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lovelybluebirdie · 8 months

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What is yours

Astarion x gn!Reader

Summary: A stroll through the market evokes an unpleasant sensation in Astarion.

Word Count: 3,1k

hurt/comfort, jealousy, fluff

[ AO3 ]

The warm rays of the midday sun bathed the markets’ goods in a marvellous light. The place was bustling, a scent of spices lingering in the air and hurried voices brimming.

If someone had told Astarion that one day he’d be able to move around Baldur’s Gate so freely again, he’d probably huffed merely a dry laugh – and yet here he was, following you through the narrow streets of his city, admiring how much colour the world had to offer.

Of course it was you who had dragged him along for the mundane task to gather some food for your companions back at camp. Astarion couldn't care less to fill up their bellies, as his own appetite was perfectly stilled from your generosity when it came to offer him your blood, but one blink from your doe eyes had been enough to convince him to accompany you.

Well, that, and perhaps that warm feeling that refused to leave his chest when he was with you.

It was obvious that you loved to stroll around the market, savouring the colourful impressions while taking a break from all the fighting and gore your journey to rid yourself from the tadpoles held for you.

Astarion had never watched you spending your coin so lightly before. You probably thought it was time to treat yourself once in a while, and who was he to deny you this little pleasure? He had to admit that he actually adored seeing your face light up over the different trinkets you bought, eagerly filling your bags and pouches with your newest additions.

“Let's get some fruit for the others while we’re at it,” you suggested, pointing towards a merchant presenting an inviting range of fresh goods. “Something nutritious seems much needed after we fed mostly on leftovers for the past weeks.”

Your shoulders were loaded with the various goods you had already bought – dyes, herbs, some new toys for Scratch and the owlbear cub and a bunch of flasks to fill with potions.

“As you wish,” Astarion replied, when a display of weapons caught his eye. His last pair of daggers had become rather blunt from the Goblin throats he’d cut, so maybe it was time to treat himself as well, he thought and gently grabbed your wrist.

“On second thought, why don't you go ahead while I'll have another look around here, my love?” he asked and came to a stop. “I haven't much expertise to add when it comes to your culinary needs, and those daggers look rather appealing.”

“Sounds fine with me, but try not to spend all of our gold at once,” you teased and squeezed his shoulder.

“Hah, you're one to talk. Please remind me, who was it again that just bought five new toys for Scratch, so he had a set of different colours to choose from?”

“He needs some variety,” you muttered, trying to keep up a serious expression. “But nevermind, see you in a minute then.”

You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and waved, already on your way to spend some more of your coin.

Astarion couldn’t help but smile over your excitement for the market, before he picked up a dagger from the display in front of him. The handle appeared to be of higher quality than his current ones, and the blade looked sharp enough to inflict some hurt.

As he gazed further through the wares, pondering which one would fit him best, he spared a glance to check on you.

He spotted you a few stalls away at the fruit stand you had mentioned. The vendor you were talking to gesticulated wildly while presenting his wares, leading you to laugh.

Astarion frowned and put the dagger away to take a closer look.

The vendor was young, an elf with blond curls, and Astarion noticed that he wasn’t an unpleasant sight.

He was immediately bothered by the smile you gave the other man, the way he touched your hands as he started to offer you bite-sized pieces of fruit to taste.

His fingers lingered too long against yours for Astarion’s liking.

As he continued to watch you from afar, something inside his belly started to seethe – hot and ugly.

A feeling he experienced before when it came to you, but couldn't quite grasp.

Well, whatever this was, Astarion certainly wasn’t jealous. Not of some random street vendor at least – and why should he be? Because you had smiled so sweetly at him? Or because you were laughing again as you took another piece of fruit from his filthy hands?

What in the nine hells could be so entertaining about buying fruit anyway?

It was ridiculous, really, and yet Astarion imagined how it would feel to rip the vendor's throat as punishment for daring to touch you.

Would he bleed out quickly? Would he scream?

Astarion shook his head, shoving the violent image aside.

He remembered the previous occasions when that unpleasant burning inside his stomach had appeared. It was the moment Gale decided it was appropriate to show you his so-called magical weave, or the other day when Wyll proposed a dance to you. You had kindly rejected both of them, but Astarion was still not particularly impressed by their interest in you.

He knew what others would seek from you. Why they wanted you. For the same reasons he enjoyed being with you: your compassion, the kindness you spread. Your special talent to make him feel seen.

There was also your wit, the way you would crack a joke even in the most maddening situations, making him feel light. And not to mention, you were a beautiful vision if Astarion had ever seen one.

Of course there would be others who saw those qualities as well, aiming to claim you.

A sudden wave of anxiety flooded his mind, moulding an appaling image in his skull.

He wondered if one day you would prefer someone else over him.

Someone who would match your kindness – acting all selfless and heroic, indulging in activities he found little pleasure in.

Providing you with something Astarion might be unable to give you, ever, no matter how much he cared about you.

Hells, what if you were already seeking someone like that?

His stomach dropped.

The dreadful notion spread its relentless claws past his ribs, tearing holes in his dead heart.

Blood rushed to his ears.

Before he even realised, his feet were already dragging him towards you.

He needed to be close to you – doing anything to make this feeling stop.

When he arrived next to you, he placed a hand on the small of your back and grasped your tunic, a little tighter than he'd intended.

He tried his best to keep his composure.

“Are we all done here, my love?” he asked, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Oh, Astarion!” You smiled when you noticed him, unaware of his musings. Your pouch was filled to the brink with fresh fruits. “Yes, I guess that would be all.”

Astarion felt the need to pull you away, but before he came up with an excuse to leave immediately, the merchant was already addressing you again.

“Think about it, will you?” A smug grin plastered that man’s face as he spoke to you, casually bending over his counter.

Astarion gave you a confused look.

Think about what?

“Unfortunately there’s no time to join the tavern tonight, but thank you for the offer. Maybe next time,” you said amicably and packed up your wares.

What was that?

Astarion thought he must have misheard.

“What a shame. Perhaps you can give it a second thought.” The vendor was still beaming at you, before he turned to Astarion. “Your friend can come too, of course.”

“Oh, that sounds splendid. We will think about it, will we, darling?”

Astarion bit his tongue, swallowing the impulse to spit a cutting remark on top of his obvious sarcasm.

What in the nine hells was this mongrel thinking, inviting you to the tavern? And how he was speaking to him – as if he was some irrelevant bystander.

“Let's see what we can do,” you said politely, already on your way to move on. “Have a nice day. And thank you again.”

“You as well,” replied the salesman and waved.

Astarion gritted his teeth as he followed you through the busy alleyways, still processing what just happened.

The vendor's words appeared in his mind.

That man had obviously desired to fuck you, and wasn’t even trying to hide his advances.

How could he have dared.

Astarion regretted that he had acted so passive in that moment. Usually he wasn’t one to hesitate, always a sharp comment dancing on his tongue, and yet… the thought of losing you to someone else had shifted something in him, turning him small.

His fury grew.

Oh, how he would love to grab that despicable pig by his throat, banishing that filthy grin of his face. Making him bleed. But he knew that unlike him, you would gladly refrain from a public bloodbath, so he shoved away those violent fantasies, even if the fire continued to seeth in him – unpleasant and hot.

He tried to fathom what posed the worst about this whole ordeal: The way in which the man had aimed to claim you, or his fear that you enjoyed those cheap advances – possibly were fond of it even.

Astarion's mood couldn't have been more sour as you arrived at a secluded area, away from the markets bustling.

“Can you believe it? That seller insisted on giving me a discount,” you broke the silence and pointed proudly at the wares you had gathered. “And they say there are no kind people left in Baldur's Gate.”

And just as the words had left your throat, Astarion finally snapped.

“Is that so?” he hissed, baring his fangs. “How generous. What a nice, handsome gentleman he is, also inviting you to the tavern with him.” He spoke harsh – his tone cold and venomous.

You came to an abrupt stop, resting the groceries on the ground and fixating your gaze on his, a furrow between your eyebrows.

“What are you implying?” You sounded puzzled.

“Oh, don't act so naive, darling, you know what I'm implying. That man wanted to bed you, everyone could see it from the way he treated you. And by the laughs you offered him, you seemed to enjoy his attention as well, did you not? What a flirt you are.”

His accusations left a taste of ash in his mouth. Moments before his anger seemed directed at the man’s advances, and now his bottled-up wrath was boiling onto you.

The bewildered look on your face turned into something else, something sad, your eyes losing their shine. He sensed that he must’ve hurt you, and it tugged at his heartstrings.

“So, you’re jealous of that man, is that what this is about?”

“Me? Being jealous of some filthy street vendor?” Astarion scoffed, immediately falling back to his dramatics, gesticulating defensively with his hands. “Don't insult me, darling. I find it amusing that he thinks he can have you, and I didn’t fail to miss your interest in him,” he bit, almost choking on the dry chuckle that spilled from his lips.

“There was no interest from my side, other than purchasing some of his wares,” you explained. Then you opened your mouth again, sharply sucking air between your teeth, before your gaze softened. Your voice was calm, without spite or anger. “He recognized me, Astarion. From the article in the gazette. Slayer of the evil Ketheric Thorm and all that fuss. Does that ring a bell?”

Of course he remembered. It was him that had to sneak past those giant steel watchers back at the gazette’s building, convincing the magical press to print an article in your favour. An article that wouldn’t taint your reputation, unlike the one Gortash had commissioned to derogate you.

Astarion couldn’t deny that after the praising piece was published, you were indeed met with an unusual kindness from the people of Baldur's Gate.

“Well, how could I forget?” Astarion's face twisted. “But that doesn't mean he didn't have something else in mind with you. Some people certainly would love to bury their blade inside a true hero for once, I can imagine.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes. “Even if he did want to bed me, what does it matter?”

An icy grip twisted Astarion's chest. The image of you with someone else stung in his eyes, making him sick.

Before he could growl another reply, you rested your hand on his arm, catching his fuming. “Hey – look at me, you silly goose.”

Your tender touch was enough to quell the blazing flame in his belly.

You spoke so warmly to him. So... loving.

Astarion rested his eyes on you and was met with an affectionate smile that disarmed him completely.

“Astarion, don’t you realise that I couldn't care less if thousands of people felt the sudden need to bed me?”

He bit his cheek, remaining silent.

“You’re the only one I want, you jealous fool. No one else – not now, not ever, and certainly not some random street vendor that throws a discount at me because he thinks of me as some kind of hero.”

Astarion’s features involuntarily softened as he took in your words. The fury that was about to overwhelm him dissolved into a flutter, engulfing his chest, washing away the seething that hooked at his ribcage.

“Really?” Only one word left his mouth, before he cleared his throat. “I mean – I'm not surprised of course, as you seem to literally cling to my side these days.” A poor attempt to cover his insecurity, but the best he could muster.

“Really,” you assured and gently tapped on his temple, “I vow on the tadpole flooding inside our brains.” You chuckled as you rested your hands on the back of his neck and shifted closer to him.

“Well, but those might be gone someday,” Astarion mumbled.

“And even then, I will remain at your side. Only if you want me to, of course.”

Astarion didn’t have to think of his answer, the words spilling from his lips like a reflex.

“Yes, I would want that,” he whispered sincerely, his flamboyant mask crumbling. “Look, it's not that I don't trust you. It’s just… Well, I guess I'm used to losing what I hold dear. And the thought of losing you to someone else… I don’t know, apparently it woke something in me.”

He felt almost ashamed over his sudden lack of eloquence, being so raw with you, but there was a sense of relief in opening up. To his surprise, it was even more soothing than losing himself in violence.

You looked at him with affection and cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing over his skin. He closed his eyes and sunk against your palm.

“It's alright, Astarion, you don't have to explain. I promise you, you won’t lose me to someone else. As you said, I tend to cling to your side these days, and truth be told, I have no intention to stop.”

“I hope you won’t,” Astarion replied and took your hand in his to press a kiss to your fingertips. “But honestly, I have to apologise for doubting your intentions with me. With us.”

“I forgive you, lover,” you replied tenderly. “I didn't take you for the overly jealous type, though,” you added with a smirk.

Astarion offered you a wry smile. “Let's not dwell on it, shall we?”

Then he reached for your face, softly taking your chin between his thumb and index finger and rested his lips on your forehead, followed by a kiss to the tip of your nose.

