nothing but an unbuttoned shirt that too hung uselessly on his shoulders. You could see his chest from here, battered with scars but amazing blue, with his belly that mellowed out to a grey color. You could see the space where his humanoid belly met with the start of his tail, hugging at his hips like a true siren.

"F-Fuck... I'm fucking my best friend," you grunted. You couldn't take it as you shut your eyes again, bucking your hips out into the air, and succumbing into his hands. Your face was so hot in his hands, your lewd body posed so erotically, the way you were so sensitive to everything. God, even his words.

He clenched his teeth, as his exploration of you no longer was for gentle admiration, but for parched desire. "You say whatever you want," he growled as he rolled your nipple between his index and thumb, "you don't care about how it makes anyone feel..." His voice is hushed and teasing.

You squeak, feeling his cold fingers send waves of pleasure down your body, your nipples hardening up instantly.

He repeats your words, "'I can't believe I'm fucking my best friend' and not, 'I can't believe I'm fucking a monster'," he chuckles, "I guess I'll take it."

The circle that his tail has trapped you in restricts smaller. It restricts tight enough for him to lay your head propped on it instead of holding it up for you. He leans down to your body, rolling out that massive tongue, your breath hitches beautifully.

He can't take it.

He lied.

You're too bewitching.

You speak up, "I just, I think about that time back when we were just kids--" his large tongue rolls a stripe down your body, "--nnh fuck... and we were in band practice and you were showing me your teeth without those braces," You pause.

He halts his teasing, his eyes furrowing in intrigue, already knowing where this story is going. You continue, "You waited all day until 6th period, when we had our first class together, to show me your teeth before anyone else... And I think-- 'wow that's the boy that's going down on me right now', a-and it's embarrassing!"

A bright, hearty laugh escapes him, the sound crackled and mangled as if he had never laughed before. Your humilation worsened beneath him. You were enamored watching him, brain sucking in how prettily he laughs, how pretty he smiles. Those sharp, pointy teeth flash at you, and though they're dangerous. Despite that, he was too handsomely-silly for you to feel any fear; only worse embarrassment.

"You- huh," he snorts out, unable to find the words.

"It's not funny, Sebastian," you whine, covering your face.

"You're thinking about all that right now?" He asks with a giggle.

"Of course I am... Who wouldn't," you pout.

Sebastian leans in to steal your lips, pressing a sweet kiss against them. You gratefully kiss back, running your hands through his silky raven locks. They were cut into a short bob. Funnily enough, it was the same way he always had it while growing up. He never wanted to try anything different after graduation. It was sweet to feel him again like this.

Your racing heart slowed as you felt him, as his tongue nicely licked you for entrance, and as you generously opened your mouth for him. His tongue was thick and pointy, the sensation unlike anything else, but it radiated his essence. Your arms seemed to fit lovingly on his shoulders while his other two hands caressed your belly romantically. There were so many possibilities, so many ways your relationship could change - is changing. Fuck's sake, everything about him was alien now. But still, as you feel him caress you, you know deep down inside you're so ready to face it all for him. And you're not going to face it alone either.

You shoulders drooped in the kiss, your pinched eyebrows melting in sudden bliss.

God, when did you fall for him? Were you always in love like this?

He pulled away with a hearty smack, his hands running back to hold you sweet hips as he buried his face dear to your chest. He hums, "Now, where were we?" His breath tingles against your skin. "Ah, here we are," his dark eyes flicker to your lovely chest, "they look so lonely," he cackles.

Sebastian licks your tender nipple, his tongue warm from being in your hot mouth. You moan at the feeling as he rudely licks and slurps up your nipple. His left claw rolls your other nipple between his index and thumb. The feeling is sharp and tight, opposite to the sweetness of his soft tongue.

"Ooh, Sebastian," you mewl, staring down at him as he worked. You hear the end of his whale tail rattle possessively at the sound of his name. He pulls off them with a greedy moan and slides his large tongue down your belly in a stripe. He ends it tantalizingly close to where your underwear meets your hips.

He then buries his nose deep against your sex, a strong sniff making your bones rattle, and your legs clam his head on either side. It's then that you are viciously reminded that Sebastian is still a predator. Your jaw hangs open, neck arching backward against his tail as his tongue rolls out and licks you soaking through your underwear.

The moaning cry that leaves you is jittery and squeakish, a mewl filled with paralyzing erotic terror, "Ah--aa!" You buck your hips against his wet muscle, grinding down harshly against him. He grabs the hem of your underwear and tears it to nothing, his claws immediately reaching to your hole, while his tongue devours your main sex.

You whimper, and sebastian flickers his ears dangerously. He growls and pulls away, eyes lidded as he yanks his button up off his body. He hisses into the air, "I can't take this." He rises high above you, your jaw falls slack. His body is glisteningly beautiful, his reflective scales reach his belly and create a greenish hue, and scars litter his skin.

Oddly, he didn't have a penis, just his skin and scales and a small hole no bigger than your pinkie. He dips a clawed finger into it, a blissful moan rises from him, and he pulls it straight out. Within an instant, two fleshy, slimey pink rods burst out of his body. One of them has a head of a cock, while the other is smaller, thinner, but flexible as it curls enticingly around the other. Your mouth waters at the sight.

