#pond expansion | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

the-californicationist · 5 months ago

Text

The Old Way

Listen... I don't even know what I'm on with this. Just... don't judge me. Omfg what is wrong with me.

AO3 Link -- TW: omegaverse wildness, biting, blood, etc.

Your people are starving, and your clan's Alpha has asked you, their only remaining Omega, to give yourself up as a sacrifice to save them. So, you agree, and you are to be mated to one of the Alphas of Clan 141, praying that it is to any of them except Alpha Price. He is known to have a knot that is impossible to take, but when you finally meet him, you're not sure of what's possible anymore. Will you risk it all to be with him, even if his knot might kill you? One way to find out…

The Old Way

You couldn’t see the stars. The shroud that hung over your head was made from fine, black silk, and through its thin organza, you could barely make out the shape of the Watcher in front of you, much less the glittering galactic expanse overhead. You were wrapped like a gift, and if you wanted to save the lives of everyone you’d ever loved, you would remain cloaked in your darkness, hidden, waiting for your big moment. More than anything, you wanted to pull your veil away from your eyes just to see the familiar constellations again, to comfort yourself with their shapes, to make one last independent choice before all of your volition was stolen from you forever.

That wasn’t the right word. You couldn’t steal something that was given freely. You were not bound, and you were certainly not forced to wear the shadowed veil against your will. You had selected this path for yourself, and now you were living through the consequences of that decision.

As the only Omega in your clan – the first one born in seventy years – you were raised on the knowledge that you may one day be asked to give up your life for your clan. After the war, life was hard, and now that your people were stuck in a seemingly endless drought, it had become even more desperate. Your clan leader, Alpha Roan, had come to you six weeks ago with a terrible look in his eyes, a palpable guilt, still wearing his mourning collar for his long-lost mate, Omega Kiran, and he had asked you if you would be willing to undergo The Exchange.

His own wife had come to your clan through The Exchange, and although they had chosen to perform a private ceremony, you knew that it had been a challenge for her. Before she died, she had taught you much about your role, but you were still a youngling, and some things were just not for you to hear at such an age.

You thought about the years that had passed after the loss of your clan’s Omega. Alpha Roan had insisted on your education, and your training, but the idea that you would be asked to leave your clan through The Exchange was always a distant threat. But, now, here it was. You had been called by your Alpha to sacrifice yourself for their benefit; not in a marriage of love, but in a clan trade.

You had been asked by your Alpha to think about your choice. After he left you to ponder your choice, you sat down in your chambers surrounded by your Watchers, the women who had raised you, who had taught you to read, to write, to fight, and to charm. They looked at you with the same guilty, knowing eyes, and they asked you if you were prepared to make the sacrifice.

“You do know what awaits you at the end of The Exchange, don’t you, Omega?” Watcher Trinity had asked you quietly, holding your hands in her shaking fingers, the wrinkled skin of her knuckles folding and stretching over her thin bones.

You nodded, “Yes, Watcher. I am to be given to a new Alpha.”

She had looked at you then, her eyes sharp and calculating, trying to figure out how she would ask her next question.

“Do you know the way in which you will be given, Omega?”

Her tone chilled your heart, sinking through your body like ice across a pond, freezing you in place. You waited. There was more that she needed to say, and you allowed her to explain.

And now that you knew the truth, you felt fully prepared to accept the terms of the agreement. You would deliver your people from their strife, and any pain, any shame, and any horror that you experienced from this point onward would be in service to your clan. You hoped that would be enough solace to sustain you. There was no shame in your sacrifice, you knew that. But, in your soul, you knew that knowing a thing and experiencing a thing were two vastly disparate sides of the same coin.

You informed your clan Alpha, holding your chin high,

“I accept the terms of The Exchange, Alpha Roan.”

“Your people are forever in your debt, Omega. Watchers,” he addressed your caregivers, “Please make preparations in the old way of our clan.”

“The old way, Alpha Roan?” Watcher Trinity had asked, her voice giving away her apprehension.

“Yes, Watcher. We will follow the law, no matter how… upsetting it may be. Clan 141 is too powerful for us to take any undue risks. If they do not accept her, we may not survive their engagement.”

Even in your sheltered little academy, you had heard of Clan 141. Their clan was small, but it was deeply feared. If any other clan dared step out of line, the 141 were there to rain hellfire and destruction down on them until there was nothing left. They were not cruel, but they abided no violent acts in their territory, and any whisper of rekindling the war efforts or of superseding the peace treaty was dealt with swiftly and decisively.

Before the war, kings and presidents and generals had pulled the strings. Now that the world lay in ruins, the 141 was the only thing between your small clan and total destruction from larger, more aggressive packs. The 141 was the only reason your people still had other clans to trade with; they had made sure smaller communities had access to fair market costs for food and services, and no one dared to shun your merchants now that you were under their protective wing.

Your Watchers had done their best to ease you into your preparations. Clan 141 would be at the neutral ground in six weeks, and your team had tried to make every moment of that window meaningful in your training. They had started slowly, teaching you to stretch your untouched hole with your fingers, showing you diagrams and depictions of your own anatomy, warning you of the physical trial of taking an Alpha’s knot.

It was mortifying when you endured your first test. Watcher Gillar and Watcher Bhin had made you sit in front of a mirror and show them your progress. You were told to clench and release the muscles of your hole on command, fluttering it to prove its strength. Then, they had produced a carved, glass phallus, expecting you to practice on a smaller model before moving you up to a more advanced size.

You took it from their hands, looking at its curved, rigid shape with wide-eyed curiosity, trying to swallow your grief at being seen doing the unthinkable by people you considered to be your closest friends and caregivers. It almost made you regret your decision. But, your people needed you, so you rested the smooth tip of the phallus at the entrance of your hole and began to shove it inside of yourself.

This new feeling was overwriting your mind, so alien and yet so very comforting to you, confounding in its sensations yet overwhelming in its unique, bright pleasure.

It was a struggle, but you managed to slip it into your body almost down to the large, bulbous knot on the end. The sharp pain of being entered for the first time was not as terrible as you had feared, but when you pulled the phallic rod back out of you, it was cloudy with your slick and your blood.

“Try the knot, Omega. Your Alpha will be twice as large as this, at least. You do not want your first experience to be at the ceremony. I know that you will want to appear strong in front of the other clans.” Watcher Bhin encouraged you, holding you to her shoulder as she sat behind you, trying her best to comfort you through such a harrowing ordeal.

You put their practice cock back inside of you, slipping down further than you had, feeling the wide anatomy pressing against your entrance, but still unable to take the full knot inside. You pushed and pulled with your muscles, just like your Watchers had taught you, but it wouldn’t budge. You were panting, sweating, and teetering on the edge of an embarrassing orgasm in front of your Watchers, and you gasped out, exasperated,

“I can’t. I don’t think I can do this, Watcher.”

“Lay back, Omega. I will help you,” Watcher Gillar said softly, replacing your hand with hers at the base of the phallus.

You lay down on your back against your soft pillows, trying to avoid your Watchers’ pitying eyes. Then, you felt a cool gel being applied around the sore ring of your hole; something to ease the way since there was no true Alpha present to coax your slick from your glands. Watcher Bhin had held your hand in hers, gripping you tightly, letting you squeeze her through the pain, wiping away your tears as the glass bulb of the pretend knot began to split you, stretching your body before finally popping into place.

You Watchers had comforted you for a few minutes, but then you were told to begin your meditations.

With much difficulty, you sat up, feeling the heavy knot nestled against your walls. Then, Watcher Bhin handed you a firm pillow, and you understood that you must straddle it, and that it would push the knot against you. You were to train your body and your mind to accept it so that you would have the stamina to withstand the ceremony.

“Do not be afraid to listen to your body, Omega. We will return to help you remove it and recover. I will light some incense for you. Concentrate on your strength.”

You nodded, uncrossing your legs and settling yourself over the firm pillow, feeling the deep, sacral grind of the phallus as you set your weight against it. When you were left alone, you began your breathing techniques, but all the while, a flush was rushing across your skin, the shadow of a rising desire to come, and yet subtly different. Something whispered in your mind, and you wondered if you could call your slick down yourself, without an Alpha’s help.

So, you tried, rocking back and forth across the pillow, churning the knot within your core, feeling the rounded tip rubbing against your deepest parts. You removed your robes, letting the flush keep you warm, watching yourself in the tall mirror, meeting your own eyes.

It took only minutes before a true orgasm was upon you, but you tried to hold it at bay, searching through the sparkling, cracking fog of pleasure for the part of you that made you special. No Beta would survive a knotting; they never did, and it was a crime to even try. But, you were meant for it, and you knew that your Watchers’ training would not let you down. You breathed through the bliss, reaching out with your mind towards your slick, imagining it, visualizing your success, manifesting it deep within you.

When the Watchers found you later that night, they woke you with cool rags and worried faces,

“What happened, Omega? How did you…” Watcher Gillar looked down at your bare legs to where the pillow sat under you, seeing a torrent of slick and milky come covering your skin and the silk of the bolster, confused by how you could produce it without an Alpha’s beckoning call. It was just not done, not even considered to be a possibility.

After that night, there was much chatter amongst the Watchers. They consulted old tomes, dusting off the pages in the library of your little academy where you trained far away from the rest of your village, kept up here in your tower like a Delphic oracle, buried like a treasure.

The training became more intense, and each practice phallus that your Watchers produced became harder and heavier, each bearing knots that were unfathomably large. You used your newfound power to face each of your challenges, less ashamed now to perform in front of your team, but knowing that the ceremony would be something else entirely.

You had asked about it one night as your Watchers were helping you bathe after a particularly difficult practice session,

“Will there truly be none absent from the ceremony, Watcher Trinity?”

“Only the cubs and their mothers are forbidden from attending. Otherwise, all clan members are obligated to witness The Exchange. We will even invite Clan Farlight and Clan Seres to the feast as a token of goodwill. You know this, Omega,” her tone was a little impatient, wondering why you were asking such a basic question, “Your Alpha has asked for your ceremony to be conducted in the old way, according to the original scrolls.”

“I am worried that I will dishonor you with my abilities. I cannot seem to take even these false knots without tears,” you repeated the old scripture, chanting it rote to your Watcher just as you used to do when you had started your adult training, “Omegas are vessels. They will silently submit. The ceremony will be still, honoring the sacrifice.”

Watcher Trinity knelt down beside your bath and made you look at her. Her eyes softened, and she told you,

“Yes, that is what is written, but it is not that simple. You have already honored us with your sacrifice. We have no grain. We have skinny, milkless goats, and our well is nearly dry. When we feast after your ceremony, the full bellies of your people will mean so much more than any perceived weakness that you are reluctant to show.” She grabbed your hand out of the warm water, holding it in hers, “If you need to cry, we will understand, and we will be comforting you from the crowd. Trust me, Omega.”

You tried to put it all out of your mind as you marched down the path, following behind your Watchers as they surrounded you, adorned in their own ceremonial garb. They had worn their armor and their long, red robes, carrying huge, black scythes like walking sticks, as was the custom of your clan. Your Alpha was walking in the front of your pack, guiding your clan to the meeting point. You could just see the white, canvas tops of the tents and yurts that had been constructed for the ceremony, meant to house hundreds of people for at least three days. Yours was the biggest, its adornment the most splendid. But that was little comfort to your frayed nerves.

You were miles from home at this point, missing the comfort of your room and your books, knowing that you would never return there, and that perhaps your new Alpha would not allow you to keep any of your belongings from your old life.

You’d heard horror stories from some of the Betas in your clan, tales of Alphas who used their Omegas like slaves, keeping them clad in irons, surviving in dark dungeons only to be used to breed and to give their Alphas carnal pleasure.

While you were being prepared for this journey, a pair of Beta women had helped you paint your skin, drawing intricate symbols and prayers in gold flake, chittering about the ceremony and the feast without knowing what you had been through over the past six weeks.

“This is the first time I will witness a ceremony done in the old way,” Beta Lilia said.

“Do you know which Alpha will claim you?” Lilia’s friend, Beta Tyran, asked you, not knowing how loaded her words were.

You shook your head; you didn’t even know how many Alphas belonged to Clan 141. Lilia gushed about them for you, taking the conversation out of your hands,

“Clan 141 has four Alphas! Can you imagine? I hear that they have an entire army of Omegas as well. Alpha Garrick is so handsome, and he has three gorgeous Omegas. They are almost too beautiful to look upon.. I saw him when I was at the central market once. He was leading a team, hunting the vagabonds who set fire to a farmer’s field, you remember when that happened? It was years ago now. He was so imposing. But, that other one was there, too.”

She made a face that was strong enough to make you ask about it,

“Which one?”

“The Ghost, Alpha Riley. They say that no one has seen his face. He wears a terrifying skull mask. I heard from Yair that he has three Omegas as his guards, all masked as well. Yes! Guards! They have armor and weapons and huge, bulging muscles. Beautiful and lethal –”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Beta Tyran interrupted, “No one would give their Omegas weapons. No one would let their Omegas out in the public markets! Imagine the danger.”

Lilia shrugged, “Yair said that these Omegas were the danger.”

Then, you heard about Alpha MacTavish, a descendant from one of the ancient warlords, charming and fearsome. He kept two Omegas as his brides, always pregnant, but almost as fearsome as Alpha Riley’s guards. Alpha MacTavish often expected them to travel with their Beta friends, to take their children up into the mountains, hunting and fishing and exploring outdoors. All sorts of stories about his large, loving family. You silently hoped you would be claimed by him. It would be nice to live amongst Omegas and their cubs.

“Which one is their Apex Alpha? There must be one in a clan with so many Alphas,” you mused, asking the girls since you did not know much about Clan 141 yourself.

The Betas shared a look, and then Lilia shook her head,

“You will not be claimed by him, Omega. Don’t worry.”

“Why?” You pried, using your influence to force her to tell you.

“His name is Alpha Price, the leader of Clan 141. He’s the deadliest man in the entire land, and he’s the one who destroyed Clan Konni.”