You wrapped your arms around his waist to pull him into a close embrace. He could sense your heartbeat against his cold body, your pulse drumming in a comforting rhythm.

For a moment you were just holding each other, your head against his chest, Astarion relishing your warmth and kissing your hair. Your touch was relieving. Assuring.

You were with him, and had promised not to leave.

Your affirmations repeated in his mind: You wanted him. Only him alone.

This was all new territory and Astarion sensed it would take some time for him to fully adjust, yes, but right now… this was all he could wish for.

“Somehow I don't want to let go of you, little love,” he hummed to your ear.

“Then don't,” you breathed and kissed along his neck, brushing his bite marks with your lips, sending a shiver down his spine. A particularly sensible spot, but you were allowed to touch him there.

Gods, how deeply he had fallen for you.

Astarion drew you even closer and sighed, your hands grasping the fabric of his shirt.

When he gently peeled away from your hug, you looked up to him and bit your lip.

“Can I be completely honest with you?” you asked sheepishly.

“What is it, my sweet?”

“Well... I think that merchant truly wanted to bed me.”

Astarion laughed – deep, coming from his belly – surprised by his own lightness. The idea of fuming over your obvious admirer seemed almost ridiculous all of a sudden.

“I told you so. But now that you see it too, I guess you wouldn't mind if we turn back for a quick chat? I would love to take care of that dear fellow,” he replied mischievously. While his fury was gone, he still wouldn’t mind some misdemeanour.

“Astarion!” you scolded, but joined his laughter. “Please spare that innocent man.”

“Relax darling, I will. For now at least. And only because you asked so nicely.” His fangs poked from the grin that adorned his lips.

“Good boy,” you teased and brushed one of his white curls behind his ear, his grin widening from your touch.

As you walked back to camp, hands softly entwined, Astarion noticed that probably for the first time in his life someone truly belonged to him – willingly, out of love.

You belonged to him.

The thought grew in his chest, wandered up to his eyes, spreading affection through his entire body, and for the remaining way back to camp he didn’t let go of your hand.

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aemondsbabe · 5 months

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What is Owed

summary: the gold cloaks raid the brothel, you make a deal to secure your freedom

pairing: harwin strong x lyseni!reader x daemon targaryen

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, reader is briefly described as having lyseni features (pale hair, purple eyes) but no other physical descriptors are used, mentions of sex work, reader is a sex worker, breast/nipple play, dirty talk, double penetration, piv sex, anal sex, anal fingering, regular fingering, squirting, unprotected sex, double creampie oh jeez, oral (m receiving), handjobs, hands on necks, "whore" is used both as a pet name and degradingly we love innovation, big hulking men idk, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 7.7k

a/n: so sorry for being away! wasn't intentional, just busy with life things! but god i missed writing and i'm so happy to finally have this one done! daddies galore!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

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A barely concealed sigh of disgust leaves your lips, which remain pulled into a tight, docile smile as some lord, whose name you couldn’t be bothered to remember, finally finishes over your bare chest with a beastly grunt, his hips twitching as you stroke him through it.

Took his sweet time, you think as you rise to your feet and quickly grab one of the spare cloths stashed in the nearby vanity to wipe his spend from your chest. Depositing the cloth in a nearby basket, you take a moment to right your dress and run your fingers through your pale hair. Finally, you turn back around and eye the man still lying across the ornate chaise catching his breath.

You glance at his trousers, still haphazardly piled on the floor, before checking him once more, smirking when you see that his eyes are still closed. Carefully, you make your way over to his trousers and kneel once more as you grab for the heap of fabric; keeping your eyes on him, you swiftly rifle through the pockets and smile triumphantly as you pull a few coins from one – one golden dragon, three copper stars, and a half-penny.

Grinning, you toss the man’s trousers back onto the floor before quickly grabbing the small coin purse you keep tucked away beneath the chaise, way back toward the wall and covered by the ends of one of the red satin curtains that cover the windows of the brothel – the perfect hiding spot until you can move them to the more secure lock-box beneath your bed.

“Mmph,” the lord sighs, stirring finally just as you drop the last coin into your pouch. Shoving it back beneath the chaise, you quickly rise to your feet with a placid smile just as he finishes stretching.

“Some wine for you, my lord,” you smile, keeping your voice light and sweet in just the way the Madam likes as you offer him a goblet, “To replenish your strength.”

“Yes, yes,” the older man mumbles, paying you no mind as he busies himself with the buttons on his tunic, “Fetch me my trousers,” he commands, brushing you off with a wave of his hand.

“Of course, my lord,” you nod, teeth gritting as you set the goblet back down before grabbing his blasted trousers with an eye roll. He all but snatches them from you with a pompous little hum, not even looking in your direction. Once again behaving as the Madam demands, you merely stand by while he redresses, hands clasped demurely in front of you as you wait to be of service once again, or, hopefully, to kindly escort him to the door.

You don’t mind working in the brothel, not really, especially knowing that it could be much worse – you could’ve ended up as one of the many beggars that line the streets of Flea Bottom or, more dreadful still, stuck as a slave back home. It was luck, really, that brought you to the brothel in the first place, back when you were still stumbling half-blind with grief around the fish market by the docks only to be plucked up by chance by a few of the girls from the brothel. They’d brought you back here, promising that the Madam would take you in, that you’d earn great money with your exotic looks.

One of those things had been true – the Madam was very happy to take you in. Technically, you do also make great money… for the brothel; only a small percentage is ever paid back to the workers and, for your circumstances, that just won’t do. Which is precisely why you sometimes took a little tip for yourself, especially if your client for the evening was of higher status; it’s not as if they’d miss, or even notice, a few missing coins.

As far as you’re concerned, it’s a flawless system.

You’re brought out of your short reverie by another sigh from the lord as he polishes off the goblet of wine you’d offered some moments ago and once more, your lips quirk up into a pleasing smile, “Leaving so soon, my lord?”

“Mm,” he merely grumbles before flashing you a lecherous grin, his yellowed teeth making your stomach turn, “Worry not, girl, I’ll be back before the tournament’s over.”

“Wonderful,” you sigh, grimacing internally as you make a half-step toward the arched doorway, “I’ll see you out.” Blessedly, the lord makes no more of a fuss and lets you lead him to the entryway, sparing you one final nod before slipping down the dimly lit street.

You remain in the doorway for a moment more, arms crossed over your chest as you gaze outside, relishing the feel of the cool night air against your skin. After a moment, though, your eyes narrow when you realize the streets seem much quieter than usual. At this hour, there would normally be more people about – some returning from a long day of work, others already stumbling around drunk, but tonight there were only a few scattered people roaming about.

“Strange…,” you murmur to yourself, absentmindedly running a finger over the gold chain around your neck, your fingers brushing over the small key hanging from it. Sparing a glance up at the Dragonpit looming on the nearby hill, you finally close the door with a shrug. Returning to the room you’d serviced the lord in, you glance around quickly to make sure the coast is clear before you retrieve the small coin purse from beneath the chaise, smiling at the weight of it as you carry it swiftly back to your bed, to your little lockbox, wholly unaware of the envious gaze on your back.

“Commander on the floor!” One of the Gold Cloaks shouts as Daemon prowls into the hall, a self-righteous smirk on his lips as the drum of fists against chest plates ceases.

“When I took command of the Watch, you were stray mongrels,” he growls, dark violet eyes surveying the men around him, “Starving and undisciplined!”

He pauses for a second, heart pounding with the heady sensation of power as he prepares to do what his dear older brother cannot – punish. Too long have the streets of King’s Landing, of his city gone to the Seven Hells; controlled by crime and near-anarchy when they should be controlled by him, by the dread of his authority.

“Now, you’re a pack of hounds,” his voice rises as he speaks, as he breathes life into his men, “You’re sated and honed for the hunt!”

Howls erupt around the hall, making the prince’s lips stretch into a vicious grin – his men were ready, ready to rule with the iron fist Viserys lacked.

“My brother’s city has fallen into squalor!” He says, pacing down the room, “Crime of every breed has been allowed to thrive!”

His chainmail clinks with each of his heavy steps, pride swelling in his chest as many of the soldiers nod their heads along with him. It was true, after all, everyone knew it. Viserys may have the crown, the damned throne, but the dragonfire in his veins had run cold long ago. The blood in Daemon’s burns hot, however; centuries of power and glory fuel his fires, flowing through him like the lava in the Dragonmont.

“No longer,” he grunts, pausing at the end of the hall, the silken cloth draped over his shoulders shining in the light of the torches lining the room as he turns to eye his men, smirking at the blood lust evident on their faces, “Beginning tonight, King’s Landing will learn to fear the color gold!”

A loud bang wakes you sometime later and you sit up with a small gasp, clutching the linen bed sheets. Whipping your head around, you can see the dark night sky still looms heavily over the city through the slats in the window – you must’ve not been asleep very long.

Another cry from somewhere outside finally gets you moving and you quickly wrap yourself in an embroidered silk robe, tying it loosely around your waist as you move closer to the door, your ears perked at the sound of frantic whispers. Poking your head through the beaded curtain that separates the sleeping quarters from one of the hallways, you finally spot a familiar face in the dim candlelight.

“Genna!” You whisper, waving one of the other working girls over, “What’s going on, what’s happened?”

“Gold Cloaks!” She hisses, working quickly to stuff an armful of dresses into a small bag, “They’ve gone mad, they’re rounding up damn near everyone out there!”

“Gone mad?” You echo, brows pinching together as you look toward the entrance, another muffled cry from outside catching your attention, along with the sounds of metal clanging against metal.

Genna merely nods as she practically shoves past you to get into the room before quickly loading her bag with various perfumes, oils, and loose jewelry from one of the vanities, “One of the regulars came by, woke everyone up,” she explains as she quickly ties the bag off, “They’re taking in anyone who’s so much as nicked an apple from the market.”

Your eyes go wide at her words, head ringing as blood rushes to your cheeks. Thankfully, she seems too busy to notice you glance warily at your bed, knowing your lockbox with weeks worth of lifted coins is tucked neatly below it.

“I’m telling you, if you’ve pocketed even one extra groat, you’re as good as dead,” She shakes her head as she slings her bag over one shoulder, “Get out while you can, yeah? I think they’re a ways away st–”

A deafening crash from the front of the building cuts her off, the both of you shrieking. Your heart pounds in your chest at the sound of men’s voices; yours and Genna’s heads swivel to face one another at the same time before you both glance at the large wardrobe in the corner of the room – big enough for someone to climb inside of.

It seems you both have the same idea at the same time, each of you scrambling toward the cupboard. She’s a second behind you, though, her hefty bag slowing her by an instant and she yelps as you pull the wooden doors closed, pinching one of her fingers. You push yourself as far back in the cramped space as you can, trying to tuck yourself behind the hanging coats and dresses.

Finally, you stay as still as possible, chest heaving as your back presses into the wood behind you. You hear a muffled curse from Genna before she shrieks as heavy footsteps flood into the room.

“Shut it, whore!” A guard yells and the sound of a harsh slap makes you cover your mouth with a hand.

“Careful!” A different voice shouts as more heavy footsteps sound outside, “She’s a woman, not a shadowcat,” the new voice admonished, “Take her outside with the others, then go ahead and take the wagons to the dungeons below the Keep. No harm is to come to any of them, understood?”

“But the Commander sai–”

“I don’t give a shit what the Commander said,” the man all but growled, “I am your superior still, soldier, you take orders from me; I’ll worry about him. The night’s gotten out of hand as it is.”

“Yes, Captain,” the first man grumbles after a second. Heavy footsteps sound for an instant before Genna shrieks again, “I said shut it, whore!” The man’s voice is a bit muffled this time, further away.

“Tell the Commander I’m searching in here!” The second voice calls out gruffly; silently, you curse.

You hold yourself as still as possible as the muffled sounds of opening drawers and cabinets sound from outside the wardrobe, slowly but surely getting closer to you. Your heart leaps into your throat as the wardrobe doors are tugged open, yet you hold yourself still and squeeze your eyes closed, a naïve part of you hoping the soldier would just overlook you.

Of course that doesn’t happen.

“I do see you, you know,” the gruff voice sighs, his eyes on you, “Come on, out,” he commands.