You bark out, "I can't take that Sebastian!" You whine, feeling your sex pour out it's arousal. You sit up zealously, but he dives in to meet you.

His three hands pull you into an embrace, as his two dicks press into your belly. The stiffer, human looking one bumps your belly button, just as he promised, while the flexible, alien cock sways circles into your skin. Primally, your hips buck forward, eyes disappearing to the crevices of your mind. Sebastian's breath is deep and full in your ears. A fire of feverous shakes overcome you, your brain lost in the foreign stimuli.

Before you could even think it any worse, he burries his lips against your ear and cries out a pitiful mantra, "Try f'me... please, guppy..."

In all of your life you've never heard Sebastian beg not once. He didn't beg for forgiveness when he crashed your sweet sixteen, neither did he when he got you in trouble in Urbanshade. But yet here he is. Begging so pitifully.

He licks your ear, whimpers bubbling out of his throat as he begins to buck against your sex, grinding his cocks against you mindlessly. You moan out, feeling his alien dick massage your sex intensely, sticking it up from its wetness.

His sharp teeth scrape gently across your earlobe, the burning feeling vibrating into your ears along with his pitiful cries. Your jaw falls slack in bliss as your feet eagerly wrap around his waist. "Ooh, F-Fuck Seb' mmore," You moan.

His face is fucked out as he rises the two of you up, you're pulled up from the bed, secured to him by the two hands that hold your ass and hip. The final, tiny third hand is meekly holding you just above your elbow.

You can feel him part you as his head presses against your hole. It's achingly slick, and he breaches with no further hesitation. He's large, filling you with just the tip of one of his cocks alone. The second rushes in, curling in your walls sporadically.

"Oohh-- nnh- aah," You mewl.

"Z'orry," he hisses. With no warning, Sebastian fucks your hips down onto his cocks, bottoming out with a wistful moan. Your hands shoot to grab onto him, laying your face sloppily into his chest and familiarizing your nails with his back.

His dicks are hot, much hotter than the rest of his cold body. You can feel him expand your belly, his alien cock swirling and spasming like a furious vibrator. Your ankles lock your feet en pointe, your toes curling to finish the ballet look. And for his very first official thrust, you're already spilling out cum.

His claws dip into your skin, beading out tiny beads of blood into the bed. The smell of your blood is a fragrant garish to the smell of your weeping sex. A sweet appetizer to the drizzling aroma of your sweat. All of this is happening in his den, with the taste of ur lips still distant on his tongue, and the sound of your mewls in his ears. All of it makes his ears twitch in masterful delight.

He pumps into you mindlessly, your walls pummeled and stretched intensely, gummy as they milk his dicks of their juices. A lewd, hearty smack puckers out the space where your bodies meet, the sound squelching wet. Your combined slick dribbles down Sebastian's scales as he hurriedly burries himself into your shoulder.

He fucks your hips down onto him as he thrusts, meeting you both in the middle, the squeaking pleasure forcing your nails to scrape at the tough skin on his back. You're unfortunate to note you can't prick him to bleed the same way he'd made your hips to suffer, but your mind is burning with sparks too intense you fail to care.

Painfully, he pulls out of you mid thrust, the feeling of emptiness like a sear to your weeping sex and heart. You whine, "Sebastian--" Bit you can't even finish your shout as he cooes at you and shoves his tongue in your mouth.

He lowers back onto the bed, wrapping his tail around your body and propping you above him. Your head lays against his dorsal fin, your legs on either side of his hips and your feet touches the bed.

"T'gimme a sec'," he mumbles out, his eyes lidded, mouth agape and fucked out.

You watch precariously as his thin, alien cock coils around his more human one. It swirled around it like a precise torpedo, making it a thicker plunge for you to take. Before you can even register it, his tail shoves you down onto him, his absurd cocks forcing you into another orgasm.

Your mewl is airy and scratchy, drowning out the mantra of pitiful wanton "sorry"s from Sebastian's slobbering mouth. He bounces you onto him, your knees curled up on each side in a straddle. His cock adulterates your walls, the ridges from his swirling cock abuse your sweet spot, rubbing against it multiple times each thrust, and forcing you into your third orgasm.

You squeeze him tighter, and his back rises from the bed, his head shooting back into the pillows. His tail restricts tightly around your body, your airflow dimming beautifully as your hands claw at his tail. His moans spike, his tail growing weak with thrusts. Another orgasm was rising in you, but you wouldn't let it go to waist.

You take the liberty to bounce on him for him, your plunges quick and fast, energetic sloppy sounds spilling out your body. He cries out, baring his teeth, but you continue riding him, clawing at his tail with shaggy breaths. The restrictions felt so good, his tail squeezed your whole body so well, you were gonna cum you were gonna cum--

"Sebastian!"

Your sex bursts it's cum perfectly in-sync with the flooding of semen invading your walls. His cum is blood hot, intense as his shots stretch you worse and spill out the gaps of his cocks. Your jaw locks, your moans drawn and loud from you. You squeeze him tightly, dropping all your weight against his tail, as you meekly use your last drop of energy to pull off his spasming cocks. It slips out of you, flowing by a waterfall of orange cum spilling out you. You can barely take notice of his semen's alien color when your head gets light.