The weight of that news sank in, and the dramatic tone of her story had attracted other Betas and Watchers to gather around you to listen to her tale,

“Alpha Price has never claimed an Omega. They say that he had tried. He had found one of Alpha Garrick’s Omegas to be very pretty, but she tried to take his knot and failed, so Alpha Garrick took her under his protection instead.”

“Failed?” Watcher Bhin asked, shocked by the implication.

“My sister was a medic who served with the Alliance in the most recent skirmish, and the 141 helped defeat the rebels who were killing members of Clan Darrah a few years ago. She said that she served under the doctor who had healed Alpha Garrick’s Omega. Said he’d never seen anything like it before in his life. She was so strong, and yet…”

Lilia’s words hung heavy in the air, and all of the women looked at each other and then at you, suddenly feeling the weight of your sacrifice, ashamed at their earlier levity. Tyran shook her head and patted you on the arm,

“Don’t worry. Alpha Price will not claim you. You have nothing to worry about.”

That night, painted gold and covered in your black silks, you sat in your tent and meditated while you waited for the other clans to arrive. Your mind kept wandering to Alpha Price and his lonely existence. Had he really injured an Omega during his claiming of her? How large must his knot have been to do so? It made you shudder to think about it, and yet deep inside of you, your core warmed from the thought. If he imprinted on you…

But, imprinting was just a myth. Something only written in old texts as a footnote or a story. It was a part of the ritual of The Exchange, but it wasn’t real.

“Omega,” Watcher Trinity interrupted your meditation and peeked her head into your tent, “It is time to present The Cloth.”

Clan 141 was here, then.

The ritual of The Exchange began with The Shroud, which you were already wearing. Then, it was The Cloth. If all went well, it would then be The Meeting. And finally, The Ceremony.

The Cloth was a gift from the Omega to her new Alpha, a token of her affection and a chance for him to smell her scent for the first time. In ancient legends, this is when her true mate would imprint upon her, her Omegan scent bringing out his Alphic marks, dark spots or stripes across his neck and back, making him look like a big cat, ready to bite into her neck and claim her as his own.

She tried to shake herself out of that fantasy world. All she could hope was that one of their Alphas would be drawn to her scent enough to accept her. Her people were depending on her.

“Here is your cloth, Omega. I embroidered it myself. I hope that it honors you,” Watcher Trinity handed you a wooden box, carved and adorned with great care, and when you opened it, you found a red silk square of fabric, sewn with the sigils and symbols of your clan in fine gold thread. You smiled up at your Watcher and reached out to hold her in your arms,

“It’s perfect, Watcher. Thank you for caring for me.”

You were both fighting off tears when she finally pulled away. You hoped that your Alpha would at least let you say goodbye after the ceremony, even if you might never see her again.

Watcher Trinity and all of the other women left you alone again in your tent, giving you privacy to prepare The Cloth. You made yourself naked, and you began to rub the silk across your neck and glands, trying to soak your scent into the piece. Then, you wiped it between your legs, swiping up some of your wetness to coat the fabric. Usually, this would be enough. You could call your Watcher back into the tent and give her the box, and you would be done.

But, something in your heart told you to try to call out your slick. You listened to your instincts, and you began to rub the soft fabric against your folds, bringing your own pleasure to a warm, shining height. Just when you thought you might not be able to do it, that your nervousness would make it too difficult or that you might black out again from the effort, you felt something inside of you slip free. Then, your hole was flooded, the orgasm making your vision go blurry and form spots at the edges, your whole body convulsing from the strength of your pleasure, and you had to lay down just to try and stay awake through your gushing bliss.

You felt it coat the silk and your hand, a thick, milky slick, and your heart swelled with pride. You knew that a gift this special would sway the attention of at least one of their Alphas. You trusted in your skills and training that you were worthy of this ceremony and that your people would be saved.

Sitting up, you carefully opened the box and returned The Cloth to its resting place, soaked with your scent. You took time to clean yourself up, stuffing wet blankets into your laundry packs and hiding them away, remaking your nest before your Watcher would know what you had done. You weren’t sure why you were keeping a secret from them, but you just felt like this was something between you and your Alpha. A promise, of sorts.

You replaced your black silks and veil over your otherwise unclothed body and called your Watchers. They entered your tent along with Alpha Roan.

His eyes widened as he approached you, taking the box from your hands. Quietly, as if knowing that this was an extremely private affair, he whispered to you,

“What have you done, little Omega?”

“I am doing what needs to be done, Alpha. Please, deliver my message to my new Master.”

You use of the ancient terminology caught your clan Alpha off guard, but you were glad of it. If this was to be done in the old way, then you would withstand it, but you would also do it your way. You were the Omega, here, and you were the reason your clan would survive this struggle. It was time you started acting like the heroine that you were. You would be your people’s strength, no matter the cost.

“Very well,” Alpha Roan sighed, closing the box, calling out to your team, “Watchers, bring your Omega to The Cloth ritual.”

You were guided to the path again, leaving your tent behind and walking towards the big, outdoor theater. It was a crude coliseum of sorts, a large circular pit lined with rows and rows of carved seating that was cut into the land. People had already begun to line the viewing platforms, each clan decorated in their traditional garb. You felt proud to see the stripe of red where your people sat, holding each others’ hands and praying for your safe arrival.

You were not greeted with raucous applause but instead with reverent silence. Alpha Roan walked in front of your Watchers, and you were the last one into the theater, dressed only in your sheer shroud, trying your best not to feel self-conscious about the fact that - because of the firelight - everyone could see your naked, painted body through the veil, even though you were covered head to toe in the organza. In the tent, the lighting was low and kept you in darkness, hiding your body under the thin silk. But, not here in the theater. Your skin was illuminated by the torches, and you knew that even your friends and neighbors could now see your most private parts.

You made sure that your face did not give away your lingering shame.

Alpha Roan took center stage, and you saw the Alphas of Clan 141 for the first time.

Alpha MacTavish was standing between his two Omegas, and you mused that his oldest children must have stayed behind to care for his cubs. He was dressed in his Clan’s black gear, covered in armor like a gladiator, his head shaven into a mohawk, spiked and messy on the crown of his head. His body was huge and stocky, and the Omegas seated at his sides looked so tiny compared to his bulk. But, they were strong. Their bellies were round with the promise of future cubs, and their skin and hair glowed like the stars.

Alpha Garrick stood next to him, his Omegas seated together to his right, dressed in the finest robes you had ever seen. He clearly had a type, and you thought that they looked like triplets, all decorated in jewels and gold, riches you’d never even dreamt of. Their Alpha was every bit as handsome as the stories had promised. He had pouty, full lips that were curled in a snarky sort of smile, and his soft brown eyes exuded pure confidence. His hands were wide and powerful, resting on his curved blade that lay sheathed at his hip.

Alpha Riley was masked, as you had been told, as were his Omegas. They were not seated, and every bit of armor that was strapped to his hulking body was also strapped to them. They had glittering knives, bows, arrows, and slings, looking like they could win their own war by themselves. Their bodies were heavily muscled, and all four of them seemed as tall as Alpha MacTavish, standing proudly in leather boots.

Then, you saw Alpha Price. He was holding a large wooden stick, at least seven feet tall, with hundreds of notches sliced into the side. You wondered what he was keeping track of, and you shuddered to know. His beard was neatly trimmed, and his hair was cut high and tight on the sides. He was certainly bigger and better muscled than each of his men, but that was not what you noticed about him first. It was his eyes. They were piercingly blue, like glacial ice, and they were looking right at you. Hungry.

Something inside of your core tightened under his scrutiny, but Alpha Roan’s voice shook you from your trance,

“Clan Arlos welcomes Clan 141 to The Exchange. We present you with our offering, an unmated Omega, 26 years of age, fully trained in the old ways of our people. She is our greatest gift, and we ask for your acceptance of our sacrifice.”

Alpha Roan held up the box with The Cloth inside for all to see. He set it on the large, marble altar in the middle of the stage and backed away from it, waiting for the other Alphas to take part in the ritual.

Alpha Price spoke, and your body nearly trembled at the sound of his deep, purring voice. You were more nervous than you thought, and you tried to breathe to manage yourself.

“We will consider your honorable offering, Clan Arlos.”

With that, he slammed his huge stick against the stony ground and Alpha MacTavish stepped up to the altar. He opened the box, and along with the other Alphas in attendance, his body had a visceral reaction. His hands went to touch the cloth and he brought it to his nose, smelling your scent with a sort of wonder and amazement.

Then, to your great relief, he raised his hand, palm outward, as a show of his acceptance of your scent. If you accepted him as well, you would be mated.

But, the slamming sound of the stick shook you out of your celebrations. Alpha Price called up Alpha Garrick.

This was most unusual. Typically, only one Alpha had to agree. It wasn’t like you had much choice in the matter. Even if Alpha MacTavish’s scent did not stir your heart, you would still submit to him as expected. This was not a marriage of love but of convenience.

MacTavish looked back over his shoulder at Price, just as shocked as you were. His Omegas looked even more taken aback, strangely offended that you would not automatically join them. But, Alpha MacTavish returned the cloth to the box and made room for Garrick, disappointed and visibly confused.

Alpha Garrick opened the box and buried his face against The Cloth, breathing in once, twice, and then tasting the fabric, right in front of everyone. It was his right, but it was a little audacious.

His palm went up, high in the air, and his Omegas smiled and held each other’s hands, excited at your acceptance.

Another loud slam. Another rejection.

You may still end up with MacTavish or Garrick after negotiations, you remembered, but you were now wondering why Alpha Price had chosen to test you against all three of his men before making a decision. It was very odd. Alpha Roan looked greatly concerned.

Alpha Riley approached the altar, his gloved hands prying open the box, then, he lifted the bottom of his mask to reveal his mouth and nose. The slightest murmur of shock rippled through the crowd. He bent to smell your scent, and he raised his hand in the air, signaling his acceptance before replacing his mask. You thought you caught the hint of a smile just before his pale lips disappeared beneath the skull plate again.

Slam! The stick pounded against the floor.

All of Clan 141 turned to look at Alpha Price at once. Your heart stopped. Why would he… Why would Alpha Price want to undergo The Cloth ritual himself? He had no Omega. Surely, he wouldn’t claim you now, not after what had happened. You watched Alpha Garrick’s Omegas. One of them stared at Alpha Price with wide, glossy eyes. You thought that it must be his prior candidate for a mate. She was afraid for you. They were all afraid.

All eyes were on Alpha Price as he approached the altar, and the entire theater was silent as he took The Cloth in his hands. He lay it out flat, in no rush, inspecting the wet stain that you had left for him, using his thumb to feel the fine, gold embroidery. Then, his eyes darted up to yours. He was the first one to look at you while he held The Cloth to his nose, that icy gaze making you tremble with anticipation.

You were so lost in his eyes that you didn’t see what was stirring the crowd. There was a loud gasp and then an explosion of whispers. You looked around, trying to understand what was happening. Then, when he tucked The Cloth into his breast pocket, keeping you for himself, you saw it.

Long, red lines began to stain his skin like lightning. All of his veins tattooed themselves across his neck, and although his armor was covering his shoulders, you knew that the marks would be there as well.

Alpha Price had imprinted for you.

Then, he silenced the crowd by raising his right hand, palm up, staring at you the entire time.

You were whisked away, surrounded by your Watchers, hearing Alpha Roan’s voice behind you, sounding like protest, but you couldn’t make out the words. Compared to the initial silence, the area erupted in a shattering din, clans shouting and yelling over each other, the drama from the ritual dividing the people.

You thought you would be taken back to your tent, but you were brought to a large lake about five hundred yards from the theater. It was quiet again. No one was allowed to follow you here, it seemed.

Watcher Trinity tried to explain in a rushed whisper, helping you climb into a boat and rowing you out to the middle of the lake,

“There is a dispute for your claiming. Alpha Roan will negotiate new terms, and Clan 141 must decide who will be your Alpha. It will be alright, Omega. It’ll be alright.”

She sounded like she was trying to reassure herself more than you.

“What now?”

“Because there is not just one Alpha who has claimed you, they will undergo a ritual called The Trial. It is a fight; a test of will. Whichever Alpha can win will be granted the right to appeal to you first. If you reject him, then you will be given a chance to hear the appeal from the second.”

“So, it will be up to me, then?”

“Yes. Alpha Price has put the choice in your hands. Very odd, and not in our custom, but we must honor his wishes. You will wait here for the winner.”

You looked around. You were now in the middle of the lake, and there was a platform lingering just below the water. It was a wide stone block, about three meters wide in each direction. Watcher Trinity helped you out of the boat and you stepped tentatively onto the platform.

“Will you wait with me?” You asked, feeling the uncertainty and fear finally get the better of you.

“No, my Omega. I cannot. These waters are forbidden to Betas. Only Alphas and Omegas can touch it. Take this. It is your flare. If you are in trouble, if he tries to get to you, fire it high into the sky and we will rescue you. You can do this. I know you are strong. Wait patiently for your Alpha,” she paused, grabbing your hand, “I realize you are doing this for us, but please, follow your heart.”

“I will, Watcher.”

So, you waited. You meditated, standing in an inch of cool lake water as you tried to commune with the land around you. And you waited some more. Hours passed until, finally, you saw torches. Your Watchers lined one side of the lake, and they greeted the newcomers. Then, you saw him. Alpha Price was being stripped down by your Watchers. They took his weapons from him, and then his clothes, making him naked on the shoreline. He craned his neck, trying to look for you in the lake, but it was dark and you were dressed in black.

You could see him just fine, though. His huge body was covered in short, curly hair, dense and dark against his skin. His muscles bulged and popped as he peeled away his layers of clothing. They left his undergarments on, little more than a linen loincloth. Then, you saw your Watchers attach a huge, metal collar around his neck. They clamped it together with a padlock in the back, and a huge chain was attached at the latch.

They bound his hands, chaining them together, and then loaded him into the boat. They rowed toward you with his back facing the platform, and as he got closer, you saw his imprint markings, red and raised like jagged scars across his neck and shoulders. Your scent had marked him permanently. The welts would go down, and the red would fade, but it would always be there, evidence of his imprinting.