Finally, you open your eyes and peek at him through gaps of fabric, warily taking in his appearance. Your eyes widen at his size, truly a mountain of a man, with curly dark hair and matching dark eyes, clad in metal plate armor with a familiar golden cloak around his shoulders. The look in his eyes is neutral, if not sympathetic, but you still don’t move, rooted to the spot.

With another sigh, he shakes his head at you and beckons you forward with a wave of his hand, “Please make this easy.”

When you still don’t move after a few more seconds, the man grumbles and reaches in, shoving past various articles of clothing until he grabs at your forearm and pulls you, stumbling, from the wardrobe.

“Let me go!” You cry, struggling in his grasp like a fish on a line, “Let me go, damn you! I haven’t done anything!” You shriek loudly, uselessly kicking your feet as he holds you steady at arms length.

“Easy!” The dark-haired man shouts over your screeches, “If you’ll just calm–”

“What’s this?” Another voice questions from the doorway, making both of you pause. Your eyes widen when you see the man, dressed in the same gold cloaked armor as the one holding you, though this one has purple eyes and pale white hair cascading over his shoulders, complete with a familiar face you’d seen before in the shadowy corners of the brothel, “Is that her?”

Her? You balk, glancing between the two men, They were looking for me?

The brunette stays silent for a moment, bushy brows furrowed together as he looks between you and the prince, brown eyes meeting two sets of purple, “She’s not… one of his, is she?” He asks quietly, only confusing you more.

Prince Daemon merely chuckles and shakes his head as he traipses toward you with a smirk. “Ohh, no, definitely not,” he mutters, squeezing your cheeks in one large, gloved hand as he forces your face to lift up toward his, “No, my dearest brother would never dare betray his wife so.”

He tilts your head from side to side, studying your face carefully, before making you face him once again as the other guard keeps hold of your arm, “What’s your name, girl?”

You glance between the men, caged in between their large frames, before finally telling them, each syllable merely a whisper on your lips.

The prince repeats it with a smug smile, the sound of your name on his tongue makes your head spin. “Ah, see, just as I thought,” he smirks, a pleased twinkle in his violet eyes, “A Lyseni whore.”

The other man merely grunts, though you don’t miss the way his dark brown eyes flit over your form appreciatively. Daemon moseys around the room, eyes scanning over the row of matching twin beds lined against one wall. “Which is yours?”

“I… I don’t sleep in here, my pr–”

“Lying won’t do you any good, you know,” he smirks, “We’ve had eyes and ears all over the city for months, including here. So, I’ll ask again. Which bed?”

You hesitate, only for a moment, before nodding at the bed to the far right. Your mind reels as Daemon begins his search, Someone was spying in here? One of the other girls?

“Aha!” He says after only a moment and your heart sinks as he pulls your small wooden lockbox out from its hiding spot. He drops it down onto your bed with a gloating smirk and you glance up just in time to see one of the prince’s pale hands reaching for the key at your neck, easily tugging it off the chain as you gasp and jerk once more in the other man’s grasp. “That was a gift from my father!”

“Daemon, please,” the other man sighs tiredly, scrambling to hold you in place once more, “Was that truly necessary?”

“Don’t start with me, Strong,” the prince huffs, moving to unlock the box, “You’ve spoiled my night of fun enough as is.” A low whistle sounds from his lips as he flips open the lid, quickly shuffling through the various coins, small pieces of jewelry, and other trinkets you’ve managed to swipe.

“Seems we got the right one after all,” the man holding your arm, the one apparently called Strong, murmurs, nodding toward you.

“Of course we got the right bloody one,” Daemon scoffs, violet eyes rolling in his head, “I only know of two Lyseni whores in this city and it certainly isn’t the other one.”

“Mysaria!” You whisper lowly, eyes widening as puzzle pieces begin clicking together in your mind.

The prince merely laughs, looking between you and the other knight as if you’ve just told some hilarious joke. “Finally figured it out, eh?” He teases, sauntering over to where you’re still being held.

As soon as he’s in reach, the guard holding you grabs your other arm as well, holding them both behind your back as if you’d be stupid enough to try anything against two Gold Cloaks. Even if you did manage to free yourself, what would be the point in running now?

“Seems we have a clever whore on our hands, Strong,” Daemon drawls, grinning when you flinch as he grips your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his once more, “And a pretty one too. You must earn enough to pay your keep, no? A little exotic flower like you is bound to get plucked at often enough.”

You wait for him to continue speaking but he doesn’t, he simply waits, eyes boring into you as if he’s trying to read your thoughts. For all you know, he can – you’ve heard whispers around King’s Landing of how the Targaryens were supposedly closer to Gods than men.

“I suppose so, my prince,” you all but squeak a moment later, unable to bear the intense silence any longer.

“Then tell me,” you gasp as he suddenly turns your head, directing your gaze toward the small wooden lockbox strewn open on your bed, “Why does a well paid whore need to steal? Hm?”

“I wasn’t stealing for me!” You blurt, chest heaving.

“Then why do it?” You startle slightly as the knight behind you speaks, his grip on your wrists loosening enough for you to relax some in his grasp. For someone so gruff and intimidating, there was a distinctive warmth to his voice – a soft, kind lilt.

With a sigh, you glance between the two men before speaking, “I send it back to my family, once every other moon or so.”

“You send money to your family,” Daemon echos, purple eyes narrowed suspiciously, “In Lys, I presume?”

You simply nod, your eyes downcast as the men share a look over your head.

“Why do you need to send them money?” The Strong guard asks as he releases your arms, brown eyes watching you closely.

“My father was a merchant,” you begin, nervously fiddling with the tie on your robe, “He would travel to Volantis a few times a year to buy the more exotic goods shipped in from cities further east, from the other side of Slaver’s Bay, to bring back to sell in Lys. He could get a better price for them at home, Westerosi ships rarely go any further than our ports and they were willing to pay more.”

“And then, one time he left for Volantis and… never came back,” you continue, your voice only a raspy whisper as the back of your throat tightens, “We received word some months later that there had been a slave rebellion in the city and that my father had been killed in it. So, now I send money back so that my mother and siblings are able to pay for our house, because in Lys, if you can no longer afford your land you –”

“You risk becoming a slave yourself,” the brunette knight finishes, sighing sympathetically when you nod.

“How very touching,” the prince mutters, though you can see pity clouding his eyes as well.

“Perhaps we should just let her go,” the Strong guard says after a moment, making you whip your head toward him in shock, “She isn’t a danger to anyone.”

“She may not be,” Daemon says, crossing his arms over his broad chest, “But a drunken, disgruntled lord who’s discovered his gold missing certainly is.”

The brown haired man hums thoughtfully at his reasoning and both of them eye you for a moment, silence falling over the room.

Shifting your weight from foot to foot, you silently reason that you have two options – convince them to free you or wind up in a cell beneath the Red Keep. Being locked away simply isn’t an option, not for you, as that would mean being unable to send money to your family and although petty theft doesn’t carry the penalty of death, you know that if anything were to happen to them, you’d wish it did.

Gathering your courage, you look between the two men, eyeing them up and down. “Perhaps,” you start, loosening the tie on your robe just enough to bare your cleavage just a bit more, “I could convince you that I’m worth much more as a free woman?”

“Little minx,” the prince rasps, stepping toward you and grasping at your jaw once more, “Maybe you’ll prove useful after all,” he says cryptically.

Before you have time to dwell on his words, he releases you and busies himself with quickly unbuckling his plate armor, letting the chest and torso pieces noisily clank on the floor as they fall against a pile of gold cloth.

You gasp as Daemon grabs you by the hips and pulls you to him, pressing himself against you tightly as his rough hands roam over your soft curves. You can’t help but giggle as an appreciative grunt leaves his lips, violet eyes darkening as they meet yours.

“Daemon,” the other guard starts with a sigh, hand resting on the pommel of his sword.

“Come, ser Strong,” the prince growls, hastily turning you to face the brown eyed man. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip as you look him up and down, the corners of your lips quirking up into a small smile when you see the flush on his cheeks, “It would be rude to turn down what our little mouse is so generously offering, hm?” The feel of Daemon’s hands on your body makes your eyes flutter closed for just a second, only to snap back open when he roughly grabs at your breasts just as his teeth press against the column of your throat, eliciting a soft cry from you.

“O-Oh!”

“See? Listen to that,” Daemon says, words muffled against your skin, “She likes it, don’t you?”

You quickly nod your head yes, head clouded by the feel of the prince’s length as it presses against the small of your back, hard enough to be felt through the trousers they wear under their armor. He chuckles as he suddenly cups your center, the silky fabric of your robe pressing against your already aching flesh, and nips at your neck once more before releasing you.

“Go,” he murmurs, giving you a gentle push toward the other knight, “Make the stubborn bore more comfortable.”

Biting your lip, you approach the man with a little grin. Standing before him, you move your hand to his shoulder, to the buckles of his plate armor.

“Is this okay?”

All he gives you is a curt nod, but it’s enough for you. With another reassuring smile, you pull at the leather buckles, unstrapping them one by one until he grabs at his chest plate and sets it on the floor, more gentle with it than Daemon had been.

Pausing for a second, you cock your head to the side curiously. “I know him,” you say with a nearly bashful smile, nodding your head at the prince, “But what do I call you, Ser?”

“Harwin, my lady. Just Harwin.”

Still sensing hesitance from him, you decide to be bold and gently take one of his hands and place it on one of your breasts, peering up into his deep brown eyes all the while. Your lips turn up into a pleased smile at the low groan that rumbles from his chest and you marvel at how warm his touch is through your robe, though before you have time to linger on it further, Harwin surges forward and presses his lips against yours.

You still for a second, not having expected such boldness from a man who had held so much back thus far. Getting your wits about you, you quickly respond in kind and move your lips with his, leaning into him a bit more as you grab at his shoulders. A pleased hum leaves your lips as his hands begin exploring you, seeming to grab and knead at any bits of you he can like he’s been starved for touch for years.

He groans into the kiss once more when you nip at his bottom lip, prompting him to slip his tongue into your mouth, which earns a small whimper from you as one of your hands slips down from his shoulder to rest on his toned, muscular chest.

The sudden feel of another presence at your back makes you jump slightly – you’d gotten so wrapped up in Harwin that you’d nearly forgotten that Daemon was still in the room, though the knowledge that he’d been watching the two of you sends an excited zing up your spine.

“Oh!” You gasp as he begins nipping and biting at your neck once more, soothing the marks he leaves behind with his tongue. Your lips move against Harwin’s as another pair of hands begins exploring you, impatiently tugging at the tie around your waist until your robe falls open. A whine leaves you as the knight’s hands immediately cup your bare breasts, kneading them and savoring the way your soft skin feels against his palms. At the same time, Daemon nearly growls as he presses himself against your ass, grinding his length against you as his hands grip at your hips and waist.

“I believe you said something about convincing us?” He mutters against your neck, grinning when you pull away from Harwin and meet his gaze as you turn to look over your shoulder, brow raising when you see he’d taken the time to strip off his tunic at some point.

“Quite right, my prince,” you grin, looking between the two men once more before slipping off your robe, leaving you bare as it pools on the floor. Your cheeks flush at their appreciative groans, skin prickling at the way you can practically feel their eyes on you.

With another little breath, you lower yourself to your knees between them and immediately skim your hands over their strong thighs. Ever eager, Daemon quickly unties his trousers, a predatory gleam in his purple eyes as he frees his hardening length.

You bite your bottom lip at the sight of it and quickly reach up to wrap a hand around it, marveling at the way it hardens steadily under your touch. “I think you’ll find I can be very persuasive,” you murmur, softly licking over the tip before sealing your lips around it and suckling gently while you gaze up at him, batting your lashes enticingly.

“Fuck,” he breathes, long fingers threading into your hair as his head tips back. You grin around him, bobbing your head while you stroke over the rest of his length with a hand, laving your tongue over the head.

Not forgetting about Harwin, you shift your gaze to him as your other hand palms his length where it presses against the rough fabric of his trousers, already hard and wanting. That seems to be the final straw for him and he scrambles to undo the ties, brown eyes glued to where your lips are wrapped around the prince’s hard cock.

Your eyes widen when his length finally springs free and you let Daemon slip from your lips as your mouth falls open. “Seven Hells,” you murmur, watching as Harwin strokes a hand over his cock, a proud smirk on his lips.