"M'guppy, c'mere," is all you hear from him as you're lowered down onto his chest, and developed into his three arms.

You fall asleep just as instant as your cheek touches his collarbone.

Fuck.

That was life changing.

🛋🐍🐋🦈

*Your groggy eyes flutter open, doused in the moving, warm thing you lay upon. It felt rubbery against your cheek, yet had a soft pulse ebbing from it.

You didn't recall falling asleep, but when you awoke, you found yourself laying on Sebastian's chest. It was rubbery against your cheek, yet warm and pusling eerily loud. With a grunt, you shifted but was met with an intense soreness dipping from your arms and lower half.

"Awake?," you heard him ask

*I feel so bad. This little part above was supposed to be continued, but I gave up. BUT I also forgot to cut it out of the fic??? So it ends so weird omg.

Now, here i am finally editing this fic like 6/7 months later just now realizing this was left in there 😭😭

I wont take it out for memories sake, but sheez sorry guys 😭😭💖💖

[botanyshitposts]

flowers blooming in such heft and numbers they bend the plant over and plants bearing fruit so hard they shower everything under it in fruits or make the very branches bend…. creatures are just experiencing vast bounty and good fortune out there fr fr

[ak-vintage]

I'll Pick You Up

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: On your first Valentine’s Day together, Javier shows you how much you mean to him.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Post-canon Laredo Javi, established relationship, Valentine’s Day on the Peña ranch, romantic gestures, all the fluff and sweetness, a little “M-rated” smut (references to other sexual encounters, oral sex (f receiving), P in V sex, creampie).

Word Count: 1.2K

Written as a Valentine’s Day gift for my dear friend Kat @sunshinehaze1! Credit to @saradika-graphics for the dividers.

Read on AO3 | Main Masterlist

Javier Peña has never been the type of man to express his love through grand gestures of romance. Instead, he attends to the everyday.

His hand against the small of your back, ushering you gently, protectively in and out of shops and restaurants and bars. Gas in your car every time he spots it running low. A doorstep delivery of pozole and decongestant when you’re sick. Your favorite brand of body wash in his shower. French vanilla coffee creamer in his fridge, even though you know neither he nor Chucho would ever dream of drinking their coffee any way other than black.

He takes care of you, in his own steady, thoughtful way. But when the subject of Valentine’s Day comes up – the first you’ve ever spent together – you have no expectation that he will have some grand plan to sweep you off your feet. You assume you’ll go out for dinner, maybe some place a little nicer than your usual haunts. A possible bouquet of flowers, a very probable night of spine-melting sex. Nothing fancy. That’s not who Javi is.

But he surprises you. When you broach the topic, he tells you, “I’ve got some ideas. Actually, I think I’d like to surprise you.”

You agree with a puzzled smile, your only request that he at least tell you the time and what you should plan to wear.

On the morning of February 14, you find a note taped to your coffee pot as you’re getting ready to leave for work.

Tonight – 5 PM I’ll pick you up. Dress comfortable. Happy Valentine’s Day, cariño!

He’s in your driveway at 5:00 on the dot, his broad shoulders testing the stitching of a long-sleeved flannel shirt he’s tucked into his signature blue jeans, and you doubt that he has ever looked more handsome. He opens the door to his old pickup for you, offers you a hand to help you up onto the bench like you haven’t ridden in it a thousand times by now. The gesture has heat blooming in your cheeks regardless.

Something by the Eagles hums low on the radio in the background as he drives, knees spread wide, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on your thigh. It’s so comfortable and pleasant, just to sit in the silence with him, that it takes you an embarrassingly long time to realize he is heading in the opposite direction of town.

He’s taking you back to the Peña ranch.

When you ask him why he’s just taking you back to his house, he simply replies, “I’m not taking you to the house, baby.”

You end up turning off the main road at some point, taking a dirt and gravel path deeper into his family’s land, far out of line of sight of the old farmhouse. Eventually, even the path disappears, and you’re left bumping through an open field until he finally comes to a stop in the shade of an old tree, standing lonely sentinel in the middle of the rolling acres.

Beneath the tree, a large blanket covers the scrubby grass, and you spot a basket and a bottle of wine (your favorite kind) resting against its roots.

Javi isn’t much of a cook, but as you unpack the basket and spread out your bounty, you discover that that hasn’t stopped him from going all out. Huge, fresh-looking sandwiches wrapped in butcher paper, a selection of prepared fruits and vegetables, and more single-serve bags of chips than you could ever eat make up the bulk of the spread, though there is a wide, shallow container at the bottom of the basket that he tells you is a surprise for dessert.

When he pops the cork on the bottle of wine, he proposes a toast – “To our first Valentine’s Day. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, cariño, but I promise to keep doing it.”

You hush his smiling self-deprecation with a swift kiss and assure him, “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

When you’ve had your fill of dinner, and perhaps one too many glasses of wine, he finally allows you to open the dessert container. Inside are a half dozen oversized strawberries, gleaming bright red and boasting fluffy green stems. All of them have been dunked rather haphazardly in dark chocolate, a few sporting wide, smudgy thumbprints in the matte brown surface, and you can tell immediately that he made these himself.