The boat reached you, and he climbed out of it, sitting on the opposite side of the platform from you, just far enough to be out of range for your scent.

His eyes found yours again, staring at you through your veil, finding your gaze with a natural ease. He held a small box in his hands, and you thought you saw the phantom of a smile across his lips as you looked over his face.

The boat rowed to shore, dragging the long chain all the way back, and you were alone with him. It was quiet for a long while. You were just staring at each other, studying each other, trapped in a silent battle.

You looked down at his hands, noticing for the first time his cut, bloody knuckles, and he saw the worry cross over your eyes.

“They’re fine,” he said quietly, “My men. If that’s what you were wondering.”

“But, you triumphed over them, clearly,” you replied, not trusting your own voice.

He chuckled a bit, sighing,

“I did.”

“You fought for me, then.”

The laughing stopped, and he lifted his chin, proudly,

“I did.”

“And you are here for my acceptance.”

He didn’t respond to your cue, but instead, he took the box in his hands and slid it across the platform, skittering it along the surface of the water, making little splashes as it landed in front of you.

You reached for it, opening it up to reveal a shining key.

“Throw it in the lake,” he commanded you, using his Alpha’s voice to bend your will.

It shocked you, and you were so close to obeying, but you stopped, cutting your eyes at him,

“What is this?”

“Throw. It. Omega.”

His voice seared through your blood, calling to you with old magic. You fought hard to keep your mind under your own control,

“Stop! Stop it. Tell me what this is, Alpha.”

“It unlocks my collar. Otherwise, if I make so much as a shift in your direction that they don’t like,” his head turned to look back toward your watchers, “They will pull me into the lake, and I will drown.”

“And if I unlock it…”

“Then, you will be my mate,” his tone turned vitriolic then, “And you will die.”

You let his words sink in, your curiosity overcoming your fear,

“You believe your knot cannot be taken.”

He spat back,

“My belief is not –”

“But, it’s not up to you,” you interrupted him, “Is it?”

The shock that washed over his bright eyes filled you with a sort of sick satisfaction. You should be afraid of him, but your roles were reversed out here on this rock, and you were holding him under your command.

“Toss that key, girl. MacTavish fought hard for you. He’ll care for you. He’s a good man.”

“Are you a good man?”

“No,” he growled, his eyes dropping to the water, examining the chains around his own hands, inspecting them for the bloodstains that he obviously thought should be there.

“I am here for my people, Alpha Price. I am not looking for a husband. I am a resource to be traded for other resources. My clan needs The Exchange. Our people are starving, and I –”

“I would not let them starve,” Price’s eyes shot back up, indignant that you would suggest that he would leave you and your clan without food or water.

You let yourself smile slightly, teasing him,

“Spoken like a good man.”

He twisted his lips over his teeth, but he stayed quiet. You continued to torment him,

“Why did you raise your hand for me?”

He sighed, sitting forward, sloping his shoulders toward you,

“I couldn’t help it. My Alpha…He…” He paused, searching for the words, “I could smell you through the box. I knew you from the moment I saw you walk through the arena. And when my men all raised their hands for you, I knew you would be accepted as our Clan Omega. You are mine in every way that matters. And I cannot have you.”

His voice was full of bitterness. You wanted to smell him. What were the chances that he was your true mate? One-sided imprinting was rare, but true mates were one in a million.

You stood, surprising him, and he jolted back, sitting up right. The chain around his wrists clattering. You looked over at the shoreline. Your Watchers held the long chain around his neck, heavy and sagging into the black water, ready to yank it tight if he lunged for you, if he fell prey to his Alphic instinct to breed you.

He watched you approach, seeing how the water rippled with every step you took, gazing upon the dripping silks that clung to your legs, devouring you with his eyes. You stopped in front of his crossed legs, Knowing that he could smell you now. Your pussy was shielded only with a few layers of silk, and you watched him flare his nose, sniffing you right in front of his face, blowing a slow exhale of air through his lips, making the organza billow between your legs.

“Can I smell your scent, Alpha?” You whispered, your voice slicing through the silence of the still lake.

His chains clattered as he twisted his head to look up at you, peeling his eyes away from your pretty pussy to meet your gaze. Then, he bent his head to one side, giving you his neck, showing you his scent gland, a sea of red stripes emanating from its center.

You bent over him, closing the gap, steadying yourself by laying a gentle hand on his huge shoulder. Then, you took a long pause and breathed him in. His scent swirled through your body, wrecking your other senses. It was only him. Alpha. Alpha. Alpha. Your Alpha. Your mate. Your true mate.

You felt the red marks of your imprint streak across your skin, and his eyes widened in shock as he saw them branch through your veins and across your gland just as his had done.

The click of a lock made his eyes flash back to you, and with that movement, his heavy collar tumbled into the lake, the drag of the chain singing as it scraped the side of the platform.

“What have you done, my Omega?” Price breathed.

It was the second time you’d been asked that question. Your response was still the same:

“I am doing what needs to be done, Master. I am giving myself to you, my true mate.”

The boats were in the water the moment the collar slipped from his neck. The Watchers were on you in moments, and Price’s Beta soldiers were there to collect him. You watched as they rowed you two apart, taking you back to your camps to prepare for the ceremony.

Your Watchers were in a rush. There were only a few hours until sunrise. Your wet robes were switched out for red ones, and a red veil adorned your head. Underneath, you were rubbed and painted and sprayed with oils, until finally, Watcher Trinity came forward with a bowl of salve. She had made it herself, you could tell. She cared for you so deeply.

“I trust you, Omega. I know you know what you’re doing. But, please take this. It will help your muscles relax for him, and it will make it easier to bring on your natural defenses.”

She was being coy, avoiding using the word to refer to your slick, knowing that you had your own method of calling it forth using your special power. But, you took it from her anyway, and after you were left alone again to meditate, you used two fingers to massage it into your hole, feeling its effects begin to warm you, making your flesh supple and pliant.

A hand curled around your tent flap, pulling it open. Instead of your Watcher, you saw one of Garrick’s Omegas. It was her, the one who had failed to take your Alpha’s knot.

She stepped inside,

“May I speak with you?”

You nodded, motioning for her to sit,

“Yes, but I’m afraid I already know what you are about to say.”

Her eyes widened,

“If you know, then why have you accepted this? Alpha MacTavish was his second. He is not to your liking? His Omegas are kind and –”

“No, they were all to my liking. I am eager to join your pack in whichever way I can, but Alpha Price is my true mate.”

You showed her your skin from under the red silks, knowing she could not see them through the red of the veil. She gaped at them,

“Your… true mate? He could… This could kill you, Omega. I don’t want to see you come to harm, and it would destroy him. I saw how he was after my accident. I nearly blamed myself for his deep sorrow.”

“I trust my training, Omega, and I am so grateful for your support, but he is my mate. What is meant to happen to me, will.” You stood with her, seeing your Watchers hovering just outside the tent, signaling them that you were ready to leave.

“Then, I trust you as well. The others are so excited to meet you. I wish you an easy path, and I hope your ceremony is just as you want it to be. After this, you will be our Clan Omega, and I will serve you until the end of my days.”

She kissed your cheek through your veil and left you to be delivered back to the altar.

For a long time, you had wondered if this final walk away from your pack would be a sad one. You expected every step to be filled with hesitation and fear. But, the only thing you felt was joy. Your mate awaited you at the end of this long path, and you were ready to submit to him. He was worthy of your strength, and he would help you deliver your people from danger. You would rule beside him, helping him use the 141 for good, eradicating the evil from your land.

The sun’s pink wash was rising out of the horizon line just as you reached the theater. The crowd was silent again, and you saw the pallor and shock painted on all of their faces. They were expecting a funeral instead of a feast. They had no idea why anyone would be so desperate as to sacrifice their only Omega to this Alpha, especially when it was not necessary. But, they didn’t realize that you were no prisoner. You were no one’s puppet. You were in charge, here, and your Alpha would breed you as you commanded him to.

Your Watchers led you to the altar, kissing your hands through the thin cloth as they passed you to take their seats near Clan Arlos, tears in their eyes and staining their cheeks, and finally, your clan Alpha approached you.

“Alpha Roan,” you greeted him.

“Little Omega,” he smiled, kissing your hands just as your Watchers had done. He didn’t need to, but it was his way of showing everyone that he trusted your choice, “I hope you know what you are doing.”

“I do,” you said, smiling at him through your red silk veil.

Then, Alpha Price’s men came through the center of the theater, each of them bending to kiss your hands. But, instead of the back of your knuckles, they turned them over to kiss your palms, a sign that they would accept what you had to give them. Alpha Riley was first, and he lifted his mask to show you his mouth and chin, his kiss warm and tender against your skin. Then, Alpha Garrick knelt down, placing multiple kisses along your fingers and wrists, displaying his loyalty and respect. Finally, Alpha MacTavish knelt before you, daring to whisper to you as he kissed your palms,

“Brave lass.”

You used your thumb to pet his lip, acknowledging his trust in you.

Then, it was time for the Omegas to join you. They approached as a unit, not individually as their Alphas had done, and they helped you lay on the altar, guiding your body back onto the marble platform. They pulled at your silks, allowing the crowd to see your naked body, painted in fine brushes of intricate gold designs, of prayers and songs of your people, their symbols adorning you from neck to toe. Finally, they began to kiss you, licking and sucking at your mouth like lovers, showing their devotion to you as their clan Omega.

As they kissed you, your skin began to flush hot, your body somehow knowing what was about to happen to you. The Omegas felt your fire against their lips, and they pulled your legs apart, each of them bending to lick and suck at your flower’s drooling petals, slurping and sucking up your creamy nectar. They were at your breasts, your neck, your belly, your hands and feet. You were overwhelmed with pleasure, shaking and trembling under their affection, yet moved by their deep loyalty. You knew you would be safe with them. They would care for you just as your clan had done.

Then, you heard the familiar slam of a longstaff. Your Alpha had arrived.

According to the ceremony, you were meant to be still and silent as a showing of your acceptance. If you moved or cried out in any way, you risked a clan war, as taking a mate without their consent was a dark offense. You had to prove to your people that you were here of your own free will, and even though you were feeling the static cling of apprehension beginning to worm its way into your chest, you tried to breathe through it, trusting your Alpha to lead you through this moment with his protective power.

Your legs were lowered to the stirrup-style rests that were carved just below the stone table, keeping your knees wide apart, allowing your pussy to drip openly, glistening with the beginnings of your slick. You calmed yourself as they left you alone, each of them kissing you softly once more to show their reverence.

Then, you heard the clatter of fallen armor. He was undressing, removing his warlord’s mantle and coming to you fully bare. You spotted him between the vee of your legs as he approached the dais, his imprint marks flushed a deep wine red, his body shining with the traditional oils, meant to give him another layer of aphrodisiacs, promoting his production of his seed, keeping his cock tall and hard.

But, you knew that your imprint on his gland would do more than all of their drugs combined. He would kill every last person in this arena to get to you at this point, and although you had consented to this joining, you were no longer controlling it. He would take you, no matter what.

Then, when he got close enough to your platform, you saw it. It was standing proudly against his thick, furry belly, dripping with precome and lubricants, glittering in the rising sun. His cock was immense. You had not practiced on one so large. And his knot was larger than your two fists pressed together. He was intact, and his foreskin was slipping down his flushed head, unable to contain the swelling glans. Your body threatened to quiver from your suspense, and you tried to move your mind into your meditative trance.

As he approached, he did not go straight for his position between your legs. Instead, he walked around the front of the marble platform and bent to look you in your eyes, leaning his head down for a deep, heady kiss. He fed you his tongue and suckled on yours, letting it writhe inside of his mouth, rubbing against his own probing muscle.

He pulled away to gaze upon you, his eyes soft and full of joy. You smiled up at him, watching as he enjoyed the rest of your body, caressing your breasts, admiring your paintings.

“Did my clan show you their loyalty, my Omega?”

“Yes, Master,” you answered quietly.

“Are you prepared for me to show you mine?”

“Yes, Master. I am,” you replied, giving him a brave face despite the absolute weapon that was slobbering for you against his belly. You wanted to taste it, but now was not the time.

He returned to the base of your platform, kneeling in front of your wet hole, bending to place his mouth against you. He began to suck, pulling your soft lips into his mouth like he was starving, lapping up the beginnings of your body’s fluids, moaning from the taste and the smell of your scent. You wanted to moan, you wanted to pin his head to your trembling quim, but you didn’t dare move a muscle or make a single sound. Breathing in, breathing out, letting the sparks of an orgasm rush through you, bringing tears to your eyes from holding back so much pleasure.

Your Watcher’s salve was almost too effective. It had made you pliant, but now you were beyond sensitive, able to feel the pound of your own heartbeat through your hole, desperate for something to press inside of you. You needed his cock.

But, he did not give it to you. He just sucked and sucked and sucked, and his fingers began to rub along the entrance of your slippery hole, pressing down on your pussy’s walls, testing their strength. You fluttered for him, just like your Watchers had taught you, and you felt him stumble in his movements, shocked by your power.

He stood between your legs, his face and beard soaking from his meal, letting you drip off of his chin like a messy hound drinking from a river. Then, to test your resolve, he teased you with a little bit of meanness, stepping forward to let his cock lay along your body, measuring himself on the outside of you. He reached far beyond your navel, his lubed phallus warm and heavy, his knot resting in the softness of your folds, and you could feel him throbbing for you.

You didn’t dare move, but you wanted to cradle his cock in your hands, to rub up and down his length, to feel the smoothness of his head and the firmness of his knot. But, you stayed stock still, showing the crowd that you would not waver. There was some soft chittering from the clans, the shock at his size obviously enough to break onlookers out of their respectful quiet.

Then, he began notching his head at the entrance of your pussy, letting the tip slide up and down your tight ring of muscles that guarded your entrance.