“Well now, that must be where your damn stubborn attitude comes from, Strong,” the prince teases, chest heaving as you continue stroking a hand over his length.

Unable to resist, you brush the knight’s hand away before grasping his cock in your own, heart skipping a beat as your fingers hardly touch around the girth of it. You lean over and lick up the length of him, from the base to the very tip, before taking him into your mouth, bobbing your head in the same way you did with Daemon.

It takes a few moments, but eventually you settle into a good rhythm – stroking one man’s member with your hand while you suck and lick at the others, swapping every few moments or when one of them gets impatient enough to tug you over by the hair.

It’s easy to lose yourself in the cacophonous sounds of grunts and growls above you, at the way each man’s fingers thread into your hair differently. Daemon’s grip is much rougher, more commanding, as he drags you exactly where he wants, pushing and pulling your head along his cock in an exacting rhythm.

Harwin, on the other hand, is more gentle — his tugs seeming more like suggestions than commands. Unlike the prince, he strokes over your hair gently as you attend to him, letting you set your own pace. Anytime your eyes meet his, he looks at you with awe almost, hairy chest heaving as his hips twitch, holding himself back from fucking your face in the way he wants.

Daemon has no such qualms, hasn’t the patience to resist tugging at your hair as he presses your mouth lower and lower down his cock, relishing the way you choke and sputter. His violet, half-lidded gaze sends shivers through you each time your eyes meet, the look in his eyes echoing the fierce dragon’s blood flowing in his veins.

Surprisingly, it’s Harwin that breaks first, tossing back his head with a low groan after some minutes and pulling you off of his cock.

“What—?” You scarcely get the word out before his lips are on yours once again, tongue licking into your mouth.

“Need you,” he mumbles simply, glaring as Daemon snickers behind your back. “Please,” he breathes, voice softer this time.

“You needn’t ask,” Daemon drawls, pressing himself against your side as his hands paw at your breasts, pinching and pulling at your nipples and chuckling at the way you whine, “She’s a whore.”

You roll your eyes playfully at the remark and grab Harwin’s hand, leading him toward one of the bigger rooms of the brothel. “That may be true, but perhaps I like a man with some decorum, my prince,” you call over your shoulder, chuckling as Daemon follows hot on your heels.

You lead the men to one of the fancier rooms, one laden with imported ornate rugs and silken lamps that give it a warm red glow, complete with a giant circular daybed with plenty of room for all three of you. After all, if the brothel is empty, why not take advantage of it?

Putting on your very best show, you push at Harwin’s hairy chest until he sits back on the edge of the bed before walking over to him with a sly smirk, hips swaying enticingly. A chuckle leaves your lips when his eyes widen as you climb on his lap, your thighs bracketing his.

“Is this ok –” His lips are on yours before you can finish the question; the both of you move a bit more desperately now, though his touches are no less attentive as his hands skim over your waist and up your back.

Suddenly, you’re tugged away from Harwin’s lips with a little gasp as one of Daemon’s hands laces through the hair at the crown of your head, drawing you back until your spine is arched.

“Forgetting someone?” He teases, lightly wrapping his other hand around your neck in a way that sends pleasant tingles down to your already aching center. You shake your head no, teeth biting into your bottom lip as Harwin’s cock twitches between your legs.

“Never, my prince,” you murmur, smiling into the kiss as Daemon presses his lips against yours. His movements are more urgent than Harwin’s and it soon dissolves into a battle of teeth and tongues; you mewl into his mouth when the hand around your neck slides down your chest and palms eagerly at one of your breasts.

Though they’re closed, your eyes roll back as Harwin leans forward and begins mouthing at the side of your neck, his wavy hair tickling your shoulder. Soon enough, both men are pawing greedily at your chest, making your head spin – both of their touches are so different: where Daemon is rough, pinching at your nipple until you gasp and whine into his kiss, Harwin is gentle and uses his thumb to tease at the other until he feels you shivering on his lap.

The knight surprises you once more when his touch skirts down over your stomach before his fingers run through your folds, making you jerk from Daemon’s grasp with a moan. Your cheeks flush slightly at the sight of the little victorious grin on Harwin’s face as he expertly circles your pearl, watching closely at the way his touch makes you squirm and grind down against his hard length.

“That’s it,” he husks, grunting as your grasp tightens on his shoulders, nails digging into his lightly tanned skin, “Need to warm you up, don’t I?”

Beside you, Daemon scoffs as he stands straight once more, fingers still threaded through your hair. “Please,” he huffs, sliding closer to where you sit on the knight’s lap, until his length is practically brushing against your cheek, “Whores don’t need warming, Strong. You may as well take her.”

Before you have time to so much as register the jab, Harwin slips a thick finger inside you in the same instance that Daemon manhandles his cock into your waiting mouth, muffling your whimpers. Both men growl as they take you, the knight’s finger fucking easily into your wet channel as the prince’s length slides against your tongue once more.

You can hardly do more than ragdoll in their grasp, mewling while Harwin fingers you open, adding a second digit after a moment and crooking them in a way that makes your hips rut eagerly into his touch while Daemon takes from you as he pleases, fucking into your throat with loud growls and grunts.

Below you, Harwin groans as he easily presses a third finger into your heat, watching you carefully as he does and smirking when you show no signs of discomfort. “Think you’re ready for me,” he murmurs, chuckling when you nod your head as best as you can. As desperate as you are to be filled properly, you can’t help but let out a little petulant whine as he pulls his fingers from you.

“Patience,” he grunts, shifting you on his lap enough to reach between your bodies and fist his length, grinning at the way you squirm eagerly as he runs the head through your slick folds. His chest reverberates under your palms when he growls as he finally grabs at your hips and pulls you down steadily over his thick cock, half-lidded eyes staring down at where you both connect, “Fuck, there you go.”

You pull away from Daemon with a loud gasp, sucking in a lungful of air, chest heaving as your walls pulse around the knight, savoring the way his stretches you open. “Gods!” You cry, wriggling in his hold as you grind against him, your hips moving of their own accord.

Daemon huffs, annoyed, and tries dragging you back onto his cock a few times to no avail, quickly becoming irritated at the way you mindlessly clench your jaw closed each time Harwin’s cock presses against the sensitive spot within you.

“Poor little whore,” the prince sighs exasperatedly, once again tugging your head back until your eyes meet his, “Too distracted, hm?”

You open your lips to reply, only to gasp dazedly as Harwin thrusts up into you from below, muscular thighs flexing under your own. “Give her a moment,” he grunts, gripping your hips to guide you over his length.

The prince merely tsks, pulling at your hair again until your eyes pop open; a shiver goes through you at the smirk that graces his lips, as if he knows something you don’t. “Tell me,” he starts, carding his long fingers through your hair, “Have you ever taken two cocks at once?”

“N – fuck!” You gasp, eyes rolling back briefly as Harwin ruts up into you quickly, evidently excited by the idea, “N-No.”

“Hmm,” Daemon hums, smirk only widening, “Then I know just the way to get your attention.”

He moves away from you quickly, letting your head flop back uselessly as he walks swiftly to a small cabinet in the corner of the room where the Madam keeps a small stock of massage oils and lotions. You straighten just in time to watch as he stalks back over to you and Harwin, a vial of oil in hand. “I trust you have at least some experience with this, yes?” He questions, letting out a pleased hum when you nod.

The two men share a look between them and you mewl as Harwin lays back against the day bed, pulling you with him until you’re lying against his chest, making you gasp as the change in angle presses his length squarely against the most sensitive spot within you.

“Hold her steady,” Daemon murmurs behind you, uncorking the little bottle of oil.

The knight grunts when you tighten around him and one of his hands abandons its hold on your hip to cup one of your cheeks, his touch surprisingly delicate for a man of his stature. “Excited?” He questions, brown eyes studying your face carefully.

Any reply dies on your lips in lieu of an eager gasp when you feel the prince’s presence behind you, his hips nearly touching your rear as he slots himself between Harwin’s legs. Still, you nod your head earnestly, sending pearlescent hair cascading over your shoulders to pool on the knight’s chest.

Harwin’s chest rumbles with a satisfied hum, though you’re left gasping at the feel of one of Daemon’s hands deftly parting your arse cheeks, swiftly followed by massage oil being drizzled between them, filling the room with the scent of lavender. When you jolt slightly at the feel of a finger skirting over your entrance, the prince is quick to reprimand you with a sharp slap to the rear, leaving your skin tingling in its wake.

“You’re going to be good for us?” Harwin questions, drawing your attention back to him as he smooths a thumb over your cheekbone.

“Y-Yes, yes,” you nod listlessly, breaths staggered as Daemon fingers you open, expertly preparing you. Again, you earn a pleased hum from the man below you.

The next few moments pass in a blur – your head spins as the prince readies you and Harwin placates you all the while with gentle caresses and kisses, even snaking a hand between your bodies to rub at your aching pearl.

Finally, Daemon seems satisfied and pulls his fingers from you before slotting himself against you, quickly slicking up his cock with more of the oil before pressing the head against your opening, grinning smugly when you press back against him.

“Fuck, there we go,” he rasps, carefully sliding his length into you until his hips meet your backside.

A high, whining keen is pulled from your lungs at the stretch, tingles shooting up your spine and making you shudder at the feel of being this filled. You can do little more but gasp, pinned between two muscular bodies, as the men start to move. The feel of it is like none other, a constant push and pull as they thrust in and out of you in tandem.

“G-Gods, fuck!” You finally cry, managing to suck in a lungful of air as your nails dig into Harwin’s chest.

The knight beneath you isn’t faring much better than you are, a near constant stream of deep grunts and groans leaving his lips as he feels you tighten on his cock. “By the Seven, you feel divine,” he mumbles, making you cry out as he pulls you to him, strong hands encircling your waist as he mouths at your shoulder, biting at your skin.

Above you, Daemon’s violet eyes remain fixed on your ass, savoring the way it bounces each time his hips smack against it, watching as his length spears into you again and again. “What a good little whore,” he grunts, words short and clipped as he clenches his jaw. A stuttered moan is pulled from you as he grabs at your backside, fingers do doubt leaving bruises in their wake as he gropes you, “Taking us so well.”

Your muscles tense at the praise as your high threatens to overwhelm you, looming in a small pit in your belly that’s growing bigger and bigger with each passing second. Your walls tighten around Harwin again, making him hiss beneath you.

“Gonna, Gods, I –” you cry, eyes squeezing shut as the knight bullies the sensitive spot within you, pounding against it with each rough thrust, making your words die on your tongue.

Thankfully, Harwin understands perfectly, balancing on that thin precipice himself – the cacophonous litany of your moans and whines along with the lewd, wet sounds of their cocks plunging into you again and again only serving to push him further to his own end.

“That’s it,” the knight rasps, grabbing your chin with one hand and directing your attention toward him once more, “Go on, peak, let me feel it.”

His command, along with another hard smack to your rear from Daemon, send you hurtling over the edge with a sharp, loud cry. You lose all sense between them, muscles clenching and relaxing rhythmically as your whole body seems to erupt into flame.

The gorgeous look on your face, along with the steady pulse of your walls around him, finish Harwin as well. A deep groan, complementary to your own high-pitched whines, is all but punched from his chest as his length twitches within you, painting your walls with his spend.

As your peak slowly settles, like waves receding at low tide, you’re left gasping, clinging to Harwin as Daemon still thrusts wildly into you, chasing his own high. Desperate to feel you clench around him once more, the prince reaches around, over your hip, and his greedy fingers quickly find your bud.

“Oh!” You gasp, squirming in the knight’s grasp as the prince’s fingers roughly rub against your pearl, forcibly dragging you right back to the edge you’d just fallen from.

“Come on,” Daemon grunts, tugging you up by the shoulder until your back presses against his chest, deep, vicious grunts filling your ear, “One more, little whore, fucking do it for me.”

You scramble in his hold, lips parting in a silent cry as your muscles jerk in sharp, uncoordinated movements. Unable to extract yourself from his hold, the overstimulation finally gives way to blinding pleasure once more and you peak with a loud, piercing yelp.

Daemon grunts behind you, pleased, as your walls all but force a high from him as well. He thrusts into you a few more times, groaning at the feel of your slick coating his fingers and pooling between your bodies. Finally, he lets go, grumbling low words in a language you don’t understand as he fills you.