“Chocolate-covered strawberries? So fancy!” you cry, delighted, eyeing Javier with a playful grin. “Who are you, and what have you done with my boyfriend?”

The corner of his mouth quirks up in a smirk, his dark eyes crinkling as he sweeps his gaze from your face to the swell of your breasts to the curve of your hips and back again.

“Just thought you might like a little something sweet,” he purrs, his tongue darting out to wet his plush lower lip. And there he is – that’s the Javier Peña you know and love.

He gathers you into his lap, slots your knees on either side of his narrow hips and plants you firmly on his denim-covered thighs. He feeds you the strawberries from his fingers, chases them with kisses. When the chocolate melts and smears across your face, he licks it away slowly, teasingly. When you slip your tongue past his lips, his mouth tastes like wine and sweet fruit.

Eventually the picnic is forgotten. Javier lays you back onto the blanket, spreads you out like his own personal feast, and takes you apart as the sun begins to sink lower in the February sky.

“Mírame, nena,” he growls from between your thighs, dress hitched up around your waist, panties yanked to the side as he buries his face in your wetness. “Look at me while you come.”

You demand the same of him when you have him on his back, his jeans hanging open and pulled down just far enough for you to sink down onto his cock. You can feel his belt buckle and the teeth of his zipper biting into the flesh of your inner thigh as you ride him, but you pay it no mind. In fact, you relish the sting. Beneath you, Javier’s deep brown eyes struggle to remain locked on yours, the muscles in his sharp jaw fluttering as he clenches down and groans into the rapidly-cooling air. Half an instant before you find your own pleasure, you feel the warmth of his release deep inside you, and you follow him over the edge with his name on your lips.

It is well and truly dark by the time you’ve gathered up the picnic supplies, tossed them into the bed of his truck, and made your way to the Peña farmhouse. Javier offers to drop you back off at yours, but these days you spend more nights curled up in his bed than you do your own, so you decline.

You run into Chucho in the living room just as he is heading to bed, the older man a rancher to his core and never awake past 8:30. You chat for a brief moment, and both you and Javier wish him goodnight, but not before he pauses in the doorway, looks you both over from head to toe, and with a knowing smirk, informs his son that he has grass in hair. Javi’s ears burn a vivid crimson as he swipes at the back of his head, and his father’s low, warm laughter follows the both of you up the stairs as your boyfriend quickly pulls you to the privacy of his second-floor bedroom.

Unable to help yourselves, the two of you come together once more under the light of his old bedside lamp, the door firmly locked, bedframe pulled away from the wall, and Javi’s hand over your mouth to stifle your moans. Chucho sleeps like the dead, thank god, but even one comment implying his full awareness of your sex life with his son is enough for you for one day. You can’t be too cautious.

After, Javier is his steady, thoughtful self. A glass of water on the nightstand, a warm, wet washcloth for the mess between your thighs, an extra blanket for the bed because he knows how chilly you get in the night. When he slips under the covers with you, you settle into his arms like that little hollow between his chest and collar bone was made for you. You tuck your head there, threading your arm around his waist, and drop a kiss to his soft, bed-warm skin.

“Hell of a first Valentine’s Day, Javier,” you whisper, face half-buried in him, sleepy smile pressed into his chest. “Don’t know how you’re gonna top it.”

Beneath you, his shoulders shift slightly in what you interpret as a shrug, and his arms tighten their grip around your body. “Me, neither. But I’ve got a lifetime to try.”

[cvetankablog]

(via "beautiful wild flowers" Active T-Shirt for Sale by T-shirtsGallery)

[beabatiny]

𓇼 𝘈𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘻 𝘍𝘪𝘤 𝘙𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘌𝘱.𝘚𝘪𝘹 𓇼 𓆞 𝘔𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴 𓆞 𓇼 𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘴/𝘈𝘨𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴/𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𓇼

𓇼 𝘰𝘵8/𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Dramatic Ass - @srslyscary ot8 x reader (texts) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Friends!? - @starillusion13 poly!yandere!ot8 x reader (series) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 From Storm To Sunrise - @ad0rechuu yungi x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Game Over - @mingi-s-dimples topaz x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Gone - @srslyscary mafia!ateez x mafia!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘬𝘪𝘮 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘫𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Forgotten Melodies - @vampwritesstuff non-idol!hongjoong x reader (smau series) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Glares & Snuggles - @skrrts non-idol!hongjoong x gn!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Guns & Kisses - @hee0soo mafia boss!hongjoong x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Guns and Tiaras - @crimsonbubble mafia!hongjoong x reader (thoughts) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Hades - @lilacmingi hades!hongjoong x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘴𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘸𝘢 𓇼  𓈒𓏸 Inner children - @xuchiya non-idol!seonghwa x reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Lego Friday - @solaris-amethyst non-idol!seonghwa x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Little Brat - @mingtinysworld bf!seonghwa x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Maleficent - @lilacmingi maleficent!seonghwa x princess!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Me And My Husband - @the-midnight-blooms ceo!dad!seonghwa x scientist!mom!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸

𓇼 𝘫𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘰 𓇼 𓆞 Luck - @minkieater non-idol!yandere!yunho x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Morning Buddy - @everyonewooeverywhere bf!yunho x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 My Home - @yunniverse bf!yunho x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Office Secrets - @xomakara manager!yunho x employee!reader 𓆞 𓆞 Perhaps In Another Life - @outlawinthisworld1117 priest!yunho x fleabag!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘬𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘦𝘰𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Thunder Buddies - @yeonmuse non-idol!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Until I Found You [Part One] [Part Two] - @edenesth prince!yeosang x princess!reader (two-parts) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Winner Takes It All - @ja3hwa best friend!yeosang x best friend!reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Would You Choose Him Over Me? - @solaris-amethyst non-idol!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 White Silk - @skrrts non-idol!yeosang x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓇼 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘴𝘢𝘯 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Home is where you are - @evandsolo idol!san x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 In For A Ride - @ssweetreveries non-idol!san x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Kiss, Kiss, Fall In Love - @itstheghostofmypast bf!san x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 Kitten Fever - @kitten4sannie hybrid!husband!san x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Late Night - @sweetiesicheng idol!san x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸

𓇼 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪 𓇼 𓆞 Missing Out - @songmingisthighs dilf!mingi x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓆞 Mr. Mingi - @sugarnspice630 wonka!mingi x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Nail Polish - @atzaurora bf!mingi x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Older, Wiser, And Hotter Than Ever - @skrrts non-idol!mingi x gn!reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Pretty - @no1likejoongie husband!mingi x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘫𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𓇼 𓈒𓏸 Fried Egg - @jjoongstar chef!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Giggle Fits - @pettypuppy-jonghyun bf!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 How To Tame A Brat Tamer - @k-hotchoisan non-idol!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 I Can Hear The Sea - @daemour non-idol!wooyoung x gn!reader (drabble) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 I Don't Want Your Sorrys, I Want You Safe - @dvrktvnnel mafia!wooyoung x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓇼 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘫𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘰 𓇼𓈒 𓏸 Strangers To Friends To Lovers - @adelusionforyourthoughts soloist!jongho x soloist!reader (texts) 𓈒𓏸  𓈒𓏸 Talking To The Moon - @livsateez bounty hunter!jongho x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸 𓆞 The Pool - @beenbaanbuun non-idol!jongho x reader (one-shot) 𓆞 𓈒𓏸 Try Again [Part One] [Part Two] - @edenesth assistant!jongho x new maid!reader (two-parts) 𓈒𓏸 𓈒𓏸 Unspoken Pain - @koyagifs non-idol!jongho x reader (one-shot) 𓈒𓏸

[saddleups]

𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐑 𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐒.

★ STATUS . . . ongoing, arthur morgan x f!reader. 18+ smut mdni !!

★ CW . . . voyeurism, female masturbation, male masturbation, arthur's kind of a meanie.

★ SUMMARY . . . recently welcomed into dutch van der linde's gang, has a tense first encounter with arthur morgan, who is suspicious of her and questions her trustworthiness. after a sharp exchange, she withdraws to her tent to find solace. meanwhile, arthur, tasked with returning her forgotten journal, approaches her tent but hesitates when he sees the intimate silhouette of her body through the illuminated canvas.

★ AUTHOR'S NOTE . . . really don't know what washed over me. this was initially meant as a drabble , but somehow bloomed into what is going to be a continuing story. as the start of the story, it's loaded with "setting the scene" mostly to establish a dynamic between the reader and arthur. however , it does get spicy towards the end ;)

An orphan, a wanderer, and most notably, a thief for hire. Your occupation brought you countless adversaries, shaped by a lifetime of hardship. The Wild West wasn’t forgiving, especially for someone like you. It forced you to compromise whatever moral compass you’d developed, exchanging it for a life filled with unsavory characters. Your skills became notorious in Lemoyne, earning you a wanted poster of your own—though the paltry $3,000 bounty made you wonder if the authorities truly knew your worth.

One man, however, saw your potential: Dutch Van der Linde. Knowing Dutch’s reputation, you were well aware there was no honor among thieves, but the price he offered for your services was one you couldn't afford to refuse.

"I'm a man who keeps his word," Dutch said, locking eyes with you. You stiffened momentarily, your guard raised.

"And if you don’t, I’ll have you dead," you warned, your voice steady.

Dutch chuckled, raising his palms in mock surrender. "I'll take you to my camp, introduce you to my people," he said, patting his chest for emphasis. "I take care of my own. I'll take care of you too, ma’am, ya hear?"

You clenched your jaw, swallowing hard before releasing a sigh. Camps, people—these weren't things you were accustomed to. Yet, the promise of a warm fire and a decent meal was hard to ignore. Stepping forward, you motioned with your boot. "Be a gentleman and lead the way."

Dutch quickened his pace, guiding you to his horse. Retrieving your own, you both rode off toward the confines of Clemens Point.

As you arrived at the secluded camp, the thick forest enveloped the intimate commune. Pulling on the reins, your horse came to a halt behind Dutch’s. He dismounted and extended a hand to help you down. You ignored his gesture, earning another chuckle.

"Your independence is admirable," Dutch said, amused. "Maybe you'll set a good example."

"I won’t be staying long," you replied curtly.

Dutch nodded, unfazed. "Come on, now, lemme introduce ya."