“Last chance, Omega. Call it off. Cry out, and my own men will cut me down,” he bade you under his breath, having a hard time holding his words and sentences together, his voice shaking in his throat.

You looked up at him with closed lips, making a point to give him a soft smile as a response.

No deal.

You pulsed your muscles again, making your pussy lap up his sloppy precome like a little mouth, watching as he was torn apart by your action, no matter how minor.

So, without any other choice, he fed himself into you. It was a fearsome experience, at first. You weren’t sure if you could actually handle him. But, you breathed through the stress, relaxing your body, finding that deep, secret place inside of you, making your slick drop down for him, flooding your hole to welcome him in.

The confusion that painted his face was so satisfying. He couldn’t understand the sheer warmth and comfort he was experiencing. His cock was being sucked into you, deeper and deeper, and finally, you felt his knot.

He pulled all the way out of you, and sheathed himself all the way back in, always reaching to that one spot, just above his bulbous anchor, and then starting his process over again. Each time his cock fucked its way through your body, humping himself into you, creamy, milking noises filled the quiet, open-air arena. The whole ensemble could hear him invading your hole, the lurid slap of skin on skin loud and unashamed.

His phallus was large enough to rub against your most sensitive spot over and over, bullying it into producing more and more slick, making you come just by dragging his heavy cockhead over it, in and out, in and out, pounding into you with almost reckless need.

You came for him, and your body began to shiver from the overwhelming bliss, but you held your voice. You tried to still yourself, not wanting to show weakness, but there was nothing you could do. You were shattered by his cock, coming over and over again. It was an endless wave. You had no idea where one started and the other stopped.

You could taste blood in your mouth from biting the inside of your cheek. Still, you pushed through it, testing yourself with every push and pull of your body.

His huge hands pawed at your hips and breasts, squeezing you, watching your plump flesh jiggle with every cruel strike of his hips. Your Alpha took your own slick and began to rub it all over your skin, swirling it around your nipples, letting it smear across your belly from his palm. Then, he painted himself, taking it from your well-fucked hole and rubbing it across his scent gland, down his chest, matting his hair with your wetness.

Then, you felt his precome begin to pump out of him. You knew it had begun because this was when your slick was meant to wash through you, but there was no space for anything else. So, it began to pour out of you and over his knot. Every time he pushed it against your body, it threatened to slip into your hole, and you were filled with a twisted excitement, ready for it to be stuck inside of you, to churn and grind against your insides, to trap you in a blinding, rageful bliss. You nearly cried out from the heavy want you felt in your chest.

“You ready for my knot, pretty Omega?” He growled, no longer speaking to you softly. There was no gentleness left within him.

He shoved you back across the dais, climbing up onto it with you, breaking every protocol by doing so, but knowing there wasn’t a single other Alpha in attendance who would do anything about it unless you asked them to. But, he trusted you, lifting himself above you, bringing his face to your face, kissing you and beginning to lick your scent gland, making you see stars.

Would he really bite you right here in front of all these people while you were about to take his knot? It was beyond intimate. Not only was it private, but it was dangerous. It was when an Alpha was most vulnerable. The audacity of this man shook you to your core.

“Bite me, Omega. Please take me. Claim me as yours, sweetheart. Show them that you are mine. My Omega.”

His voice was ragged and deep, a hoarse purr of commands, all of which you were happy to obey. You began to lick his neck, putting your mouth over his gland as you began to suck at the round swell of flesh. Then, just as you canted your hips, feeling his knot slip inside of you, shoving and burying itself within the tight sheath of your pussy, you used your muscles to yank him the rest of the way in, and you bit down on his neck, hard, your body seizing from a hard, ruthless orgasm. .

You heard the crack of his gland, and you felt him sink his fangs into yours, the pain and the pleasure mixing within you like a drug, his cock firing rope after rope of searing hot come into your belly, flooding your womb with his spend. He pulled his mouth away and stared into your eyes. His pupils were blown wide, his face full of disbelief,

“My love…”

You kissed him, taking his lip into yours, suckling on it, trying to guide him back down from his tantric high. He was struggling above you, stuck deep inside of you, unable to stop himself from dumping heavy loads of his come into your body, his cock pulsing and throbbing with each burst of his cream.

He rested his head on your neck, returning his mouth to your gland, and every time he licked it, now, you felt your pussy twist around him, threatening to slam you with another orgasm. You licked him, too, hearing him cry out against your skin, feeling the mirror of your sensations, his heavy phallus jerking as you sucked on his broken gland.

Finally, he was able to rock back and forth, letting his knot slip out of you before popping it back inside, fucking you with it just like he did with his cock. He twisted his hips forward, driving into you with all of his strength, and then he would pull himself back out, the swell of his knot increasing with each thrust until, on the last thrust, he was finally trapped, unable to remove himself from your core.

Now, though, it was your turn. You began to use your muscles to push and pull him from the inside, fucking him like a sleeve of smooth, soaked warmth, jerking his shaft up and down with your insides.

“Oh, fuck…” He whispered, not expecting your skills to be so advanced, but you had trained hard for this moment. You weren’t about to let it go to waste.

You moved him inside of you, letting his knot take the brunt of your efforts, squeezing it like a fruit, making sure all of his juice melted into your skin. You made him come like this again, using the salve that your Watcher had given to you as an advantage, knowing that the heightened sensitivity you felt was now being passed on to him. He filled you up, his knot plugging your hole, preventing any of his seed from leaking out, and your tummy was swollen from his load, round and full for everyone to see.

He sat up on his heels, looking down at you with his eyes full of adoration and wonder, watching your strong abdominals clench and twist as you used them to help you work inside of yourself, edging him over and over before pulling him down into the depths of another hard come with you.

His hands went to the bulge of fluid in your belly, most of it flooding into your womb, unable to escape anywhere else. Your Alpha caressed your skin, marveling at the fullness. Then, he looked down at your stretched hole, playing with your clitorus that had been forced out from under its hood due to the sheer size of his knot, all of your skin bowing around it and pulled tight.

Your Alpha forced you to come like this, milking him hard, trying not to make a sound but giving away your mind-bending pleasure with shaking, whimpering breaths.

“That’s a good Omega. So full of my come.”

You smiled up at him, enjoying the full feeling of his come inside of you. But, you were losing your strength, and he could feel it. Alpha Price leaned over you again, grinding himself down into you and helping you reach one last orgasm, pulling himself along with you, squirting the last of his spend into your pussy. Then, he carefully twisted his cock out of you, watching the gush of his come coat the marble platform, dripping out of you and down the sides of the dais.

You were so empty and weak, but you were being lifted, cradled in his arms, and the whole arena burst into revelrous applause. The feast had begun, but not for you. You would be in your Alpha’s tent, and there you would remain until he bred you, making sure that you were laden with his cub, sharing food and drink with him in bed while you were stuck on his knot, traditionally until sunset when you would be presented to the clans as the new Apex Omega, destined to rule beside him forever.

“Are you done being quiet, my Omega?”

“Yes, Master,” you whispered, nestling into his broad chest.

“Good,” he smiled, “I need to hear you scream for me.”

“And I need my Alpha to breed me. I need your knot again, Master. Don’t pull it out.”

“I’m at your command, my love,” he smiled, planting a kiss on your temple, smearing his own salve across your swollen flesh, working his cock until he was hard again.

When you felt his knot for the second time, you knew you had made the right choice. Your people were safe, and so were you. You weren’t sure if it was the high of your claiming or the truth that you felt in your heart, but you were eager to be dripping with his come every night. Trapped underneath your Alpha was right where you belonged, knotted and full of his love.

Seriously, send help. I was too ashamed to even reread it for typos. I'm so sorry.

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #cod #john price #call of duty #captain price #captain price x you #john price x female reader #x female reader #x fem!reader #captain price x reader #alpha john price x omega reader #omegaverse #alpha beta omega #ritual #public exhibition

1K notes · View notes

standardquip · 2 years ago

Text

(5 April 2023) Started the #DIY #JysGarden #pond expansion 2 days ago. Hit the giant slate that runs under my property 2ft deep. This is as deep as the original pond, but was hoping I could get it deeper on this side. Oh well. Still moving forward. Pond will be double in size and have a #bog filter.

Photo of old pond when it was actually clean and stuff: https://tmblr.co/ZriYmRe23yCGOW00

#mastodon backup #jysgarden #sqland #pond #pond expansion #diy #my photo #my photos

0 notes

mastertook · 2 years ago

Photo

Huge elegant backyard brick and custom-shaped natural pool house photo Picture of a large, elegant backyard with a naturally formed pool

#used brick hardscape #indoor outdoor living #outdoor fireplace #poolhouse #koi pond #pool house #large total home remodel and expansion

0 notes

harryspet · 5 months ago

Text

well kept [3] r. cameron

[warnings] dark!ceo!rafe x reader, size difference, billionaire!older!rafe, shy!reader with low self-esteem, reader is a person who stutters, boss x personal assistant, heavy abuse of power, emotional/mental manipulation, DUBCON, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: Pls reblog and let me know what you think! Thank you so much for all the feedback so far :)

word count: 4.5k

In which it's your first day working from home with Rafe and you have a new lesson to learn.

well kept masterlist

The Cameron residence was fifteen minutes outside of downtown Charlotte and situated in a large neighborhood where hills and huge oak trees hid all the houses. You didn’t really see his house, only what you could tell was large pond, until the driver was at the end of the mile-long driveway. When you did, you felt woefully underdressed. Assuming that being inside all day meant you could opt for something casual, you’d chosen a cream knit dress.

Following Rafe’s instructions, you sent him photos of each outfit you tried on, but he hadn’t told you which ones you could return. It was another blow to your confidence. You began to doubt whether he’d even been serious, but the fear that he might mention it the next day kept you from taking any chances.

Stepping out of the black Escalade, your eyes widened as you took in the architectural masterpiece before you. The house was a striking blend of traditional and modern styles, with a light-colored exterior contrasted by dark shutters framing the windows. A stone chimney rose from the roof, and the three-car garage with wooden doors added a rustic touch.

After your car drove away, a tall and impeccably dressed staff member named Anthony guided you up the stone-paved driveway. From your cheat sheet, you recalled that he was the House Manager. Rafe required a full team: Anthony, two housekeepers, a private chef, a driver, a gardener, and now you—his personal assistant. The inside of the house was as intimidating as the exterior. The expansive foyer featured high ceilings and a grand staircase that curved up to the second floor. To the left, you caught a glimpse of the formal dining room. Each room you passed was more impressive than the last. Anthony informed you that there were six bedrooms and eight bathrooms.

“I don’t usually work on Fridays but Mr. Cameron wanted me to give you a tour of the house and show you the ropes of house management. It’ll be important for you to be able to oversee the staff when I’m absent and understand the scheduling.”

Once again, it was all too much to take in. Today was your fifth day working for Rafe, and you’d barely survived until now.

“I want to clarify that what happened yesterday stays between us. That includes Eleanor. Okay?”

That was all he said about his outburst. There was no apology for groping you, for pinning you down on his office couch, or for taking your virginity. If you were to tell the story, you’d have to mention how your body had betrayed you—not once, but twice. But you had said no. You didn’t want to use the word that described what happened to you. You didn’t want to think about it at all.

And it didn’t happen again—not over the next three days. He continued to be harsh, forcing you to apologize for every small mistake, even those you weren’t aware of.

As you followed Anthony through the expansive kitchen, you couldn't help but marvel at its sheer size and sophistication. The kitchen was a chef's dream, with gleaming marble countertops that seemed to stretch endlessly, state-of-the-art stainless steel appliances, and custom cabinetry in a rich, dark wood finish. An oversized island dominated the center of the room.

At the far end of the kitchen, massive glass-paneled doors stood, offering a glimpse of the world beyond. The porch was furnished with elegant wicker seating with plush cushions. The space was perfect for elegant parties, with enough room to accommodate at least a dozen guests.

Beyond the porch was a stunning infinity pool stretched out towards the horizon. As you walked closer, to the right, you took notice of a garden. You spotted the gardener, Tyler, who Anthony had mentioned earlier. In simple clothes, the young man blended easily into the scenery.

“This is where Mr. Cameron will typically entertain his guests,” Anthony said,

The beauty of the outdoor space was undeniable, but so was the control that permeated every aspect of it. You wondered what hand Rafe played in how spotless it looked. You could almost picture him, his jaw clenched and eyes blazing with a harsh intensity, if even the smallest detail were out of place. It was easy to imagine him demanding that every leaf, every petal, every stone be exactly where it belonged.

Did his staff ever make mistakes? Did he make them beg him forgiveness like he did with you?

“Shall I show you the study? It’s approaching seven-thirty.”

You nodded, a small smile on your lips. He was kind but part of you didn’t want him to hear your voice shake or your face contort into an uncomfortable position as you struggled to get your words out.

There would be enough struggling today, you knew that.

Surprisingly, Rafe’s home office was more quaint than you expected. Dark wood panneling decorated the walls as well as floor-to-celing bookshelves. As you made your way around the room, you took note of the picture frames containing images of what you believed to be his family. Here, it seemed he had a heart. The four of them stood on a dock, sun shining down, and his arms were wrapped a young girl with dark brown hair. His smile was genuine and there was darkness lingering in the blues of his eyes.

Other than the bookshelves, the room only contained his desk, a set of leather couches and a coffee table. The smaller room still managed to exude sophistication but it was far less imposing than you expected.

The room almost felt intimate as sunlight trickled in through light colored curtains. You were standing behind his desk, glancing out his office window which faced towards the nearby pond. Beside it, sat a gazebo, although you couldn’t imagine Rafe enjoying it. You wondered if he lived here alone as you saw no traces of the other three people in his family photo.

“Boo,” You yelped as you heard Rafe’s deep voice.

You placed a hand over your beating heart as you looked toward where he stood in the doorway. Having been deep in thought, you hadn’t heard the door opened. He knew that much which explained the amused look in his eye.

Everything flooded back at the sight of him. The air had already left your lungs. You felt his body pressing down on yours, warm breath against your ears, and that pain between your legs.