The only sounds in the near empty brothel is the sound of staggered pants as the three of you catch your breaths, content to do little more than lie in a heap for a few moments.

It’s Daemon that moves first, pulling himself from you with a muted grunt before swaggering over to a small vanity, pulling up and tying his trousers as he goes.

Harwin soothes you with gentle touches as he pulls away, keenly aware of the way you wince at certain movements, overly sensitive now. “Are you okay?” He asks, voice gentler now as he surveys your body, “Nothing hurts?”

You can’t help but chuckle at his concern, so unused to men caring for you once they finish. “I’m fine, I assure you,” your lips quirk into a smile as you soothe his worries, a little sigh leaving your lips as you settle back against the silken sheets that cover the daybed.

“Here,” Daemon grunts with indifference as he tosses a clean cloth at you, more than familiar with the layout of the place, “To clean yourself.”

You huff softly and roll your eyes playfully before grabbing the small towel and standing to wipe spend and extra oil from your skin, making a mental note to heat water for a proper bath as soon as the men leave.

It’s then that it occurs to you that they may not let you stay, what if even this wasn’t enough to secure your freedom, to get them to overlook your transgressions?

“So,” you start, discarding the cloth in a laundry basket by the vanity before turning and facing the men, surprised to find Harwin’s eyes already on you, “Forgive and forget, yes? The debt has been paid, etcetera?”

They share a look as they dress themselves, Daemon loosely pulling on his armor, opting to tuck most of it beneath an arm, though Harwin takes the time to fasten his properly.

“Oh, I think you’ve more than convinced us to spare you, little minx,” the prince drawls, eyes roving over your still nude form as he approaches you and takes your chin between two long fingers, “As for your debt, well…”

You grin as he trails off, two pairs of purple eyes sliding over to Harwin.

“There’s still the interest to consider,” he murmurs with a little chuckle, dark eyes sparkling with mirth.

thank you for taking the time to read! hope you enjoyed! :)

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Stand up Pouches Market Size, Leading Players, Analysis, Sales Revenue and Forecast 2029

Stand up Pouches Market: size was valued at USD 22.50 Bn. in 2021 and the total Stand-Up Pouches revenue is expected to grow by 8.0% from 2022 to 2029, reaching nearly USD 41.65 Bn.

A report on the Stand up Pouches Market has been released by Maximize Market Research, a renowned global provider of data and research on the regional and global aerospace and defence sector. The research provides market sizes by region and predictions through 2029 in addition to other key business information.

The research covers a wide range of market- and industry-related topics. Product launches, company growth, alliances, joint ventures, and acquisitions are a few marketing strategies. The creation of this study has taken into account all significant elements of market research that are essential to the situation of the industry today. This market research analysis also covers the key business trends, challenges, and opportunities. The leading business consultant for the aerospace and defence sector, Maximize Market Research, recently published a report on the competitive landscape and market intelligence for the Stand up Pouches Market. An expert with 18 years of expertise looked at the market from both a domestic and international viewpoint using both primary and secondary data.

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Market Overview:

By conducting a detailed statistical analysis of current and emerging trends, the fundamentals of the Stand up Pouches Market may be better understood. In order to assess the importance of numerous aspects, including threats provided by diverse agents, competitive strength, and the understanding of a resource by ambitious young enterprises, the study examines Porter's five forces. The study looked at each country at the micro level to establish the total market size by countries and market categories. With the use of a method known as "bottom-up" forecasting, the size of the regional and global markets is determined. A micro level analysis of each country will reveal how much the underground market contributes to the growth of the larger market. The findings were supported by in-depth interviews with well-known local business owners. The information used in secondary research is obtained from both for-profit and open-access sources, and it is then analysed. The sources for consumption by category and supply by each player in each country are actual government data, commercial databases, and annual reports of publicly traded companies.

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Market Key players:

• Amcor • Bemis Company • Berry Global Group • Mondi • Sonoco • Sealed Air • Coveris • ProAmpac • Smurfit Kappa • Huhtamaki • CONSTANTIA • Winpak Ltd. • GUALAPACK S.P.A. VIA CARLO MUSSA 266 • American Packaging Corporation • Bryce Corporation • CLONDALKIN GROUP • Interflex Group • Swiss Pac Pvt. Ltd. • Glenroy, Inc. • Hood Packaging Corporation

Market Segmentation:

By Applications, the Food and Beverage segment dominated the market in 2021 by holding XX% revenue share and is expected to maintain its dominance at the end of the forecast period. Stand-up pouches are widely used in the packaging of sauces, pet food, ready-to-eat meals, candies, chocolates, dried fruits and nuts, nutritional supplements, and confectionery goods in the food and beverage industry. Stand-up pouches are composed of highly sterilized materials, which serve to keep the product clean. Many of these pouches are made with multi-layered films that protect the contents from moisture, light, and odor while also preserving the freshness of food and beverages. Convenience is the keyword in consumer goods today. The consumer has shown a willingness to pay a premium for packaging that delivers convenience. Easy-open, pre-portioned, ready-to-use, microwavable (dual-ovenable), etc. – all of these features have proven to be popular with consumers today. Beverages have been among the products that have been subjected to the most dramatic of these changes. Bottled water for personal use was virtually unknown in this country 40 years ago. Commercially produced and packaged iced tea was also a new category. Bottled coffee products, energy drinks, juice blends, and other beverages have all been added to the multiple choices consumers have.

Regional Analysis:

North America

Europe

Asia-Pacific

Middle East and Africa (MEA)

South America

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#Stand up Pouches Market

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swatimmr · 2 years

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#Stand up Pouches Market

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sanguineterrain · 3 months

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I am FERAL over your knight Jason thought. FERAL!!! Okay check this out: so Jason's ignoring reader because he feels guilty right? Maybe he tried to give them back but the king wouldn't allow it. But maybe the reader misunderstands and thinks they're not doing their "duties" so they make dinner and breakfast and wash his clothes and basically act like a perfect spouse. How would Jason react? 👀

Dear god... I feel another series coming on...

Idkidk, their dynamic is just really interesting to me! it's probably gonna be a bit of a slow burn here. Feel free to send more thoughts about them. I am rotating these two like a rotisserie chicken in my brain.

knight!jason todd x gn!reader. ambiguous time period but just assume it's olden times *gestures vaguely*. tw arranged marriage/forced relationship but it's complicated! jason is full of angst and self-loathing but he's a sweetie as per usual. original post for context.

****

The soldier—Jason—has said four words since you've arrived.

The first was "here," which he said whilst handing you a mug of milk. He didn't look at you as he said it, and that morning, he left for a five-day long station. You only know that because he said, after handing you the milk, "I've been stationed."

You realized it was five days when you heard his horse galloping towards the house... five days later.

You haven't initiated conversation because though you're a commoner, and no one ever had much hope for you to become anything but an old spinster, you know not to challenge knights.

But this is fucking ridiculous.

"Do you like veal?" you ask on your fourteenth day here.

Jason is about to leave, his boots half laced. He freezes at your question and looks up.

You stand tall, chin up. This is a normal question. A question a wife would ask her husband, except you're not a wife, and you're pretty sure this soldier isn't a husband either.

"I like veal," he says carefully, slowly. "Would you like me to fetch some from the market?"

Now, this is where it gets tricky. When the king summoned you, he made it clear that you were expected to care for Jason under his rules. You don't know how to navigate this world. You know what couples in your village do, but you don't know what's expected of you here.

"Actually, I..." Jason looks at you. His eyes are very green. He has a surprisingly sweet face under his helmet. "Actually, I was wondering if I could go. On my own."

"Oh."

You brace yourself for arguing or yelling. True, he hasn't raised his voice once, but he also hasn't said much at all. It's like living with a ghost.

"Yes, of course. Of course you can go." He fishes out a pouch of coins and gives them to you. You take it slowly, waiting for him to realize his mistake. He doesn't.

"Thank you," you say.

He nods and watches you walk.

"Wait."

You stop. Here it comes.

"There's a cargo ship in port today. The guards rotate at noon."

He leaves before you can form a thought. You hold the coins, watching blankly as the door shuts behind him. His horse whinnies, and then he's gone.

The market isn't far from the cottage. It's fantastic to be outside again. No one's noticed your absence, clearly, but that's alright. You've never expected more.

You buy a good cut of veal and potatoes and carrots and apples. Jason gave you more money than any cut of meat would cost, so surely he assumed you would buy other food. Why else would he give you so much?

A ship's horn drones in the distance. You're feeling some oranges when you remember his words. A cargo ship.

The sun is almost at its highest point.

"Oi! Either buy 'em or stop feelin' 'em!" the seller snaps.

You roll your eyes and move on from the orange stand. You can see the horizon of where the sky meets the sea from here. Any moment, the guards will change, and the ship will be...

You stop. Was Jason hinting at your escape?

No, he couldn't have been! That's preposterous. Why would he want you gone? The king took you for a reason.

And where would you go anyway? Once you leave, you'd be a criminal forever. You couldn't make a home on your own. And who knows what could happen in between? Pirates, enemy soldiers, anybody could snatch you up.

This must've been a test. A test to see if you would run. That's why he agreed to you going so easily.

No, your escape can't be planned now. Not when you're so obviously uncomfortable, and Jason knows it.

You ignore the ship and go home with your purchases. You spend the rest of the afternoon preparing veal stew. You warm leftover bread over the fire and set a pot of butter on the table.

Jason comes in louder than he has before, humming quietly. You perk up at the sound, happy for the lack of silence.

You set a bowl of stew at his chair and wait by the fire. As soon as he enters the kitchen, the humming stops.

"Welcome home," you say, wringing your hands. "I made supper."

Jason glances at the table, then back at you.

"You came back," he says.

"Why wouldn't I?" you ask, face neutral as you cut the bread into chunks.

"That—did the ship come?"

"Yes."

Jason sits. His face is dirty from training.

"I bought more than veal," you say, and hand him the pouch. "I hope that's alright. We—there were no more potatoes."

He takes the pouch, rubbing the string tied around the top. "You went to the marketplace... and came back."

It's not a question, but it sounds like there might be one behind it.

"Certainly," you say. "I'm loyal to you, Jason. I serve you."

He looks up, blinking rapidly. Then he looks back at his stew.

Oh, right. He's waiting for you to ask permission to sit.

"May I join you?" you ask.

Jason flinches. "You don't... you don't have to ask. I would never stop you from eating."

The words hang in the air. It's like neither one of you can speak right.

You watch him, and he watches you as you serve yourself and sit on the opposite side of the table. Jason takes the first bite, and you eat right after.

"Is the supper satisfactory? Have I done well?" you ask.

Jason stops chewing and sets his spoon down. You're struck by his shift in demeanor. You worry for a moment you've screwed up something as dim-wittingly simple as stew.

His eyes are sad as they fall on you. It's akin to grief, the pain he wears, but you don't know why he's grieving. You silently offer him more bread, pushing it toward him. He takes it.

"Yes," he says quietly and eats another spoonful. "You did. Thank you for supper."

Jason cleans his bowl three times. You have no stew leftover, which pleases you.

But as soon as Jason finishes eating, he gets up, rinses his bowl, and wordlessly leaves.

You don't see him for the rest of the night.

Somehow, you feel lonelier than when you weren't speaking.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #red hood x gender neutral reader #jason todd x gender neutral reader #knight au #knight jason #arranged marriage #batman fanfic #dc fanfic #jason todd fanfic #blurb #inbox

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decembermidnight · 6 months

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Beskar and Pearls

Summary: Wearing the luxurious gift the Mandalorian gave you while accompanying him on a business trip turns out to be a pleasurable torture.

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: no plot - just smut, 18+ MDNI, teasing in public, Dom!Din, sub!reader, possessive!Din, lots of dirty talk, Din being a sexy arrogant asshole, glove kink, masculinity kink, humiliation kink, hair pulling, unprotected rough sex, mentions of exhibitionism kink, multiple orgasms, multiple creampies (wtf is a refractory period), a hint of overstimulation

A/N: the most coherent thoughts I have while ovulating. I have no excuse. This is FILTHYYYY I hope you enjoy it! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated!! Also a big thank you to @thefrogdalorian for making sure it's written in decent English and to @saradika-graphics for the perfect divider 💕

Masterlist - Read on Ao3

The Mandalorian has just landed his ship on Nevarro after spending an entire month catching quarries in the outer rim. He has been away most of the time, but he made sure he'd make up for it every time he came back, too proud and stubborn to admit with words that he missed you, but demonstrating it by spoiling you with luxurious gifts and his body.