You followed behind him, scanning your surroundings, planning your escape if needed. Clemens Point had its rustic charm, much like the rest of Lemoyne, but it wasn’t a place you intended to linger. As you approached the heart of the camp, the residents began to take notice. Some watched from a distance, while others stepped closer. You stayed close to Dutch, observing the crowd.

"Bring a lady for the night?" one man jeered. You tried to get a glimpse of the man behind such a crude remark, catching only the sight of a weathered hat adorned with a feather.

"It ain’t like that," Dutch countered.

"Well, if she’s with you, she sure ain’t cheap," the man sneered.

You felt anger flare in your chest.

"Arthur!" Dutch barked.

So, that was his name—Arthur.

Stepping out from behind Dutch, you made yourself visible to the Van der Linde gang, especially the man at the center of it all.

He was tall, built like a seasoned gunslinger, with the brim of his hat pulled low, hiding much of his face. But from your shorter vantage point, you could see beneath the brim—strands of sandy brown hair fell just above his eyes. You squinted, trying to get a clearer look at the man responsible for the comment.

"My, my," Arthur drawled, his voice low. "What do we have here, then?"

You stared Arthur down, unfazed by his comment. “What you have here,” you said, voice dripping with sarcasm, “is someone who doesn't take kindly to men who don’t watch their tongues.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Bold. I like that.” He crossed his arms, eyeing you with a mix of amusement and curiosity. “But talk’s cheap out here, darlin’. You gonna back it up?”

You took a step closer, not backing down. “Guess you’ll find out soon enough, cowboy.”

Before things could escalate further, Dutch stepped in between the two of you, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. “Now, now, let’s all calm down, shall we?” He chuckled as though this kind of exchange was nothing new. “Arthur, meet our new friend here. She’s more than capable, I assure you. She’s got quite the reputation—thief for hire, and from what I’ve heard, she’s damn good at it.”

Arthur’s gaze flickered to Dutch, then back to you. His smile faded, replaced by a skeptical scowl. “A thief, huh?” He tilted his head, clearly unconvinced. “And you’re just gonna bring her into camp, just like that? You don’t think maybe we oughta vet her a little first? Or better yet, see if she’s worth her salt?”

Dutch sighed, clearly accustomed to Arthur’s protective nature. “Arthur, you’ve got nothing to worry about. I wouldn’t bring someone into our fold if I didn’t believe in their abilities. You, of all people, should trust me on that.”

Arthur scoffed, shaking his head. “It ain’t about trust, Dutch. It’s about common sense. You’re always bringing in strays, but how do we know she’s as good as you say? How do we know she ain’t just gonna take what she wants and bolt?”

You folded your arms, feeling the heat of Arthur’s scrutiny, but before Dutch could respond, you cut in.

“If I wanted to bolt, I wouldn’t be standing here listening to you question me like some washed-up lawman,” you said flatly. “And as for being good at what I do… Why don’t you give me a chance to prove it?”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable for a moment. The tension was thick between the two of you, the unspoken challenge hanging in the air.

Dutch clapped his hands together, cutting through the silence. “See? That’s the spirit! Let’s not get too hung up on doubts and suspicions. Besides, Arthur, you know better than anyone—we all had to start somewhere.”

Arthur shook his head, still unconvinced, but his tone softened slightly. “Fine. But if she messes up, Dutch, it’s on you.”

Dutch grinned. “I’ll take full responsibility. You’ll see, Arthur—she’s gonna fit right in.”

Arthur gave you one last look, his blue eyes hard, but he stepped back, leaving the matter for now. “We’ll see,” he muttered, turning his back to head deeper into the camp.

As he walked away, Dutch leaned in close, speaking just low enough for you to hear. “Don’t worry about Arthur. He’s always cautious with new faces, but once you prove yourself, he’ll have your back. Just give it time.”

You nodded, though your eyes remained fixed on Arthur’s retreating form. “I’ll prove myself, alright. To everyone.”

Dutch patted you on the back, his voice light once again. “That’s the spirit. Now, let’s get you settled in.”

Your shoulders relax slightly when Dutch introduces you to another, kinder member of the camp—Mary-Beth. With a warm smile, she takes it upon herself to show you around. As she guides you through the camp, she explains the delicate intricacies and rich history the Van der Linde gang has accumulated over time. Her warmth is disarming, and though you find her friendliness endearing, your guard remains firmly in place.

As the day gives way to night, the camp grows lively. The smell of roasting meat fills the air, and the sound of laughter and clinking bottles echoes around the fire. Everyone seems to be enjoying the night, drinks in hand and plates full. You sit beside Dutch, notebook in hand, writing down the events of the day—your observations, the faces you’ve encountered, and your thoughts on the gang’s dynamics.

Dutch glances over your shoulder, a grin tugging at his lips. “Writing a novel already?” he teases.

You smirk but keep writing. “Just taking notes, is all.”

With a chuckle, Dutch pats your shoulder. “Well, don’t let me interrupt your musings. I’m gonna get myself another drink.” He stands, leaving his spot beside you empty for just a moment.

Before you can settle back into your thoughts, Arthur takes Dutch’s place without so much as a word. You immediately tense, looking up from your journal in annoyance.

“I didn’t invite you to sit,” you snap.