The door clicked shut, making you flinch.

“Good morning,” he said, his gaze fixed on you.

It hit you then, you hadn’t greeted him like you were supposed to.

You were taken aback by his appearance. He was wearing gray sweatpants and a plain navy t-shirt, a stark contrast to your heels and carefully applied makeup. You weren’t sure why you were expected to dress up, especially when he looked so casual.

“G-Good morning, Sir,” You crossed the room, his eyes locked on yours. You remembered where he liked you, near the door, ready to greet him and present yourself to him. You hated how your voice always betrayed you, how weak it made you sound. Your only saving grace was that you’d already memorized his schedule for the day, having spent the entire commute looking at your laptop. You recited it to him, including the midday Zoom call he had with Kelce and Topper.

Topper, you had learned, was Eleanor’s husband. Rafe hadn’t ever touched her but the way Eleanor always answered your questions with vague responses made you suspect that her relationship with Topper mirrored your own with Rafe. She hadn’t warned you but now you were suspecting that was because Rafe seemed to always get what he wanted, no matter who got hurt in the process.

You froze the moment his hand reached out to touch you. His fingers curled around your side, hovering just above your stomach but dangerously close to your breasts. His grip was surprisingly gentle as his thumb grazed over the fabric of your dress. You stiffened as his other hand mirrored the first, sliding across to the opposite side of your body. “Eleanor picked this,” he murmured, his brows knitting together as his gaze slowly traveled down your figure. A jolt shot through you as his thumb brushed over your nipple, sending a wave of panic coursing through you.

“Y-You don’t like it?” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.

He clicked his tongue, “Turn around for me.”

You did as he said, “Doesn’t do enough for your figure,” Your heart panged in your chest, suddenly feeling self-conscious of your own shape, “Are you wearing the panties I sent you?”

All you could do was nod. Rafe never commanded you to wear the panties everyday to work but you didn’t risk it. Luckily, they were all comfortable despite the lace and cheekiness.

“Pull up your dress,” He said next.

You’d spent the last three days in a fog, trying to make sense of the situation, trying to understand why your body betrayed you. When you were younger, you always asked the universe why you couldn’t speak like the way all your friends at school did. Now you asked the universe why Rafe’s voice made you want to clench your thighs together. Why you had felt empty ever since he’d finished inside of you. Why you wanted to try again, to experience that intimacy again without so much fear. Your life was so simple before but now it felt like it was too late to turn back.

Your thoughts were too jumbled. Rafe cleared his throat and you realized you were just staring back, “I’m not gonna fuck you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Please-”

He rolled his eyes, “Don’t make me ask again.”

You squared your shoulders. “I’m nnn-nn-not comfortable—”

“Just do it.”

You reached down to the edges of your dress, slowly pulling the fabric to your waist. It was nothing he hadn’t already seen and yet you were shaking, “Turn around. Face the other way.” Like a robot, you obeyed. You’d chosen a light pink color today.

“Good,” You felt him against you. He pulled your hair back over your shoulder and leaned down against your ear, “Maybe I should make you walk around naked while you’re here, hmm?”

You bit down on your lip, wanting to contain the protest that was about to leave your mouth. You wanted to lean into his touch, to embrace the comfort that would accompany the torture. He brushed past you just as you tilted your head back, “Go make me a coffee,” He commanded.

He made his way behind his desk and you reached down to move your dress, “Did I say to pull your dress down?”

“N-No, Sir,” You moved your hands quickly to your sides.

“I could make you walk around like that, couldn’t I?” He asked, leaning back in his chair.

He tilted his head and you realized you needed to answer. You gave him a painful look. You could say no but what would it cost you, “I . . . I don’t know,” He wasn’t satisfied by your answer, clearly. It was torture to force the words out, “Y-Yes.”

“Right answer,” He said, “Pull down your dress, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t help but see the irony in the fact that despite that you upgraded to a salaried job, you were still making coffee for the rich and spoiled. The opulent kitchen had an even fancier coffee machine than his office. Your movements as you prepared his steaming mug of coffee were precise despite the turmoil in your mind.

Searching for solutions, your mind landed on the idea of trying to assert your competence. Sure, you could make a great cup of coffee but the whole point of getting a real job was so that you could have real skills to market yourself. You could be perfect at this job, anticipate his every need, and you could more than an object to look at.

You re-entered his office quietly after realizing he’d begun his first meeting of the day. Carefully, you set his coffee down on the edge of his desk. He was always so intense, so completely absorbed in his work, and that unwavering focus made you even more anxious. Maybe that’s how you should be, more composed, projecting an air of confidence.

Unsure of where you should settle, you made yourself comfortable on one of the leather couches. You checked your email on your laptop, finding several reminders from Eleanor. You found yourself frustrated by how she picked and chose what information to share with you but you balanced those feelings with the fact that she was often your saving grace.

She gave you a list of tasks including arranging for a delivery of documents that needed to be signed by Rafe, confirming his dinner reservations for the night, and proofreading the notes you took from yesterday’s meetings. You told yourself by the end of the next week, you’d be able to handle things by yourself, and you wouldn’t have to lean on her so much. You’d have a day, eventually, where Rafe didn’t point out anything you did wrong.

“I was thinking-” Rafe’s voice cut through the silence. You were so focused that you hand’t realized his meeting had ended. He folded his hands over each other, his eyes on you, “From now on, I want you to wear what I pick for you each day.”

“How …y-you’re not happy with what I’ve been choosing?”

“It’s not about not being happy. Now I have more of an idea of what I like on you,” His voice was smooth and authoritative, “You want to reflect my taste, my standards, yeah?”

You mustered the courage to ask your next question, “Can I-I dress a l-little less … formally when I work at home with you?”

“Less formally?” He tasted the words on his tongue, “You mean, like more casual?”

“Yes, Sss-sir. Like more comfortable.”

“We could experiment with that,” His tone was deceptively light, “On my terms though. Yeah?”

You nodded and were grateful that he hadn’t reacted lightly. He seemed to enjoy that you were asking him for permission.

“You’ll have to wear something different tonight though, for dinner. Eleanor is coming by towards the end of the day to bring you your outfit and take you to get your nails done.”

“Oh,” Your eyes opened wide, “I-I thh-thhought it was more of a personal-”

“I won’t keep you out forever,” He said, “You got plans or something?”

You shook your head quickly, “No, Sir.”

Rafe worked through lunchtime, so you brought him the meal prepared by his chef, Stevie—an elegant older woman with blonde hair. She had made a pesto pasta salad that looked like it belonged in a gourmet magazine, despite your protests and insistence on eating your own packed lunch. Only after delivering the meal did Rafe grant you permission to take your break elsewhere.

You settled on the outdoor patio by the pool, enjoying the peacefulness of the space despite the distant, steady hum of a lawnmower. For a moment, you didn’t feel out of place. Your dress, though apparently unflattering to your figure, was worth a small fortune, and the gourmet lunch you were now enjoying was a far cry from the PB&J you’d packed.

Thirty minutes later, after finishing your lunch and enjoying a lengthy chat with Stevie, you reluctantly headed back upstairs. Hearing Rafe still on the phone, you decided to explore a bit more. His office was situated in the private wing of his house, and as you meandered through opulent corridors, you couldn’t resist sneaking a glance into the master bedroom. It was cozier than you had anticipated, with tall gray walls that gave it a masculine feel and a plush bed draped in navy linen blanket that created a snug, cocoon-like atmosphere.

Rafe ended his call a minute later and the afternoon wore on. You settled into a rhythm, completing the various tasks that you’d added to your own to do lists and ones he’d assigned to you. You spent some time organizing files in his office. His gaze burned into you, even more when you were turned around, and surprisingly, you were starting to get used to that unnerving feeling.

He waited for you to make a mistake but you used a hundred-percent of your effort to make sure that didn’t happen.

The clock inched towards the evening, and the day grew even more quieter, more intimate. “I was looking over your notes from yesterday’s meeting with the board members. I highlighted some sections for you to read back to me,” He waved you over, his voice gruff after a long day of talking. You joined him behind his desk and you moved to lean over and get closer look, but he placed a hand on your hip. The gesture was firm, possessive, leaving no room for hesitation. With effortless strength, like a wolf guiding its prey, he maneuvered you onto his lap, settling you on his thigh. You felt the power in his grip, the unspoken control, and all you could do was comply.

“Rafe–” You started, an desperate attempt at a protest.

“Start with the first section,” He commanded, his grip tightening.

“I’ve been working on proofreading them–”

“Sweetheart,” He warned, not needing to add that you were making him angry. You could feel it, the heat coming off of him.

You took a deep breath and slowly tried to read each sentence. Even if you didn’t have a sentence with a small typo, you still stammered over several of your words. He slid the chair closer to the desk and you yelped.

“See right here,” He pointed to the screen but that only pressed him into you. You breathed slowly, trying not to hyperventilate, “This whole section needs more detail. I don’t want to have to ask more information.”

You were taken aback when Rafe actually began to instruct you on what you were meant to do. He spent at least ten minutes walking you through each sentence, explaining how to word your report, and deleted all the unnecessary details you added. He was surprisingly patient.

“Now, your turn,” he said finally, leaning back in the chair. For a moment, you thought he was letting you up, but the pressure of his hand on your waist told you otherwise. “Fix it.”

You swallowed, hesitating as your fingers hovered over the keys. Ever keystroke was amplified in the quiet room. Doing your best to actually use your brain, you carefully made the changes he suggested. He watched you closely, his hands first placed on your hips but soon one wandered between your thighs.

“Good,” He said. You could do it again, you thought, and not be so scared. His touch was teasing, a reminder of what he could do to you, all the pressure that built inside of you a spilled over. You could impress him, you could be beautiful, and not turn into a crying mess when he was inside of you. You could be more than a fragile thing to be broken.

Each word was a small victory. It was a battle you thought you could win until his fingers slipped inside your panties and his other hand grabbed a handful of one of your breasts. It was unbearable, and as he made small circles, you found your fingers slipping clumsily over the keys.

You pressed your palms into his desk, your body tilting forward. A frustrated sigh left your lips, you couldn’t contain it, and Rafe’s chuckle rumbled from behind you, “Do you ever touch yourself like this? Be honest with me this time.”

“Y-Yes,” You whispered.

“How do you do it?” He pulled you away from the desk, pulling your torso against his, “You use a toy?”

“J-Just my fff-fingers,” You admitted.

“Like this? How do you like it?” Carefully, he switched between different approaches. He rubbed circles over your clit, smaller ones and then slower, bigger ones. Then he stroked you up and down, fingers slipping easily into your warm hole as he wandered lower, “You put those little fingers inside of you?”

“Rafe, please.”

“Tell me,” He kissed the side of your neck, “Or I’ll stop.”

"I-I don't usually put them inside… ," you confessed, your voice barely more than a whisper. "I always use my pillow…”

He hummed against your ear. "See how much better this is when you cooperate? You can be such a good little assistant when you try."

You nodded, unable to speak, and let the feeling consume you. He brought you right to the edge, you were seconds away coming undone, but his movements slowed. Before you could register the feeling as disappointment, Rafe was hoisting you off of his lap.

Moving with sudden determination, your feet were suddenly off the ground and Rafe was carrying you out of the room in his strong arms, “Rafe!” You clutched his shoulders as he carried you down the hall.

You turned your head as he nudged the bedroom door open with his foot, the heavy thud of the door slamming shut reverberating through the room. With a swift motion, he laid you gently on the bed. The softness beneath you was just as you had imagined, but the thought barely registered. You shot him an incredulous look, your face flushed with a mix of pleasure and frustration.

He leaned over you, grabbing a pillow from behind you and placing it in front of you, “Show me.”

You shook your head instantly and moved to crawl away. Somehow, you could let all of his other sleazy behavior slide by but this was an insane boundary for him to try to cross. He’d already been inside you and yet this was a thousand times more intimate.

He grabbed ahold of your thigh, “You’re so close, sweetheart. I know you want it,” He challenged you, “Probably feels like you need it.”

“Please,” You tried, your voice threatening to crack. His hands found your hips again, slowly positionin you over the pillow. The soft fabric brushed against your most sensitive spot, the familiar sensation making you bite down on your bottom lip, “Rafe.”

“You saying my name like that just makes me want it more,” Balancing on his knees, he grabbed ahold of your face and leaned in to kiss you. You felt the intensity of his desire, how much he wanted this, and it left you dizzy.

When he pulled back, he looked over you. Your hips started moving in a familiar motion despite your embarrassment. You trembled from the vulnerability, the pounding in your chest, but you chased that high he gave you. It ignited your fire again, and since you didn’t have the full force of his touch anymore, you focused your eyes on him, “Good girl,” He said again and you whimpered, “Look at me just like that.”

You rolled your hips harder, faster, imagining his kiss, his touch, as the tension coiled tighter inside you. His gaze never left yours, his words a constant stream of encouragement and control.

“Doesn’t that feel good?”

His words all jumbled together.

“Just let it happen.”

“I want to see your face when you cum, sweetheart.”

“You look so desperate.”

“So needy.”

“You’re gonna make yourself cum, huh?”

“Just because I told you too.”

“Such a good girl.”

“Look at you.”

The words pushed you over the edge, finally, and you were able to let go. He watched as you rode out that wave of pleasure and his hands found your body again, his grip grounding you. “Fuck,” You heard him say but you couldn’t respond.

You were too overwhelmed to respond, your mind unable to fully process what had just happened. All you knew was that you felt good, embarrassed, and strangely satisfied that you'd pleased him, all at once.

When you manage to look at him again, the doorbell rang.

Eleanor navigated through the upscale nail salon, a palace of white and silvers, with ease, like she was a regular, and this was just an extension of her universe. You imagined this place as an escape for her, from both Rafe and Topper. She secured side-by-side seats near the back of the salon and you followed her lead as she set down her purse and removed her sandals. Her movements were fluid and assured.

“Have you thought about what color you want?”

“Oh, um, n-no,” You tried to make yourself comfortable in the pedicure chair, “What d-do you think Rafe would like?”