You look at him in reverential adoration as he dresses in his armour – a blend of his Mandalorian heritage and the many trophies he acquired from his victims, dark red in colour and dented after many close encounters with death.

He's just finished strapping weapons everywhere on his marvellous body when he addresses you.

“Hey. Got this for you. Wear it. We’re going to the market, I have some business to attend to,” Mando says as he hands you a small drawstring pouch he was hiding in his utility belt.

You immediately open it and its content leaves you speechless. It’s the sexiest piece of underwear you’ve ever seen – an expensive-looking black lace thong with just a string of pearls meant to go between your pussy lips.

If he wants you to wear it while in Nevarro, a lawless planet full of dangerous bounty hunters, you will wear it under the shortest skirt you have. The mere thought of his eyes glued to your ass, hoping to get a glimpse of it while being vigilant of other men at the same time, makes your head spin. You let out an aroused sigh and look at him, impassive as always behind the dark visor.

“That should keep you busy,” Mando chuckles and tilts his helmet.

You immediately wear it along with that short, flowy dress that also happens to be his favourite one on you.

“Let me see it,” he says as his hands grab you by the waist. He brings you closer to him and immediately lifts your skirt. He kneels before you and lets out a satisfied hum when he sees the tempting way the pearls disappear into your slit. The Mandalorian lingers there, dark visor trained on that heavenly view as his gloved hands caress your thighs. The sharp contrast between the coarse leather and your delicate, soft skin gives you a thrill of pleasure. You guess – you hope – the trip won’t take long.

His chestplate rises and falls as he struggles to catch his breath and maintain his composure at the sight of your perfect cunt dressed in pearls. It’s incredible to see how something so dainty could turn out to be so perverse and sinful.

“Come on. Let’s go now,” he says as he stands up. Now at his full height, his imposing figure resumes towering over yours. You admire him in awe, taking in the broadness of his body and the way his armour magnificently highlights it.

He offers you his hand to descend the ramp and as soon as you start walking, you understand why he said that it would keep you busy. With every step that you take, the pearls pleasurably rub against your clit. You can feel yourself getting wet already. There's an aroused expression on your face that Mando does not miss.

"Are you enjoying it?" he asks teasingly.

"Yes," you answer and bite your lip.

"Good,” you can hear how pleased he is seeing you like that after you’ve barely taken a few steps out of the ship. You know the thought of you being so aroused in public while having to control yourself is making him hard. You decide to play his game, see where this leads.

Mando is walking right behind you, strutting proudly as he stalks you like a hunter follows its prey. You feel his gaze trained on your butt, so you accentuate the swaying of your hips to get more friction from the pearls and to seduce him even further, hoping to get a reaction from him.

"Shake your ass as much as you want, you're not getting anything until I'm done here. You're only getting this scum to see how pretty you are. I like it," he slaps your ass and chuckles. You bite your lip to muffle a whimper.

"See the way they're looking at you? If they dare even think of touching you, their dead body will touch the ground before they lay one finger on you," he whispers in your ear as he grabs your hand and positions it over his blaster.

"You are mine," he growls in your ear as he wraps his other hand around your waist. He pulls you close, until the flustered, naked skin of your back touches his cold beskar chest plate. A thrill of excitement traverses your whole body and goes straight between your legs.

No one would be so stupid to touch you, not when a Mandalorian is claiming you as his, not when you can feel his erection against your ass. The whole thing is making you light-headed with arousal, so much that you start to shamelessly rub your ass against his cock. His hand tightens its grasp around your waist as your head rolls back to rest on his shoulder. You sigh in his neck and his hand trails up and wraps around your throat.

"Behave now," the Mandalorian growls as you feel his fingers tightening their grasp, trying to restrain himself from giving into lust already.

“I want you,” you whisper in his neck.

“I know,” he replies confidently before releasing you. What an arrogant motherfucker. You want to make him so hard he’ll want to bring you back to the ship and fuck your brains out, putting his desire for you before his stupid pride and his business. You want him to surrender to his carnal instinct.

The more steps you take, the more desperate you become for relief from this agonising, yet pleasurable torture. The pearls are stimulating your clit mercilessly, without ever getting you close to an orgasm. Your cunt spasms and clenches and what's worse is that he knows. Mando has spent so long quietly studying his bounties that he can tell by the irregular way you're breathing that you're struggling with the sensation. You bet he's enjoying every second of it, smirking under the helmet.

Just before entering the market area, he pulls you closer to him one more time, making you gasp.

"Now be quiet. You wouldn't want to fuck up my business. Be a good girl," he whispers softly in your ear as you feel his hand on your lower belly—close, so close to where you want him the most. Maker, he’s rock hard. You can feel it. You can’t think of anything else when his erection is pressing against your ass and his arm is tightly wrapped around your waist. He lets you go and you enter the market area together.

You try to divert your attention on whatever item they’re selling in the stands but it’s mostly weapons and things for bounty hunters that you couldn’t care less about. You can feel your arousal starting to drip down your legs, making your inner thighs slippery. Your swollen clit is pulsing and begging for attention, but Mando has been clear - you’ll get nothing until I'm done here, and you know nothing could make him change your mind, unless you play your cards right.

He grabs a seat in a beat-up wooden booth, his legs spread wide due to the massive erection trapped in his pants. There is an undeniable air of confidence and arrogance to him when he sits like this, looking so imposing and authoritative. You wish you could just drop to your knees and please him in any way he wants.

"Be my good pretty whore and sit here," Mando invites you to sit on his thigh and you immediately comply. You're so damn wet, you can't keep your legs closed.

"Hmm? Sitting here like this with your legs spread open? Do you want everyone to see your pretty cunt? Better let them know to whom this belongs, don't you think?" he coos in your ear with his husky voice. He knows you're both perfectly concealed and no one could see what's going on under that table. He's doing that just to prove a point—that you belong to him.

You nod mindlessly as his hand cups your cunt and stays there, still, without moving.

"Mando. Mando I need–" you whisper in his neck in a trembling voice.

"Oh. I know," he says, pleased when he sees how flustered you're getting. "Not yet," he growls as one of his gloved fingers trails your slit. He stops right before your clit, making you whimper and grip his arm tight in response. You dig your nails in his flightsuit as he feels how unbelievably wet you are.

"Hey. Behave now," he whispers as a Rodian approaches the booth and takes a seat, greeting him with a nod of his head. He immediately hands Mando a puck.

You have no idea what they’re talking about – you can't focus on anything else apart from the way Mando’s gloved hand holds the puck. You look at his fingers with pure lust, thinking of them touching your clit, pumping inside your cunt, the coarse leather caressing your skin.

You let your hand trail on his inner thigh and he stays surprisingly calm, not flinching one bit as your fingertips slowly slide higher, until they finally meet his cock. He is so unbelievably hard, you feel him throbbing underneath your fingers as you trail them all over his length. The Mandalorian won't betray any emotion, which turns you on even more. He's perfectly calm and collected on the outside, but you bet he'd love to throw you on that table and bury himself in you.

As soon as the Rodian hands Mando a handful of credits as an advance, he leaves.

"Please. Please, I need you," you whisper in his neck.

"I'm not done here. Be patient."

The throbbing need between your legs causes you to ache so badly that you don’t notice another man has approached and taken a seat until he begins speaking with the Mandalorian.

They're speaking in a foreign language, and Mando’s interlocutor does not seem happy. Judging by their tones of voice and gestures, they appear to be negotiating the fee for Mando collecting a certain bounty that the man needs capturing and he is displeased that Mando commands a high price. You’ve learnt over the time you’ve spent with the Mandalorian that there's not much room for negotiation with him. He has leverage since he's regarded as being the best bounty hunter in the outer rim. The way he speaks is so confident, it makes you even wetter how he does not lose composure while the other man is basically yelling at him.

He starts running his thumb on the string of pearls digging in your slit, feeling how wet you are for him as he keeps talking to his client while you're sitting in his lap, doing nothing but looking pretty. You're his slut and he wants everyone to know it, but you have to act cool even as he teases you under the table. You have to control the way you breathe, you can't let even the smallest whimper out. Why is this so hot? Why is he so hot?

In the end, the man hands him a hefty amount of credits and rises from the table with a huff, muttering and cursing as he goes.

"Please, take me back to the ship and fuck me. I won't ask for anything else, please," you whisper sensually in the crook of his neck.

"I'm not done here," he tries to appear impassive, but as soon as you resume your touching between his legs, he jerks slightly. You smirk, satisfied.

"Mando…" you trace the outline of his cock with your fingers, feeling how hard his erection is while purring in his neck. His pants are thick, but as you stop right at the tip, drawing circles on it with your fingertips, you can feel the fabric getting slightly damp.

“You’re so hard…” you sigh sensually as you keep rubbing his cock. You hear a choked grunt from him, now that he can’t focus on his job anymore, now that he’s at the mercy of your teasing. You’re so tempting, acting so shameless in public, the thrill of someone noticing the two of you drives him insane and you know it. You’re finally getting your revenge. You can bet he's close to losing control. Mando is twitching in his pants, his breathing getting heavier and heavier...

"Fuck it." He grabs you by the arm and you rush out of the market and back to the ship.

The Mandalorian doesn't even wait for the ramp to close behind him to bend you over the first crate he finds, kicking your legs open with his feet and freeing his throbbing erection. His gloved hands run up your skirt and position themselves around your hips, keeping you steady for him as he slams into you all at once. He meets no resistance from your drenched cunt whatsoever, leaving you breathless as you exhale in a loud moan. You're crushed between the crate and his beskar body, pleasurably forced to take his thick cock. You're only able to let out ragged groans and clamp tightly around him as he finally gives it to you just like you wanted.

"You. Fucking whore. Couldn't wait for me to finish my business. Wanted this dick so much, hm? Are you happy now?!" his thrusts are furious and relentless, his hips crushing your body against the crate with a devastating force. The angle at which he's hitting you is deep, so deep that you can't even prop yourself up on your shaky elbows. You're just getting brutally fucked without dignity.

"You get so disobedient when you want this cock. Maybe I should just tie you up and gag you?"

You can't even mumble words, too absorbed by the feeling of his cock thrusting inside of you, so aroused at the idea of him using your body for his pleasure.

"You're so wet. Damn. It must have been such a torture, right? To be so wet and turned on? Hearing you beg like that made me so fucking hard. Feel it. Feel what you do to me," he rasps as he rails you deep and hard.

The way the pearls are rubbing against your clit and the perfect rhythm of his thrusts are driving you close to the edge already.

"Mando, Mando, I'm–" you can barely mumble as you helplessly drag your hands against the crate.

"Yeah. Come. Seems like it's the only thing that will make you obedient. You wanted it so much, you can have as many as you want today."

'Thank you, thank you, tha–" your blissful chant is abruptly cut as the orgasm takes control over your body. Your cunt clenches hard around his thick cock and your legs jerk uncontrollably, barely touching the ground as he keeps you still and never stops drilling into you as you ride your high. The pleasure is so intense, it leaves you breathless as your cunt keeps involuntarily spasming around him in aftershock. You're panting against the metal crate beneath you, overwhelmed and reduced to a trembling, feeble mess, the coldness of it is a relief against the hot, flustered skin of your body that won't stop begging for him.

"Is this what you wanted, hm? For me to stop everything I was doing to come here and take care of you? Needy girl. You desperately wanted attention, hm?"

You can only mumble in assent, feeling the way he takes out his rage on you.

"Bet you would've let me fuck you in a dirty fucking alley if I wanted to."

"Y-yes–" you reply in a breathy groan, drenching yourself at the mere thought.

"What a slut. What if someone heard you screaming like that? What if someone heard how wet this pussy is when I fuck it? Fuck, you're dripping!"

For a man who barely speaks in normal circumstances, he sure does like to run his mouth when he's buried deep inside of you.

"Yeah. I bet you'd like it if someone saw me fucking you like the slut that you are," he pants and you start whimpering and clamping around him at the idea.

"I knew it. You're such a whore. But you are mine, and I won't let anyone hear these pretty moans and see this perfect cunt. They belong to me. To me," he growls.