Arthur leans back, crossing his arms, clearly unbothered by your protest. “I’m just doin’ my due diligence,” he says with a casual shrug. “Lead enforcer and all that. Gotta make sure you ain’t some rat lookin’ to get us all killed.”

You narrow your eyes at him, anger bubbling up. “A rat? You don’t know a thing about me.”

“I know enough,” Arthur retorts, his gaze hard. “You waltz in here, Dutch vouches for ya, but me? I don’t trust anyone that quick. Seen too many faces come and go. Some good, some… not so much.”

You bite your tongue, forcing yourself to stay calm. “I don’t have anything to prove to you, Arthur.”

His stare lingers on you, unflinching. “Maybe not. But until I see otherwise, I’ll keep an eye on you.”

The tension between you is palpable, and despite the fire’s warmth, you feel a chill settle in your bones. This is why you hated dealing with people. No matter what you did, someone was always suspicious, always trying to dig into things that weren’t their business. You snap your journal shut, your patience worn thin.

“I’m done here,” you mutter, standing abruptly. “I didn’t come here for this.”

You walk away from the campfire, the weight of Arthur’s gaze following you as you disappear into the shadows. As you distance yourself from the group, you hear a voice call out.

“Arthur, you really can be an asshole sometimes, you know that?”

It’s Hosea, who had been watching the exchange from a distance. His tone is firm, but there’s an edge of disappointment in it. Arthur grumbles in response, shifting uncomfortably.

“Just doin’ my job, Hosea,” Arthur mutters defensively, but there’s a flicker of something else in his eyes—regret, maybe.

Hosea shakes his head. “Yeah, well, you could stand to be a little more welcoming.”

As Hosea walks away, Arthur notices something on the ground beside him—your journal. You must have left it behind in your rush to escape the conversation. He picks it up, flipping it over in his hands, his expression softening for a brief moment. He exhales a long breath while he debates with himself, glancing in the direction you disappeared, wondering if he should bring it to you.

Storming away from the campfire, you mutter under your breath. "Should've known better than to get mixed up in this." The tension Arthur brought upon you still burns in your chest. Now, away from the glimmer of the camp you question why you even agreed to Dutch's offer.

Quickly the weight of reality sets in. The promise of money looms heavy, more than you've ever made in one place. Enough to change your life, if things go smoothly. And then there's the camp —more than just a place to lay your head. It has food, shelter, warmth, and plenty of drink, luxuries you haven’t had in a long while. The thought alone makes your stomach growl, reminding you of the times you’ve gone hungry for days on end. A little discomfort with people like Arthur might just be the price you have to pay to survive this.

With a resigned sigh, you make your way toward your tent, situated near the lake, away from the central campfire. The sounds of laughter and idle chatter slowly fade, replaced by the gentle lapping of the water and the rustling of the trees in the night breeze. The solitude brings you a moment of peace.

Inside the privacy of your tent, you begin to undress. Shedding your coat, shirt, and pants, you remain in your undergarments, your body finally relaxing after a long day. You sit down on the edge of your bedroll, running a hand through your hair, letting yourself unwind. The faint sounds of the camp are distant now, just a quiet hum in the background. For the first time all day, you feel like you can breathe.

You sink deeper into the quiet, trying to escape the frustration that still simmers after your run-in with Arthur. His suspicion and brash attitude had only amplified the uncertainty you already felt about your place here. But in this moment, alone in the privacy of your tent, you allow yourself a rare moment of vulnerability.

The day’s exhaustion has left your body aching, and as you lie back on the bedroll in nothing but your undergarments, your mind drifts, seeking comfort in the solitude. The warmth of the lamp glows around you, its light illuminating the canvas tent, casting your shadow against the fabric walls.

Meanwhile, outside Arthur approaches the tent with your journal firmly in his grasp. His steps are quiet, almost hesitant has he nears. From the outside, the soft light from your oil lamp betrays the outline of your figure through the thin material of the tent. He pauses, eyes narrowing as he makes out your shape, it stops him in his tracks.

"What in the hell is she up to?"

As the glow from the lantern outlines your curves, you move with an intensity that betrays the calm facade you usually project. Your guard is down, and in this moment of vulnerability, your form is unmistakable. Your hands roam freely over your body, pressing, squeezing, tugging at the fabric of your undergarments. Even in solitude, you tease yourself, building anticipation for the release that awaits.

Your fingers reach up to hold your breasts, pinching the hardened buds as a loud moan escapes your lips and echoes through the tent. Arthur watches silently from outside, his breath catching as he realizes what's happening. His initial intention of returning the journal completely fades away as he becomes transfixed by the intimacy of the scene unfolding before him. He feels like an intruder but can't bring himself to look away.

Lost in pleasure, you lie back and let your hand trail down to your center, seeking refuge in the coarse hair. Gripping tightly, you insert a single digit into your core and feel a rush of wetness surround it as you sink deeper and deeper. Your breathing quickens and unbeknownst to you, the quiet rhythm of your movements is not confined to the tent. You whimper for more, "ple-please, give it to me. i want more," caving release from the stress that has consumed you since arriving here.

Watching from afar, Arthur feels his primal instincts kick in but fights them off with all his might. His sense of honor wavers as he struggles against his own desires. The tightness of his jeans and gun belt only add to his physical discomfort as he closes his eyes tightly, trying to resist temptation.