“Maybe something pastel. You can’t go wrong with a soft pink.”

“Is that what you’re getting?” You asked, unassured, as you glanced around the luxurious setting. It wasns’t like other nail salons you’d been to where the technicians and customers talked at whatever volume they liked. It was quiet and each technician wore matching black uniforms.

“I’ll tell them you want ballet slipper on your nails and white on your toes.”

You nodded, grateful for her guidance, “Thank you.”

As your pedicures began, the warm lavender-scented water soaking your feet, two technicians took their places by your sides, working silently as they filed your nails.

“How are you holding up?” Eleanor asked.

“Fff-fine,” You said, “I’m trying to . . . t-to understand him, I guess.”

“You’ll go crazy doing that,” She laughed lightly, flashing a look that said “poor you”.

“How d-did you meet Topper?” Her face tightened at your question, “I mean, y-you didn’t say.”

“I’m from the same town as them, Rafe and Topper. Not really the same town, my parents didn’t have money growing up. But I worked at the country club they all went to. That’s how I met Topper.”

“And you started dating?”

“Something like that,” She made a small shrug, “I owe everything I have to them.”

You nodded, sensing the weight of her words despite the lack of detail. Another piece to the puzzle you were trying to put together. Maybe the two of them had an attraction to girls struggling to get by.

“It’s not so bad, is it?” She asked and it made you pause.

Your instinct was to mirror her shrug, but you hesitated, wondering if you could trust her with your thoughts. If anyone could understand what you were going through, it had to be Eleanor. “I-I just ffff-ffeel like I’m doing everything wrong.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve only heard good things.”

“A-About me?” She nodded and your lips parted in shock.

“Yes. I know you feel uncertain right now, but I think you'll be glad if you can stick it out. Topper… he’s a bastard, but he takes care of me. Rafe likes you too. Maybe he doesn’t know how to show it, but…” She paused, her eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. “He’s filthy rich. That would be enough for me.”

In that moment, her brutal honesty felt almost like reassurance. You weren’t sure if Eleanor truly grasped the extent of Rafe’s inability to show affection, that his pleasure came from humiliating you, from making you cry. Just as you couldn’t fully know what she endured with Topper. Her words weren't necessarily comforting but at least they felt real.

Please reblog WITH your thoughts on the chapter to be added to the taglist for the story :)

#dark fic #well kept #rafe cameron #black!reader #rafe cameron x black!reader #outer banks smut #rafe cameron smut #rafe obx #rafe x reader #topper thornton #billionaire au #billionaire!rafe #ceo au

918 notes · View notes

hybridefiance · 2 years ago

Photo

Denver Fountain Landscape

#Design ideas for a large traditional full sun backyard stone landscaping. expansive pond #pond in backyard #large pond #sandstone bridge #masonry retaining walls #sandstone boulder water falls #rock water fall

0 notes

frantic-fiction · 9 months ago

Text

Beg 18+

Pic Credit: astarionposting

Astarion x F!reader

Summary: Astarion asks for more blood, you make him work for it.

Warnings/Tags: Smut MDNI, fingering, begging, slight overstimulation, sub!Astarion, switch!Astarion, Druid!Reader

Word Count: 3.8K

Masterlist

"There you are, darling,"

Astarion hovers above you as you sit cross-legged in the grass by your tent, his shadow blanketing you, blocking the sun's warmth. You hum in acknowledgment, but your focus is solely on your book. A delicate finger dangles in front of the vampire, who audibly scoffs but otherwise stays silent and waits, patiently observing.

You pick at the skin of your lips absentmindedly with your teeth as you flip the page. You can feel his eyes on you, taking every inch of your body in with his wandering gaze. Shifting in the grass, you continue to read, relishing the impatience dripping from Astarion, smirking when each flick of the page elicits a huff of annoyance from the vampire.

Once your chapter finishes, you mark your page and lean back on your hands to look up at the man with a quizzical arch to your brow. "How can I help you, Astarion?"

His annoyance melts like ice in the sun as a sultry smile stretches his lips. "Can I not simply want to see your enchantingly beautiful face?"

You snort, "You have barely spoken to me since the tiefling's party. So I'd say you want something." Standing, you brush off the dirt on your pants and move to store your book away.

"I have to!" Astarion balks, pressing a hand to his chest in a dramatic display. "Besides, we have been incredibly busy running all over the gods damn wilderness since you and everyone else seem to want to play the hero."

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest, a playful retort poised on your tongue. "I'm terribly sorry that some of us have morals and a conscience," you tease, your gaze meeting him with a mixture of challenge and amusement.

"Oh, I have morals, my sweet," Astarion purrs, leaning into your space, his breath chilly against your skin. "however, mine sway towards the more sinful side."

You suppress the shudder that trembles through your body. Astarion always has a way of reducing you to a mumbling, blushing mess with only a few salacious words. It's like he holds the key to pulling you apart and leaving you consumed by him, and he knows it, too. But you're not giving in that easily. There's something he wants. You can see it in his eyes, and he's not going to get it without working for it.

Putting your hand up, you interrupt his following flirty remark. "Did you want something? Or are you just here to interrupt my free time?"

Astarion looks at you in shock, mouth open to speak, but no words seem to want to flow. His eyebrows furrowed, and a smirk stretched his lips. Leaning on one hip, Astarion flicks out his hand, idly looking at his nails.

"Yes, actually, I have a list. Coin, sex, blood, revenge," Astarion counts on his fingers, his tone dripping with amusement. "Certainly not in that order, and I could go on, but what I came here for specifically is something that might be better…" Astarion looks around the camp, taking mind of everyone. "Discussed in private."

Having a hunch on where this would lead, you stifle a laugh, a plan forming in your head. "Then lead the way." You motion for him to walk, smiling brightly at the vampire.

Astarion nods smugly, obviously feeling like his plan was going just as he attended. He escorts the two of you past the others' tents and deep into the woods. Your hunch seems more viable as the brush becomes thicker and the symphony of nature's melody replaces the still air.

After a few minutes of walking in relative silence, the two of you break into a small clearing. Its grass has spatters of bright patches of wildflowers, and the colors of oranges, pinks, and blues contrast against the expanse of green. There's a small pond on the far side, and cattails and pond reeds sway in the winds. A deer is grazing the water, but sensing Astarion as a predator; it quickly retreats to the woods.

Paying more attention to the scenery, you had yet to notice Astarion stop mid-step and swing on his heel. You stumble slightly into his chest. "I believe this spot will do nicely," he declares smugly as you step back.

Taking a step back, you quickly recover, "And why are we here exactly, Astarion? I was quite enjoying my book."

For a moment, uncertainty flickers across Astarion's features before swiftly being concealed behind a facade of confidence and a devilish smile. Turning away from you, he strides further into the small alcove.

"Are you so eager to escape my company, my dear?" he counters playfully, eyes scanning the clearing. "I thought you would like this little spot. I had no idea how beautiful the woods could be."

"You're stalling," you accuse.

"Am not!" Astarion's voice echoes against the canopy.

Folding your arms over your chest, you give Astarion a pointed look.

The vampire sighs deeply, shoulders slumping. "Gods, this is embarrassing," Astarion mumbles under his breath so low you barely catch it. He combs a hand through his tousled curls, not bothering to turn back to face you. "Fine, yes, you see… I'm hungry, darling. Starving, actually."

Of course, the prick ignores you for almost a week to ask you for a bite. After what he did, he thinks he can call on you like his personal snack pack. Oh no, he's going to have to do better than that.

"Then hunt." You smirk, "Or did you need me to ensnare something for you?"

"Excuse me! I am perfectly capable of hunting!" Astarion snaps his head back and storms toward you. "It's these bloody woods; there's barely any fauna in the cursed thing."

His outburst has the surrounding animals scurrying, and before you can open your mouth to utter a mocking retort, Astarion grabs you by the waist and pulls you flush against his body. You yelped at the sudden force of his moments, your hand catching yourself on his chest.

"Don't make me say it," Astarion breathes against your ear, his hands trailing teasing paths down your sides.

"Astarion," you chuckle, feigning ignorance. "I don't understand what you're implying. If you want something, you'll need to say it."

Astarion nuzzles against your neck with a groan of frustration, his lips brushing against your skin in a maddeningly gentle caress. "Darling, may I have a taste?" He murmurs, the scrape of his fangs against your flesh nearly causing you to relent. "I'm famished, and your blood… Gods, it's intoxicating. I promise to make it just as pleasurable for you."

How easy it would be to say yes. Let him take what he wants and wait for the next time he wants something from you. But you weren't his little chew toy, just waiting for whenever he deems you worthy enough for attention. No, he needs to learn.

"Beg." You demand, twirling out of his grasp and pushing him away gently.

"What?" Astarion pauses, disbelief written across his face as if he misheard you.

"Beg." You repeat, your words slipping from your lips mockingly slowly.

"Are you serious?"

You meet his gaze with unwavering resolve, waiting for him to comply. As realization dawns, Astarion's expression shifts to amusement.

"Joking doesn't suit you, dear," he scoffs, his laughter echoing through the clearing.

Silent and persistent, you hold his gaze, a smirk playing at the corner of your lips. His eyes drift to the faint scar beneath your chin, a silent reminder. Wetting his lips, Astarion clears his throat before looking at you, clearly trying to grapple for the upper hand.

"Must we really play this song and dance?" He asks.

"If you want my blood, this is how you'll get it."

You hold firm, with your arms crossed over your chest. Astarion stares at you as if seeing you for the first time, and a mix of emotions storms behind his eyes. His body seems to deflate, coming to terms with the fact that you won't back down. Licking his lips, Astarion swallows hard and opens his mouth to speak.

"Darling," he murmurs through gritted teeth, his posture betraying his inner turmoil. "Allow me a taste of your exquisite blood. I'm starving and beg for your mercy."

"On your knees," you command softly, relishing the power that surges between you. "And I want a please this time."

Astarion looks at you with wide eyes. "Must I degrade myself further?" The anticipation in his voice betrays his reluctance to give in to you. "You've already gotten what you've wanted."

Biting your lip, you step closer and delicately cup his jaw, your touch gentle but commanding, and bring Astarion's lips tantalizingly close to yours. "I'll let you have your fill of my blood and more if you want. But only if you're a good boy and listen." Astarion breath leaves his lungs in a shuddering gasp, all fight seeping from his body.

"You are a cruel woman."

With a resigned sigh, Astarion sinks to his knees. His silver curls reflect the golden light filtering through the forest canopy. His back is pin straight, and his neck is arched up to look at you with his deep crimson eyes. You can't help but focus on the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallows again.

"I beg, please allow me the privilege to taste your tantalizing blood," he starts, but you zone out the rest of his words, focusing more on Astarion himself.

You focused on how his shirt hugs his chest, the cotton straining in some places while loose in others. You noticed how blue his veins are, just under his pale skin. You see how his pants seemed tight in the front, something stiff straining against the thick fabric.

Wait. Oh. Now that is interesting.

You pounce before you can think things through, mind moving more on instinct than anything else. Astarion's plea for you is replaced with a yelp as you push him on his back and straddle his lap.

"Wh-what are you?" he stutters before letting out a pathetic moan he will most certainly deny later.

You capture his mouth in a heated kiss. Your tongue runs over the seam of his lips, and when Astarion allows you access, you lick into his mouth. Your tongues twirl in a practiced dance as you deepen the kiss. Astarion groans into your mouth. A hand moves up to cup your head, fingers combing through your hair.

"Astarion," you purr breathlessly, rolling your front against the vampire's growing bulge. You press your body closer against his, practically willing yourself to melt into him. "Did begging for me get you all excited?"

"Excuse you? No! Don't be ridiculous," he tries to deny but fails when another moan rakes through his chest with another turn of your hips.

"Look at you, all hard and needy." You lick up the column of his throat, stopping to playfully bite at his ear before whispering. "Do you like being my good boy, Astarion?"

"Shit! You're being ridiculous," Astarion pants, his hand tightening on your hips to cease your ministrations. "You're rubbing against me like a desperate virgin. Any man would get aroused."

Humming calmly, you sit back on your haunches and remove your shirt, tossing the garment into the bushes. Astarion's eyes immediately wander your exposed skin, drinking in the sight of your body. You take your bra off and trail your fingers over your nipples. Astarion lets out a pitiful groan.

"That's disappointing," you pout out your lip, trying to conceal a smile. "I was going to reward you for being so good."

"Darling, I think this is reward enough, so long as we end this with my teeth in your pretty neck."

"That's good to know," you chuckle, trailing a hand down the valley of your breast and over the planes of your stomach, stopping just shy of your waistband. "I'll enjoy this reward for both of us.

Astarion's brows scrunch slightly in confusion before zeroing in on your hand as you teasingly slip under the waistband of your pants and past your folds. Sighing softly, you begin to tease your clit with the pad of your finger, staring down at Astarion, who looks as if he might just have an aneurysm.

He cools his features with a smug smirk, idly trailing his hand up your side. "A show and then dinner? My dear, you're not as good at this teasing as you think, but I admire your effort."

One of Astarion's icy hands works up to your side, leaving goosebumps in its wake. The other grips your hip and begins to rock you against his stiff erection. You involuntarily gasp at the friction, allowing the vampire a moment of control.

Astarion ruts against you, letting out a grunt when you grind down with equal enthusiasm. Then suddenly, Astarion's hands are ripped from your body and pinned to the ground as you rise further, removing any contact between the two of you.

"What?" Astarion exclaims before looking to the side. Little vines sprout from the ground, binding his hands to the hard earth. "Gods, you wretched thing."

Clicking your tongue, you grin wickedly down at the trapped man. "Only good boys get to touch."

"Darling, must we continue this?" Astarion groans in frustration, tugging at your vines, annoyed when they don't give. "We both want this. You're the one making things difficult."

"Maybe, but only because I love hearing you beg for me. Now, unless you're going to give me what I want." You resume your ministrations, moaning as you dip a finger into your neglected hole. "Keep quiet,"

"At least remove your trousers!"