"Yes – yes. I fuck–ing b-belong to you," you repeat mindlessly.

"Does it get this much to get you this wet? Just a string of pretty pearls? Looking so fucking good. So fucking good. Are you enjoying it?"

"Yes, Mando!"

"Shit, you're so tight. You're making me come," he says in a broken voice. His thrusts get erratic, as does his breathing "This cunt is so perfect, so fucking perfect," he emphasises the very last word before bursting, spilling hot and wet inside of you in a ragged groan, whining at how good it feels. His muscles tense and he gets rigid behind you, his head rolling back in pleasure.

"Oh, fuck! You're so hot. Spill all of your cum inside of me. Like this, yes!" you cry and start touching your clit, so turned on at the sight and feeling of his orgasm.

The sounds he makes as he comes are the hottest ones you have ever heard. The infamous Mandalorian – stoic, imposing and menacing – is getting lost in the overwhelming pleasure you’re offering him. Your drenched, tight pussy is making that dangerous warrior crumble. You’re so aroused, you need more.

"Please, please don't stop fucking me!" you dare asking him.

"I won't," he grunts as he keeps burying his dick deep, so deep inside of you.

"Don't stop. Don't stop. Oh, fuck, I need you to fuck me harder, please!" you plead as you feel his cum starting to drip down your hole. "Maker, please!" you say as you start frantically slapping and rubbing your clit as you hear the obscene, sloppy sounds of his cock thrusting in and out of you, of his hips slamming against your ass.

"I won't stop. Fuck, I want more. I can't stop. You drive me fucking insane!" he growls, resembling a wild beast, completely overwhelmed by lust. You feel his cock still pulsing inside of you as you get even wetter.

"Look at this perfect cunt. You're so full of my cum, damn, you can't ever get enough of it, can you? Fucking cum slut. Look what you make me do. Just came inside of you but I can't stop fucking this perfect cunt. You want to drain me. Are you proud of yourself, hm? Making me so fucking hard in public and teasing me like the whore that you are."

"Fuck, yes, I'm your whore. Your slave. I'm so close, please–" you mutter deliriously while your fingers and the pearls are rubbing against your clit in a wet, nasty mess of your fluids and his cum. You come hard around him once again, strangling his spent, sensitive cock in your tight grasp and hear him grunting, his grip on your hips tightens and his whole body jerks, but he really can’t have enough.

"Yeah. Yeah. Come on my fucking cock, whore. Let me feel it." he encourages you, gritting those words between his teeth, fighting his own oversensitivity, so addicted to the way you feel around him.

He doesn't stop fucking you, not even after your orgasm. He keeps railing you relentlessly. You bring your hand to your mouth and suck your fingers, tasting the bitterness of his cum blended with the slightly salty taste of your fluids on your tongue. Its taste is addicting, the scent heady and intoxicating in the best way possible.

"You taste so good, Mando. We taste so good together," you drawl, overwhelmed by pleasure.

"Yeah, I bet we do," he grabs a handful of your hair and pulls it to lift your head up, giving it to you even harder, making your eyes roll back in your head. You are screaming, completely entranced by the way his cock is still pumping hard inside of you.

"So damn loud. You like being fucked like this, hm?"

He hits even harder from this angle, keeping you nice and still for him to use as he pleases. You're so busy screaming that you can't even reply to him.

"Yeah. Scream as loud as you want. Let me hear how much you want it. I like it."

You can feel his cum dripping down your legs with every thrust, hearing the sloppy, squelching sounds your bodies make. Mando can't even restrain himself anymore, he’s moaning and sighing at how much he's enjoying it. Your cunt is spasming around him, turned on at the way he sounds.

"You like it, hm? To reduce me like this?" he says in between thrusts.

The truth is that yes, you do. You love making the Mandalorian falter with your teasing, making him so desperate and boiling with lust, he has to leave business to fuck you hard, so hard that any coherent thought leaves your mind. You love it when you can feel the man under all that beskar, when he makes you feel like the most important and beautiful thing in the galaxy.

"Yeah, you do," he answers himself as he slows his rhythm, slipping out of you completely only to slowly bury himself inside of you to the hilt, enjoying the view and feeling of his cock entering into your cunt dripping with his cum.

You bite your lip to muffle your screams just to hear him moaning and sighing as he feels the welcoming warmth of your cunt.

“Mando. Mando, please,” you beg as you feel your legs impatiently shaking as his shaft rubs that perfect spot inside of you with each thrust.

“What?”

“Harder. Please?” you beg, subjugated by that perfect teasing.

He slams into you so deeply that you feel it pulsing against your cervix.

“What? Like this? Hm?” he says as he starts to jackhammer you.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” you chant as you resume touching your clit.

“Greedy whore. Ready for another one? I'm not stopping.”

“Mmmm,” you can only reply as you feel another wave of overwhelming pleasure approaching.

You hear him panting as he gives you a few more violent, deep thrusts, driving you over the edge one more time.

“Yeah. Take it – fucking t-take–” he grunts when he feels your walls clenching around his cock, your orgasm pushing him over the edge, too.

A loud, violent snarl rips through his lips as he comes, filling you with his white, thick load once again. The grip of his hands around your hips turns to steel, your eyes roll up so high all you can see is pitch black as he keeps pumping his cock into you as you both ride your high. The feeling completely obliterates you, turning your body and mind into a helpless, exhausted mess.

A huge, satisfied grin forms on your face as you feel him slowly slip out of you and his cum starts dripping down your cunt and legs.

“Good work," he pants "now be a good girl and wait for me while I go back there. Don’t move one muscle and maybe we will pick up where we left off,” he says as he tucks his spent cock in his cum stained pants, not giving a shit about it, looking at the mess he made of you, disrupted and leaking with his seed. Wrecked, used, marked. His.

819 notes · View notes

giyuuslittleslave · 2 months

Text

Giyuu Tomioka X Pregnant! Reader

Giyuu never once in his life expected to have a wife much less a child on the way, so when you told him you were expecting he thought it was a big fat prank and stood there waiting for the sike.

You: “I’m expecting!”

Him: “…”

You: “are you not excited?”

Him: “Oh…you were being serious. My apologies I was waiting for you to say ‘April fools’ or something of the sort.”

You: “it’s the middle of July Giyuu…”

He would not show much excitement on the outside but on the inside he was extremely happy, worried, but happy. He spent most of his time searching for items to buy for his unborn child over the months you were pregnant. on his missions, whenever he would pass markets or any little shopping area, he would stop there on his way back home and pick up anything he thought was cute for the baby.

You told him in your second trimester that if the baby was a boy you could name him and if it was a girl he could name her. He made sure you had regular visits to shinobu’s estate and if you were not feeling up to it he would make her walk all the way from her estate to his so you could have your checkup there. He was completely enamored by you during your pregnancy, even more so than when you had just fallen in love with each other. He adored the changes in your body, like the swell of your breasts with milk and the slight widening of your hips. He especially liked when you would call on him to massage your breasts whenever they were feeling tender, he does not enjoy your pain but he does love touching tits.

He made sure that your futon was extra comfortable at night and even acquired more comfortable pillows and bedding for it, he was barely asleep during the night always listening to your breathing and monitoring the rise in your chest as you slept, he made sure that you were most comfortable and stayed to himself during the night unless you wanted him to cuddle or spoon you, to which he gladly obliged.

He spoiled you rotten during your pregnancy and always made sure that your needs and all your wants were met. You wanted a food combination that was only acquirable by walking three miles downhill to the nearest market? He’s walking three miles down hill to the nearest market with a pouch filled with gold coins, making sure to pick up extra things for both you and the baby.

In your third trimester Giyuu was a little bit on edge. He realized that the final battle was coming up sooner than he had expected and he was starting to worry and get scared that he might not be there to raise your child with you. So late at night after he’s made sure that you were comfortable in bed he would get up and go outside shirtless to train his ass off by himself, his old crow nested in a tree watching his every move while trying to stay awake. He would take a quick shower and slip back in bed at the crack of dawn before you woke up to make it looked like he slept the whole night, he would get three hours of sleep a night tops.

One night you finally catch him in the act.

“Dinner was great as always honey.” He kissed your forehead as he slipped into bed with you at 9 pm, you hummed in response and closed your eyes, pretending to sleep.

Ten minutes or so later, Giyuu slowed lifted himself from the futon and took up his blade, he tiptoed outside of the estate and went into the back yard to start training again. You got up after three minutes of his absence and tiptoed your way to the backyard. There he was, swinging his sword at the air as sweat dripped down his body. You stood at the door with you hands crossed under your breasts as you stared at him, he doesn’t seem to notice you.

He had dropped his guard around you and overtime he just stopped being on edge whenever he knew you were around, so he hadn’t noticed you because of how comfortable he was around you, you weren’t a threat.

However after a few minutes of standing there, your feet began to hurt and you cleared your throat to get his attention. He stopped in his tracks and his eyes widened a bit, he slowly turned to face you with a look on his face that could only be described as pure guilt, you know when you catch a child doing something they’re aren’t supposed to be doing and they make that face? Yeah that was Giyuu, he placed his blade on the ground beside his and rubbed his left elbow with his right palm, avoiding your gaze.

“Giyuu…you’re overworking yourself. We talked about this…” your voice was soft, like butter. He looked up into your eyes and sighed, “I know but-“

You cut him off, “aht aht. No buts. I don’t want you working anymore than you need to. You train enough during the day okay? Please just…come back to bed.” You yawn and rub your eyes, clearly tired. He walks up to you and tucks your hair behind your ear, before brushing his nose against yours, he places a haste kiss your lips and smiles. “Okay.” You smile back at him and nod, “okay then.” You try to pull him inside but he stays still, you turn and give him a weird look. “I’m sweaty.” He says, you roll your eyes and wrap your arms around his neck, “I can handle a little sweat Giyuu, plus your going to be covered with a lot more than just sweat next week when we do that water birth.” You sigh at the thought of doing a water birth, it kind of weirds you out, but you’re gonna do it to make Giyuu happy since he suggested it.

He chuckles and nods “I guess you’re right. Let’s head to bed then.” You chuckle along with him and kiss his lips once more, “yeah let’s do that, and no more sneaking out okay?” He smiles lovingly at you while staring into your beautiful eyes, “Okay.” He hugs you and rubs his hand over your belly you look down at his hands and smile, he hesitates for a moment before speaking.

“If…if the baby is a girl, I would like to name her something similar to my sister, to honor her.” You nod and look up at him waiting for him to finish. “If she is a girl, I would like her name to be Tsuyuri.” You smiled softly at him and nodded, his look softened and he smiled back at you before kissing you three times quickly on your lips. He lifted you bridal style and you giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck as he carried you towards your shared futon.

Lemme know if you want a part two😊🤍

#tomioka giyu x reader #giyuu tomioka #demon slayer tomioka #demon slayer fanfic #kny giyuu #anime x reader #pregnancy #animecore #kimetsu no yaiba #pregnant!reader #wife!reader #smut #giyuu x you #giyuu smut

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sharkiethrts · 1 year

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[𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙡 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙫𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙮]

𝘗𝘙𝘖𝘔𝘗𝘛: 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘥𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘦?

g/n reader

: jing yuan and reader are not in an established relationship, jing yuan is pining (ineffectively) at the reader

: 446 words

Qingzu did her best to not designate her attention to the elephant in the room today in the Divine Foresight but duty calls. It started when the general asks for a mirror, blathering about the apparent magnification in the front camera of phones. Even the most developed technologies have their flaws, as does all of nature, his laugh resounds across the hall with his talk.

She didn't understand his intentions with the mirror initially, but now that she does: "Jing Yuan, just in case you have forgotten, the documents piled up in front of you require your attention as well," when the man mentioned doesn't react, "And as for the concave of your facial features, please leave that interest at home."

Surprisingly, the man finally snaps out of his diligent distraction with a view that the Counselor has never seen before: red ears. However, the general's recovery is quick, much to Qingzu's amusement. But to her chagrin, it did not stop the General's shameless inquiry, "Am I handsome, Qingzu?"

"...Please understand that I am not a present figure in the fashion industry nor do I have any intention on recommending the General of Luofu Xianzhou to Xianzhou magazines any time soon."