Meanwhile, inside the tent, you continue to lose yourself in ecstasy, completely oblivious to anything else in the world. Your moans grow louder and more desperate as your fingers quicken their pace inside of you. The sounds of squelching flesh mixed with your cries fill the night air as you beg for more.

Arthur finally gives in to his conscience and with one last look at the tent, he pulls away and retreats into the darkness. "The hell you doing, you pervert?" he curses himself as he walks away, leaving you to your privacy and pleasure. The intense moment has passed, but the memory lingers in Arthur's mind, igniting a curiosity about what else lies behind that sharp tongue of yours.

A man still had his urges.

Your journal finds its temporary home in Arthur's pocket. The heat of the moment lingers in his chest, an ache he can’t quite shake. His body tenses, and the desire to escape the situation grows stronger with every step. He moves quickly through the camp, intent on retreating to his own quarters and pushing away the thoughts still buzzing in his mind.

But just as he rounds a corner, he spots Dutch leaning against a post, nursing a drink and chatting with one of the gang members. Dutch’s keen eyes lock onto Arthur almost immediately, and before Arthur can disappear, Dutch calls out.

“Arthur!” Dutch’s voice cuts through the campfire chatter. “Where’d our new friend wander off to?”

Arthur stiffens, his eyes darting briefly before he forces himself to face Dutch. “She, uh… she’s at her tent,” Arthur mutters, his tone gruff as he shifts his weight awkwardly. Hands firmly grasp his gun belt and a satchel that once sat on the side of his hip is awkwardly placed at the center of his core, disguising what throbbed underneath.

Dutch raises an eyebrow, clearly sensing something off. “You sure about that? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or… something else.” There’s a smirk tugging at the corner of Dutch’s mouth, amused by Arthur’s discomfort.

Arthur avoids eye contact, the urge he’s trying to suppress making it difficult to keep his composure. “Ain’t nothin’. Just tired, Dutch. Been a long day.”

Dutch takes a swig of his drink, watching Arthur closely, clearly enjoying the rare sight of Arthur flustered. “Right, right. Well, if you see her, let her know she’s always welcome to sit by the fire.”

Arthur grunts, eager to end the conversation. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

Dutch takes another sip and, with a knowing chuckle, waves him off. “Get some rest, Arthur. You look like you need it.”

Without another word, Arthur quickly shoos Dutch away with a curt nod and makes a beeline for his tent. The moment Dutch turns his attention back to the campfire, Arthur lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, his footsteps quickening.

Finally reaching the safety of his own tent, a shaky hand, Arthur pushes through the canvas flap. He collapse onto his cot with heavy breaths. Images rush through his mind like a raging river - your body outlined in flickering light, the softness of your movements, and the burning desire that he can't seem to shake.

He lies on his back, staring up at the ceiling with shallow breaths as he replays the memory over and over again. His fists clench at his sides, frustration and longing coursing through him. It's been too long since anything has affected him this deeply.

As someone no stranger to temptation, Arthur knows the pull of the flesh all too well. But this moment with you felt different - more intimate, more real. The vulnerability he saw in you makes it impossible for him to simply brush off the encounter.

Running a hand through his hair in frustration, he tries to push the thoughts away, but they cling to him like thorns. The tension in his body only grows, refusing to let go even in the quiet of the night.

"Damn it," he mutters under his breath, rolling onto his side in an attempt to distract himself. But it's no use - your silhouette, bathed in lamplight, is burned into his mind.

Sitting up abruptly, Arthur grips the ends of his cot tightly as he stares at the ground beneath him. He lets out a frustrated sigh and runs a hand over his face, trying to rub away the persistent thoughts. But they only intensify in the darkness of his tent, driving him to take action.

Without hesitation, he untucks his flannel and removes his gunbelt before freeing himself from his trousers. His arousal is already evident as his length throbs against his palm. Unlike you, who sought relaxation in these moments alone, Arthur seeks indulgence.

Spitting into his palm for lubrication, he grips his cock tightly and sinks his weight onto the cot, groaning at the sensation. His ankles are freed from his trousers as he spreads his legs wider, giving himself more room to move. With each stroke of his hand, he can feel the tension slowly dissipating, replaced by a raw need for pleasure.

His hand moves with urgency and desperation, his thumb frequently visits the tip of his cock gathering the liquid before slipping it down his length. The sounds of your pleasure entertain his memory, your gentle pleas for pleasure make him whimper, "take it, woman. t-take it all." He feels like a fool but he can't suppress the praises he's eager to provide, "like a g-good girl."

His moans were deep and gravelly, resonating with the same desperate desire that you had been yearning for. As he released his essence into his palm, the sticky substance leaked between his fingers. He caught his breath with his eyes tightly shut, murmuring a curse under his breath, "damn woman." Somehow, this was all your fault.

Arthur reached for a handkerchief to clean himself off, wiping away the evidence of his passion. He adjusted himself before settling onto his cot with a sense of contentment, ready to spend the evening in peaceful slumber. The quiet rustle of the sheets echoed through the room as he settled in, still feeling the lingering effects of your intense encounter.

NEXT CHAPTER.