"Don't make me gag that pretty mouth of yours, Astarion."

Astarion fumes from underneath you, but you can see the cracks forming, the dilated pupils, the rapidly falling chest as he pants for breath he doesn't need, and the way he tugs against his bindings even though he knows nothing will give. You know he'll break. He already did once he had a bit more incentive.

Adding another finger, you start to pump in and out of your dripping cunt; an audible squelching noise can be heard with each dip of your hand. You moan, dropping your head back. Circling your puffy clit with your thumb, you rock against your hand, your other one snaking up your body to tease your breast.

"Astarion," you breathe out, smirking when you hear the man's frustrated groan. "Gods, I'm so wet, making a mess, squeezing my fingers so tight."

"You are killing me all over again, sweetheart," Astarion cries; his hips are desperately trying to move against you, but another vine wraps around his stomach, holding him down.

"Just say the word's Star," you say, pinching your nipple and rolling it between your fingers. A whine rips from your throat when you curl your fingers up and hit that spongy spot, which has a familiar burning sensation that starts coiling in your gut. "Fuck, say the words, and it could be you making me feel this good. Won't you be my good boy?"

"Gods," He bites back another moan, slamming his head in the dirt.

"I'm so close," you whimper, moving your thumb faster against your clit. "Just imagine it could have been your cock I'm clenching around, not my fingers. Could have been you that's making a mess of me." Looking down, you see Astarion all flustered, mouth agape, and hair a mess of frizzy curls, his whole body practically buzzing with need. It was enough to send you over the edge cumming around your fingers with a choked sob.

This finally broke the man. "Fine, okay! Please, please let me go!" Astarion pleads, voice ragged and needy. "Just let me touch you. I'll do anything you want, please. Gods, please, please, please!"

Suddenly, the vines vanish, and your lips are again on his. Astarion's pleas muffle against your mouth and quickly morph into a satisfied grunt when he bites his lip. Now that he's finally free, Astarion's quick to roll the two of you and pin you against the cold earth. Nestled between your thighs, Astarion starts mindlessly tearing at his clothes, his mouth trailing sloppy open-mouth kisses down your neck and to your chest.

"You are an evil woman." Astarion murmurs against the skin between your breasts. Slipping one of your nipples into his mouth, he begins to suck, and you gasp, arching your back into him.

"Astarion, fuck!"

A hand curls into his hair, your nails raking against his scalp, causing him to hum against your chest, sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine. You feel his hands move to your pants, tugging them down your hips, dragging your drenched underwear with them.

A cold finger trails through your warm cunt, and you shiver at the feeling. "I must admit, darling, I quite like it when you take charge, but," His voice rumbles against your skin, and you whine at the feeling of his fangs teasing your swollen nipple. "My patience has grown thin, so if it's okay with you, your good boy will take his reward now." His finger teases your entrance, barely dipping in.

You clench, choking on the gasp that bubbles up your throats. "Yes! Gods, please fuck me!"

Astarion cups the back of your head and kisses you deeply. Feeling his hard cock swipe through your cunt, your gasp into his mouth, your hand coming up to hold his face. He presses into you, and you pull away from his lips, moaning at the stretch of his cock, filling you to the brim. Astarion peppers feather light kisses over your face and neck as he bottoms out and waits for you to nudge him to continue.

Throwing one of your legs over his shoulder, Astarion pulls out almost entirely before impaling you again and sets a steady pace. A pace has your toes curling and you feeling breathless with each delicious drag of his cock against your walls. You don't think you'll get over the feeling of Astarion inside you, feeling the ridges rub against you in all the perfect ways as if he has the only manual to tear you apart with mind-numbing pleasure.

"Ugh-Always so tight," he grunts into your neck, "So perfect, just for me."

"Astarion!" You dig your nails into his shoulders and buck against each of his thrusts. "Faster, please!"

Astarion picks up the pace; your collective sounds of pleasure mingle together in the air, and the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes around the clearing. Astarion's forehead drops against yours, and both of your noses brush against each other as he breathes in every whimper and moan of ecstasy you give him with each drag of his cock against your walls. Snaking a hand between your conjoined bodies, his nimble fingers swirl around your clit in time with each grind of his hips.

Another moan rolls off your tongue, and soon, that warmth blossoms once again in the pit of your stomach. "D-don't stop," you plead, hands running up his chest to wrap around his shoulder. "M' close."

Astarion nuzzles at your neck and inhales your scent, groaning at a particularly tight squeeze of your cunt. Even after all the begging and pleading you put him through, he still silently asks before he takes a bite. The thought warms your heart and is something you'll have to reflect on later.

"Yes! Please, bite me!" You whimper, clutching the back of his neck and pressing him close.

The sharp sting of ice pierces your neck, and you cry out against the pain. Astarion pays special attention to your clit, applying pressure and dragging his thumb around the swollen bud, his way of helping you through the initial sting. After a moment, the pain resides in mind-numbing pleasure, and soon, everything becomes too much.

Astarion consumes you. His hand caressing your body, his mouth lavishing your neck, his cock hitting you perfectly in spots only he seems to know how to reach. It's all too much, and soon tears prick at your eyes, and the heat in your lower stomach bursts, draining lava into your veins. Your nails dig into the flesh of Astarion's shoulders as you scream out his name, body spasming around the pleasure that courses through your body.

This seems to be enough to push Astarion over the edge with you. Still drinking mouthfuls of your blood, Astarion is rutting into you, grinding your pelvis against the solid earth. His moans hum against your skin, and his thrust becomes sloppy before a rush of heat gushes inside you as Astarion cums.

With a few more gulps of blood and a few more thrusts of his hips, you whimper with overstimulation. Astarion removes his mouth from your body, licking any stray droplets. He rolls onto his back, dragging you with him until your head is lying on his chest. You whine at the loss of fullness, cringing at the feeling of your combined release that begins to drip down your legs.

"That was…" Astarion trails off, seeming to be at a loss for words.

"Way better than the tiefling party." You mumble against his chest, smirking at the snort he makes.

"Yes, I would be inclined to agree."

"So you admit it," you tease, trailing your thumb over Astarion's nipple. "You liked begging for me."

"I wouldn't… mind if you took charge again," Astarion says, skirting around your claim.

"Whatever protects your ego." You tilt your head up. "Hey, Star?"

Astarion hums in acknowledgment, but his eyes are closed, his body seeping into a comfortable stillness. You note something he didn't allow himself to do at the party. Reaching your hand up, you run your fingers along his jaw, coaxing his eyes open.

"Next time, don't ignore me for a week to ask for my blood. I don't want you hungry. I care about you."

Astarion seems to freeze at your words as if he's never heard a caring word said to him. The thought alone makes you want to hunt this Cazador down and flay him for all of Baldur's gate to see.

Astarion opens his mouth to speak, but no words escape. He clears his throat and tries again. "Yes, that will certainly make things easier from now on."

The two of you lay there in silence, just enjoying the feeling of each other's skin against the other. Soon, when the sky turns to ombres of blues, pinks, and purples, you decide it's time to return to camp. Astarion is quiet for the journey back; an air of contemplation clings to his being. You don't push. Goodnights were said, and you parted ways, feeling like something had changed. Everything may have changed.

Heya, it's been crazy, but I finally got some time and energy to finish up this piece I've been working on for a while. I hope Astarion's not too out of character for as earlier of act one, I just liked the idea. I hope you all enjoyed, let me know what ya thought!

Taglist

@heartfully10 @ayselluna @marina-and-the-memes @anixson @canonicalchaoticneutral @toadsbitch @meulinkitten-blog @ambr4armr @lotusandcrystals @venussakura @synapticjive @skittleabyss @asterordinary @lariatbunny @whispering-depths @butchboi-chihuahua-slumlord @darkest-part-of-the-forest @queenofcarrotflowers-s @sessils @d20bunny@cherifrog@ophelia-ophelian @bgthree @darlingxdragon @mothynyx @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf @babyqnn @mmendez0124 @kokoyu-art @lilah-asteria

Want to be added to the taglist? DM me please!

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion #reader insert #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 #astarion smut #astarion fic #fanfic #astarion imagine

772 notes · View notes

mydearestbeloved · 2 months ago

Text

Chapter 12 [Draft]

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

CW:

Inspired by @circeyoru ‘s “Future Power Couple”

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

Jinwoo stood outside the quaint greenhouse-like shop, his eyes narrowing as he took in the sight before him. To anyone else, it appeared like an ordinary, if charming, flower shop nestled quietly in an inconspicuous part of the city. But he knew better. He knew that behind this innocent façade lay the entrance to your domain—one that he could only enter with your permission.

The last time he had brought up wanting to visit you on his own terms, you had told him bluntly: to access your domain, an outsider needed explicit permission each time from its master. For someone like him, who had grown accustomed to breaking into the dens of monsters and overcoming barriers, the thought of requiring an invitation had been oddly humbling. Yet, here he was, his hand reaching out to push open the glass door.

The moment his fingers touched the handle, the world around him seemed to ripple. The shop’s interior wavered like a mirage, Colors blurred together, softening at the edges, until he found himself no longer within the confines of the quaint flower shop but in the secluded tranquility of your garden.

The air was fresher, filled with the scent of flowers and damp earth, the sunlight softer than that of the real world. It really was a realm where time flowed differently.

He looked around, noting the serene clearing he now stood in. This wasn’t the formal entrance hall where he’d arrived before, flanked by towering columns and the majestic temple gate. No, this place was different—peaceful, secluded, as if it had been carefully hidden away within the vast expanse of your domain.

Only the floating fortress high above reminded him that he was indeed in the right place. He talked with you there before, in the gazebo surrounded by colorful structured blooms and ponds. Now that he viewed the grand fortress from below, its imposing structure casted shadows across the garden’s expanse like a protective embrace.

As he scanned the area, Jinwoo’s eyes fell on you a few paces away Butterflies danced around your figure as always, their luminescent wings like sparks against the backdrop of green foliage. You stood with your back to him, holding a bouquet of familiar red blooms— the vibrant scarlet of spider lilies unmistakable even from where he stood.

For a moment, Jinwoo froze, his mind flashing back to the vision he had been trying so hard to bury since before his descent into the Demon Castle. That vivid memory—you had held the exact same bouquet as this one. The warmth he had felt in that dream now surged back into his chest, leaving him almost breathless. But unlike the first time, he managed to suppress it quickly, clamping down on the surge of emotions before they could overwhelm him.

Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was witnessing something sacred. The air seemed to grow still, the butterflies lowering their flight as if in reverence. You knelt on the ground, your head bowed, the red blooms trembling in your grasp. Even the breeze seemed to hush in respect.

Jinwoo’s instincts screamed at him to remain silent. Whatever you were doing, it was not something he had any right to interrupt. He stood rooted to the spot, listening to the rustle of leaves and the distant call of birds that filled the garden’s serene ambiance, observing as a soft breeze rustled through the garden, lifting strands of your hair as if to underscore the quiet stillness.

Eventually, you rose, whispering something under your breath, the words too soft to carry to him, before turning to face him directly. Meeting his gaze with an unreadable expression, there was no surprise in your eyes, no shock at his sudden presence. The bouquet had vanished.

You walked toward him with the same calm, measured steps that seemed to define you. Jinwoo watched as you approached, your face betraying nothing. Deliberate or not, your form continued to obscure whatever had held your attention moments before. But as you brushed past him, gesturing for him to follow, he couldn't help himself—he turned his head to glance at where you had knelt.

There, nestled amidst the grass, stood a grave. The red flowers swayed in the wind like silent sentinels guarding a memory Jinwoo couldn’t fathom as he fell into steps behind you.

---

Back in the shop, he took a seat at one of the white, ornate garden chairs set up near a small round table, laden with a small assortment of snacks, pastries, and dried fruits. The sunlight streaming through the glass walls bathed the interior in a soft glow, illuminating the various blooms that lined the shelves. He knew it was all carefully cultivated, each element deliberate and intentional.

You were moving around the shop, adjusting the displays, tidying leaves and stems. “Will it be coffee as usual?” You asked, not turning around, though Jinwoo knew you could see him through the butterflies fluttering around the shop. They perched on pots and stems, their attention on him as much as on you. You continued tending to a nearby orchid with a practiced grace.

He gave a slight nod, and without missing a beat, you snapped your fingers. A dainty china set floated in from the back room. A coffee mug settling near him, while a matching teacup came to rest on the opposite side of the table. Hovering between, the teapot tilted on its own, pouring him a rich, dark brew before switching to fill the teacup with a lighter, fragrant blend.

Only once the teapot had finished its task did you finally joined him, your movements smooth and unhurried, sitting across the table with your own cup in hand. The delicate clink of porcelain as you took a sip seemed to signal the start of the conversation.

"I got my rank reevaluated today," Jinwoo began, breaking the silence.

"And?" You raised an eyebrow, your expression as inscrutable as ever.

Jinwoo filled you in on his meeting with Go Gunhee, and the offer the chairman had extended to him—one that he had declined. Jinwoo also mentioned his plans to join the Hunter Guild’s dungeon raid as part of the mining team to maintain his low profile.

Your expression was contemplative as you listened, taking small sips of your tea. As the original story went, Jinwoo wanted to see what an A-rank dungeon was like.

When he finished, he leaned back, studying your reaction.

“So,” he ventured, glancing around the verdant walls of your shop, “what rank would your garden be?”

You tilted your head thoughtfully. “I can’t say for certain. The system only gave me a brief description when I first claimed it, but I suppose it’s at least an S-rank.”

“Why not have your rank reevaluated, then?” he pressed.

There was a subtle shift in your expression.

"You have your reasons," you replied simply, "and I have mine."

And he could sense that this was as much as you would share with him for now.

Jinwoo’s reasons stemmed from a desire to level up, to get stronger through battles and continuous improvement. For you, though, reevaluation would serve no purpose—your goals, your motivations, lay elsewhere.

You kept your rank low not only to remain unremarkable but also to avoid deviating from the original plot. Fame and scrutiny were the last things you wanted, especially with the system’s influence ever present in your life. You would be harder to find, able to move without attracting attention. Plus, you can no longer level up, so as far as you know, your growth rate now was the same as any other normal hunter, so little change that it might as well be stagnant.

The conversation shifted into a more casual rhythm after that, with Jinwoo watching his shadows wander through your shop, their curiosity almost childlike as they inspected the blooms. The sight was oddly endearing—the way they reached out to touch petals with surprising gentleness, as though afraid they might crush the delicate flowers. Your butterflies mingled, guiding them among the plants.

They seemed at ease, and for a moment, so did he in this quiet corner of your world.

---

As the day wore on, the sky outside turned into a brilliant gradient of gold, red, and purple. You escorted Jinwoo to the shop’s entrance. Just as he reached for the handle—

“Wait,” Cupping your hands together, magic swirled between your fingers. In moments, a bouquet materialized—sunflowers, daisies, and lavender, their colors vivid yet easy on the eyes.

“Here,” You extended the flowers to him. “For your mother.”

Jinwoo stared at the bouquet, a mix of emotions flickering across his face. When he didn’t immediately take it, you tightened your grip, determined not to let your nerves show.

“I know you still don’t fully trust me,” you began softly, letting a touch of understanding creep into your voice. “And I know you’re aware that I’ve been keeping an eye on you.” Your butterflies floated into his line of sight, hovering near your shoulder as if in silent affirmation. “But know this—I respect your privacy more than you realize.”

Jinwoo remained silent, eyes flickering with something you didn’t really recognize.

“These flowers are enchanted to absorb harmful mana.” You explained. “I’ll call back the butterfly stationed with Mrs. Sung. As that child of mine has been stabilizing her condition, these flowers will suffice in their place.” When he still didn’t move to take the bouquet, you nudged it toward him again. “I’ll still check on her occasionally, but only as needed.”

For a moment, you thought he might reject the gift altogether, but just as your hands began to falter, he reached out and took the bouquet. You noticed the slight flinch when his fingers briefly brushed against yours, though his expression remained steady.

“I’ll trust you,” Jinwoo said at last, his voice low. “At least on this matter.” He glanced down at the bouquet before letting a faint smirk lift the corner of his mouth. “If you truly meant harm, you wouldn’t have gone out of your way to help us as you did.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, and though you kept your face neutral, a small, genuine smile slipped through. “Then I’m glad I managed to convey that.”

Jinwoo took one last look around before stepping out.

“Thank you.” The words were spoken quietly, but they lingered in the air even after he disappeared into the evening. The glass door closed behind him with a final chime, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

This upcoming A-rank dungeon would be the first time he would encounter her—the one destined to become the light in his life.

A bittersweet feeling welled up within you, but before you could dwell on it too much, the bells rang again. You looked up to see a familiar head of blond hair peek through. Warm gray eyes lighting up as they found you, a radiant smile bloomed on the young woman’s face.

“(Name)!”

You returned the smile with a small one of your own as you greeted her. For a fleeting moment, your thoughts returned to Jinwoo and the future. But for now, you pushed them aside, focusing instead on the bright presence before you.

---

Jinwoo still wasn’t sure if putting his faith in you was the right decision.

He lay sprawled on his bed, the dim evening light casting long shadows across the walls of his room. He stared blankly at the ceiling, replaying the events of the day over and over in his mind.

The bouquet you had given him for his mother rested in a vase beside her hospital bed, the sunflowers, daisies, and lavender softly illuminated by the fading sunset through the hospital window. Jinwoo had stayed there a while after leaving you, watching his mother’s peaceful, sleeping form while the scent of the flowers filled the room.

The moment Jinwoo stepped into the room, the flowers’ scent seemed to amplify—not enough to cause discomfort, but definitely more pronounced than the previous subtle fragrance—and his mother’s complexion seemed to relax as well.

So, instead of the usual glow, you settled for more natural scent, and for the enchantment to be activated, it needed to be near its intended target—was that how you make it? It was so like you after all, to blend in and to take precaution of every possibility you could think of in that head of yours. To avoid falling into the wrong hands, for example, was just one out of many.

Now, with his body back home but his thoughts far away, he couldn’t shake the sense of disquiet that lingered in the back of his mind.

Trust. It was such a simple word, yet for him, it carried the weight of the world. Could he really trust you?

You were the first to extend trust between the two of you, back in that dungeon—a place where trust could so easily become a knife in the back. And yet, there you were, you had turned to him with those steady eyes, yet there was an openness that unnerved him. You extended not just your hand, but a fatal piece of yourself, to him.

That moment, he couldn’t help but wonder: were you reckless? No, he knew better. You were meticulous, thoughtful. Jinwoo had watched you from the corner of his eye in battle after battle, always noting how you seemed to be five steps ahead, anticipating threats and countering them effortlessly. Then, were you a fool? No, he knew that wasn’t it either. You were calculating, careful in every word and movement.

But then why, despite all that caution, why would you dare to show him your vulnerabilities? To expose your powers’ weakness on a silver platter unasked, practically inviting him to take advantage of it, if he were even the slightest bit more cruel?

Jinwoo was certain he didn’t know you. But you know him, maybe even deeper than he knew himself. Was that why?

He would’ve found it more believable if the system forced you into helping him. But it was made clear to him, multiple times, that it wasn’t like so. In fact, Jinwoo was almost positive that you couldn’t accompany him on certain raids because the system forbade you. And yet, you still found ways to assist him then.

Standing amidst the crumbling remnants of the stone golem, Jinwoo hadn’t known what to say. Back then, he chose the easiest, cowardly response—to stay silent. And it left the most bitter taste in his mouth.

His mind drifted further back, to when he was nothing but a pitiful E-rank Hunter struggling just to keep his head above water. You had been his lifeline, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

At first, he’d been suspicious—who wouldn’t be? Free meals delivered to his doorstep when he came home to Jinah’s worried face, mysterious donations that kept his mother’s hospital bills paid up to date when he was barely scraping by. The mysterious gifts that had arrived just when he needed them—medicines for his wounds, mana crystals and essence stones that he could still sell for decent cash, and the likes.

He had never seen you then, had only felt the faintest hint of a presence, like a shadow slipping away whenever he turned to catch it.

Those days had been hell. Waking up after collapsing in some remote corner of a godforsaken dungeon, healed but drained, with no one around. The bruises and cuts were always just nearly healed, and his exhaustion remained—a reminder that he had survived another day, but only barely. Living another day for his family had always been a relief, but there had always been the haunting possibility that the next close call might not have such a reprieve.

He hated it. Hated how he needed those mysterious interventions just to keep going. Hated the helplessness that came with relying on someone he couldn’t even see, let alone repay.

Yet at the same time… he had clung to that help like a drowning man grasping at a lifeline. those half-healed wounds and last-minute rescues—there must be a catch, there was always a price to pay, nothing in this world came for free—he just hadn’t known when it would come due.

But what choice had he had? He had been desperate. And in that desperation, he’d entertained the belief that perhaps, somewhere in the world, someone truly cared, selflessly, in a way that was almost painfully idealistic, for the hellish reality of the world that had beaten him down for his rank and lack of prospects.

After gaining the system, though, his outlook shifted as quickly as his strength grew. The mysterious aid in his mother’s hospital bills continued to arrive in his absence, and when he was caught up in instant dungeons, Jinah often remarked on the meals that still showed up during his long periods away. The quiet assistance seemed to have no end, no apparent agenda, and while it never fully left his thoughts, it had faded to the background of his life.

When he no longer needed to rely on invisible help to survive, it was at that moment that the heals disappeared. Jinwoo had chalked it up then that it was because he was often in dungeons managed by the system, where no ordinary hunter or person could get in. Could you believe he was foolish enough to believe that? That his mysterious benefactor was normal in any way?

When he’d finally agreed to Jinho’s deal, and as he grew wealthier through his own efforts, the donations, gifts, and meals followed the same pattern, and he was once again left without a single clue to its source.

There had been a strange feeling at the time, one he hadn’t wanted to admit to himself. Abandoned? No, the word felt too raw, too vulnerable. Yet, somewhere beneath his rising success, the newfound self-reliance, there was a sliver of emptiness he couldn’t quite ignore.

Something else had changed. The system itself had started acting strangely. Messages would pop up on his interface, unbidden and unsanctioned by the typical quest or informative-game-like format.

["Don't rely solely on brute force. Sometimes, retreat is necessary for a better strategy."] ["Focus on the core of the mana flow. It's not about quantity but control."]

Words of advice, encouragement, and strange observations—those cryptic phrases were always enclosed in quotation marks. And they were always signed, ‘by Trial Player [][][][].”

The blocked name, abrupt nature of the messages, it felt as if the system was glitching, borrowing someone else’s thoughts and slipping them into his notifications.

And this started happening right after all the mysterious aid ceased?

Jinwoo knew better than to believe in coincidences.

When he had finally met you in person, there was a strange déjà vu he couldn't shake. Tt was like piecing together the final fragments of a puzzle he hadn’t known he was solving, and also opening a new puzzle box altogether. Your presence was familiar, the system’s peculiar greeting had been a dead giveaway. And from that moment, Jinwoo zeroed in on you, observing your every move, waiting for you to slip up and reveal your true intentions.

Yet, if there was a hidden agenda behind your actions, it was buried deep beneath layers of genuine care. Whether it was out of obligation or something else entirely, Jinwoo had the sneaking suspicion that you would stay by his side, just as you had done when he was at his weakest, whether he wanted you to or not.

Now, sitting in the stillness of his room, Jinwoo pulled up his inventory and scrolled to the bottom, where a simple, broken set of daggers lay nestled among his spoils of war. He summoned them into his hands, the cold metal resting heavily against his skin. They were worn, chipped, and the blade edges dulled to uselessness, but they held an unmistakable sense of familiarity.

These daggers had been indispensable to him in his early days, in part because of their quality, durable beyond anything he could afford at the time, but also because the grip had fit so naturally in his hands, as if they had been forged with him in mind. And he now knew they were your creation.

Indeed, they had served him well until they finally gave out during one raid with Jinho—more from overuse than any fault in their craftsmanship. Jinwoo couldn’t bring himself to throw them away

The “Ordinary Daggers” the system had given no special description when he had saved them in his inventory for the first time.

He ran his thumb over the broken hilt, tracing the tiny, delicate butterfly engraving hidden along its base. A small detail he had noticed early on, but not knowing of its meaning until after meeting you. They were a symbol of your aid when he had nothing to offer in return.

But you had never once asked for repayment. Aside from confirming his suspicions the first time you meet, where Jinwoo basically cornered you to answer, you never brought it up after, never tried to use them as leverage against him. It made him wonder if he was the one overthinking things. Maybe, just maybe, your kindness wasn’t some elaborate trap.

The room was dimly lit, the only sound the faint hum of the city outside his window. As he sat there, the weight of the daggers in his hand was oddly comforting.

Jinwoo frowned. Trust was still a murky territory between the two of you, a minefield he wasn’t eager to tread, but one thing was clear: he was no longer the weak E-rank who had to take whatever scraps he could get. He was stronger now, strong enough to protect what was dear to him and pay back his debts, even if the other party didn’t expect it.

What could he possibly do to repay you though? Protecting you during their raids hardly felt like compensation. After all, he had been the one who insisted that you accompany him, and you had proven time and time again that you were more than capable of holding your own. In fact, more often than not, it was you who had subtly safeguarded him, providing support when he least expected it.

The spoils you collected from the raids might have been a form of compensation, but even then, it didn’t feel like enough—not to him. It felt unfair when he knew you only took what he didn’t need. Hell, you even asked for his permission. Every. Single. Damm. Time. The fact that you didn’t gain exp made it even worse.

Buying you something expensive would feel insincere. Jewelry? Clothes? Those options didn’t fit you and you weren’t the type to flaunt such things, even if you always dressed with a quiet elegance. You were far too practical for those trinkets, and besides, your craftsmanship far exceeded anything money could buy.

The thought of giving you flowers briefly crossed his mind, but he dismissed it just as quickly, scoffing. What use would a florist have for more flowers? Especially one who tended to an entire magical garden filled with blooms far beyond what Earth could offer.

But there was one thing he could offer, simple yet, something that might carry more meaning than any gift. The meals you had sent to him and Jinah, the home-cooked dishes that had warmed not just their stomachs but their hearts. You had cooked for him, even when he was a stranger. Maybe now it was his turn.

He had learned to cook well enough, decent, at least. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a good plan.

Jinwoo slipped the broken daggers back into his inventory, as a slow, determined smile spread across his lips, his heart beat just a bit faster at the thought.

A meal prepared with his own hands. Not out of obligation, but as a gesture of gratitude. It would be something small, with a personal touch—something that couldn’t be bought or forced. It would be his way of saying thank you for all the times you had been there, even when he had never asked.

Now all he needed was the right moment to invite you. He couldn’t just casually bring it up during a raid; that would be absurd. No, it had to be… thoughtful.

Yes, that was it. Dinner, at his place.

A quiet evening where he could actually get to know you, the you outside the chaos of battle at least. And maybe, just maybe, over a shared meal, he could start to understand you better. The person who had saved him time and time again, yet expected nothing in return. And who knows? Perhaps, in the warmth of a shared meal, he would finally learn to trust you.

Because as much as he hated to admit it, he wanted to. More than anything.

End Note:

Unfinished Draft of [10/11/2024] -

What do you guys think of Jinwoo's p.o.v. in this chapter?

Does the development feel too rushed? Abrupt? Too OOC, maybe? Or is it just right? Maybe needs some more details in the current, previous, and or future chapters' drafts? Any constructive feedbacks are always appreciated :)

Happy reading, Everyone! <3

#solo leveling imagine #solo leveling #only i level up #solo leveling x reader #sung jin woo x reader #sung jinwoo x reader #sung jinwoo #yandere sung jinwoo #solo leveling jinwoo #sung jin woo #jinwoo sung x reader #solo leveling fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #fem reader #x reader #reader insert

206 notes · View notes