The guards guarding at the gates of the Divine Foresight bite their tongues; it wasn't like they weren't used to the General's occasional remarkable behaviours, but vanity is certainly a new look. After all, the general doesn't even bother to brush his hair in the morning, letting birds build a temporary residency in his hair whenever he falls asleep. It's a miracle that there isn't an ecosystem building up in the general's hair, to say the least.

So, what's with the sudden change? Everyone in the Divine Foresight is in common agreement that the General is... in love.

And it makes sense: he has been caught outside the Divine Foresight more. Well, he's rarely in the Divine Foresight, really- but his frequent "breathers" are often at his own garden, where weeds pile up due to the General's negligence and how demanding his work can be (the general also claims to not need cleaners at home, that his title doesn't need to worry the lives of others). However, just recently, the General often strolls about at the market places and well known tourist sights of the Xianzhou Luofu, sometimes returning with an uncharacteristically large smile.

"...Is that a yes or a no, Qingzu?"

Qingzu ignores his further probing, "That reminds me (it really didn't, it's just a desperate attempt at deterring the general's awkward intentions), our friends from the Astral Express seems to be running a store- 'Express Eatery', was it?" She watches as the general's gaze light up, "promising foods from all around the universe, foreign to the native xianzhou's gaze. Cosmic Fried Rice is particularly famous for it's savoury mix of vegetables and-"

"- Where is it?" The general stands up abruptly, eyes shining more than ever.

"At the gate of the Central Starskiff Haven- you can't miss it," Qingzu answers with a steadfast response, just glad to have conducted Jing Yuan's attention away from her.

The general leaves almost immediately, taking his pouch of Strale with him. But it seems to Qingzu's celebration is short lived, because the general whom is about to leave turns to ask another difficult question, "Do I look satisfactory? How is my hair? It isn't too unruly, I hope?"

Qingzu clenches her fists behind her back, "Why don't you ask [name] that yourself once you reach the eatery?"

The ears of the general turns vibrant red again.

#jing yuan #honkai star rail #jing yuan hsr #jing yuan x reader #hsr #jingyuan x reader #jingyuan #jing yuan has a crush on reader #jing yuan headcanons #jing yuan scenarios #honkai jing yuan #honkai star rail x reader #jing yuan imagines #sharkie works ; jing yuan #sharkie works ; all honkai

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sourkannas · 20 days

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Uraume x gn! reader

slight Yorozu x Sukuna but thats just Yorozu, straight fluff with miscommunicatation between Uraume and Sukuna, Sukuna is a worried big brother figure to Uraume, no gender mention

>o<

Sukuna is perplexed, and he can't say he feels that way often. And it's starts with the person standing by the door, Uraume, his one and only servant.

For weeks now, Uraume has been disappearing from the estate. It must've started right after winter ended, when spring was finally blooming into existence. Uraume would deal with their duties and tell Sukuna they're leaving the manor. Then they'll be gone for hours on days Sukuna didn't call them back.

To Sukuna, he couldn't wrap his head what Uraume could be doing. Before, they focused on him and only him, nobody else was worth the time of day, but now, Sukuna felt like an after thought.

Not in the bad way, he's asked every servant about what Uraume might be doing (and killed them when their answers didn't seem Uraume–ish at all, how do they not know how their boss acts?!). So now, Sukuna has to resort to 'weakling methods', asking Yorozu.

Gods he could gag right now, as Yorozu had sprawled her half nude body on Sukuna's table, bare flesh pressing against the dark brown wood.

"Husband~" She cooed, kicking her legs and giggling. "What is it that you need? Perhaps," She pouted and blinked eagerly at Sukuna, who blinked blandly. "You, you finally want to connsumate our marri—"

"I need a favor." He said sternly, shoving her body to the other side of the table to continue his work. "Uraume is acting..."

"Stupid? Dumb? Unfit to serve you? You want me to ta—"

"No. I need you to tail Uraume with me." He swallowed as he looked at Yorozu's beady eyes, she looked like a bug. "Consider this....a...hmm, outing toge—"

"A DATE!??" She did nothing but squeal, hopping off the table. "Oh, I do!" She chirped, dancing around Sukuna. Regrets were made this day.

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

It was a still day Uraume thought, over looking the manor before picking up a money pouch and walking out of the estate, unaware of the two sorcerers tailing them.

Yorozu and Sukuna silently followed Uraume, their small figure passing by in crowds as they walked with purpose.

Yorozu frowned softly, tilting her head. "They went straight past the market place, I thought they were buying things." She hummed, watching as Uraume passed stores and vendors alike.

Sukuna huffed as they followed, his two extra arms concelled in his robes. "They don't return with anything." He remarked, his second face covered by a veil, Yorozu shrugged.

"They could have hidden it in their robes?" She suggested, watching as Uraume walked right through the towns gate, heading off in the direction of the bamboo forest. "So far," She huffed before she turned to Sukuna with a pout. "Hey, when is this date happening?" Sukuna grimaced and kept on walking after Uraume.

"After we find out what Uraume is doing." He said, Uraume walking through the barely there paths. Yorozu squealed and jumped about, Sukuna's lips became a thin line and he walked with out her.

◆◆◆◆◆◆◆

Uraume finally reaches their destination, pushing past baby bamboo shoots as you like to call them, finding you knelt over your garden.

"[name], I'm here." They say softly, a ghost of a smile on their lips as they approach, you sit up quickly and beam.

"Ume! Ume!" Suddenly, their body is in your arms, but neither of you care. "I was worried you won't going to make it! Are you alright?" A flurry of questions escape your lips as you happily bring Uraume inside, leaving to baffled sorcerers out.

●●●●●●●●

Yorozu and Sukuna are both perplexed, before Yorozu smiled and cooed. "I see, it was young love all along!" She chimed, but Sukuna was blinking blandly. Did—did this mean he had to give Uraume the talk?!

"C'mon husband! Our date night awaits!" Yorozu cheered and while he doesn't do this often, he finds himself being dragged away from your little hut in the bamboo forest. He blinks once, then twice, then sighs and lets Yorozu drag him along, he'll need destruction to get through that talk he'll have with Uraume.

Bonus!!!

Uraume sets down the large tray of ribs infront of Sukuna, everything was cooked to perfection, as it always is with them. But Uraume couldn't help but notice how, grim, Sukuna looked. His hands didn't move from his lap and even stomach mouth stayed still and quiet.

"My lord," They start, soft and gentle in case Sukuna is in a foul mood. "Is the food not to your liking?" Uraume asked, already thinking of different dishes to make instead.

Sukuna sighs and gives Uraume a grimace, his eyes narrow and lips tight. "Let me ask you a question Uraume," Sukuna demanded, but Uraume nodded anyway.

"Of course my lord."

"Do you, do you know how babies are made?" Sukuna asked, quick and gruff and the question makes Uraume freeze.

'How babies are made? Is my lord unaware of how babies are made?!'

'Look at the expression, Uraume would be a bunny in a world of wolves without me.'

Uraume coughed and rubbed their chest to help their airways. "Why do you ask my lord?" Uraume asked, but their mind was swirling. 'Surely he knows how babies are made, don't doubt your lord Uraume!'

Sukuna gave them a somber look. "Listen up, when two people want to have intense pleasure they———"

Uraume never wanted Sukuna to shut up more.

"—and that's how brats are made, now that you know, I expect you to be safe." He said, assured in himself, feeding the ribs to stomach mouth and walking away. Uraume stood there dazed, perhaps they'll tell you tomorrow.

#uraume x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk x male reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x y/n #jjk x fem!reader #jjk x gn!reader #gender neutral reader #uraume

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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 1 month

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𓅨 Sleepy Bitch Syndrome: Chapter Seven

Sleepy Bitch Syndrome: You've got narcolepsy and have been visiting the Dreaming daily for years. Then its Lord and King finally return and he doesn't know quite what to think of you.

Warnings: None.

To Note: Morpheus/Dream x Narcoleptic!Reader, for you dear @aralezinspace.

Word Count: ~2.9k

Previous | Masterlist | Next

As you stand at the edge of the lake, Morpheus' words echo in your mind. The peacefulness of the scene is interrupted by a gentle tug at your consciousness. The next moment, you find yourself back in the palace, surrounded by bustling staff.

They flutter around you, their excitement palpable. You catch snippets of their conversation as they work, their voices light and musical. A celebration. Dressing up. Well if they were so excited you’d go along with them!

"The celebration day in the market! It's always such a grand event."

"And we finally have someone to prepare for it!"

You can’t help but smile at their enthusiasm. One of them—a young woman with bright eyes and quick hands—gently guides you to a chair. She gestures for you to sit, her face alight with joy.

"We have something special for you," she says, her tone full of anticipation.

Another staff member brings out a dress unlike any you've ever seen. It's woven from stars and galaxies, the fabric shimmering and shifting as if alive. You reach out to touch it, feeling the cool, silky texture under your fingers.

"It's beautiful," you whisper, awe-struck.

The young woman beams at you. "It was crafted especially for this occasion. We thought it fitting for someone so unique."

They help you into the dress with practiced ease, each movement precise and gentle. As they fasten the last clasp, you catch a glimpse of yourself in a nearby mirror. The dress hugs your form perfectly, the celestial patterns swirling around you in an enchanting dance.

"How do I look?" you ask, turning to face them.

The staff step back to admire their work, their faces lighting up with pride.

"Like a dream," one of them says softly.

Another staff member approaches with a delicate tiara adorned with tiny stars that twinkle softly. You wanted to tell them that it was a little overboard, but they were so excited to tend to you, you didn't have the heart to say no. They place it gently on your head, adjusting it until it's just right.

"There," they say, stepping back once more. "Now you're ready."

The palace staff usher you outside, their excitement bubbling over. The bridge connecting the palace to the town is lined with lanterns that glow like captured fireflies, casting a warm, inviting light. You hurry across, eager to experience your first festival in the Dreaming. As you step into the market square, the air buzzes with life. Stalls stretch as far as you can see, each more fantastical than the last.

To your left, a vendor sells bottles filled with dreams. The glass containers shimmer with colors that shift and swirl, reflecting scenes of soaring through clouds or swimming with bioluminescent creatures in deep oceans. You watch as a child selects a bottle, her eyes wide with wonder. She uncorks it and is instantly enveloped in a soft, radiant glow.

"Best dreams in the land," the vendor boasts, his grin as wide as the sky.

Next to him, another stall offers nightmares. Unlike the dreams, these bottles are dark and opaque, their contents hidden from view. A hooded figure examines one carefully before nodding and exchanging coins for it.

"Why would anyone want a nightmare?" you wonder aloud.

The vendor catches your eye and smiles knowingly. "Not all nightmares are bad. Some teach us valuable lessons."

You continue down the row, drawn by the rich scent of exotic spices from a nearby stall. The vendor there waves you over enthusiastically.

"Try this," he urges, handing you a small pouch filled with vibrant red powder. "It's made from the dreams of ancient warriors."

You take a pinch and sprinkle it on your tongue. A rush of heat floods your senses, followed by visions of epic battles and heroic feats. Your heart races with adrenaline and you hand itches to snatch a blade from your waist and toy with it. A blade which you do not have.

"Impressive," you manage to say, breathless, looking down to double check that you indeed, do not have a sword or dagger hanging from the skirt of your dress.

Further along, a group of musicians plays instruments crafted from moonbeams and stardust. Their melodies weave through the air, enchanting everyone who hears them. You pause to listen, feeling the music resonate deep within your soul.

A little further down the path, an artist paints canvases with scenes from people’s dreams. Each brushstroke seems to bring the image to life—trees that sway in an unseen breeze, rivers that shimmer like liquid silver. You watch in awe as she transforms a blank canvas into a vivid dreamscape.

"Would you like me to paint yours?" she asks without looking up from her work.

You consider it for a moment before shaking your head gently. You didn't quite feel like yourself and didn't want a portrait to reflect that. "Not today."

She nods in understanding and continues painting.

As you wander through the market, you realize that every vendor offers not just goods but experiences—each one unique and deeply personal. You are so glad you decided to come. To think you might have missed this! The air hums with magic and possibility, making it clear why this celebration is so beloved by all who attend.

As you stroll through the bustling market, you catch a whiff of something sweet and buttery. Your stomach rumbles in response, reminding you that you haven't eaten since arriving in the Dreaming. Following the tantalizing aroma, you find a stall adorned with golden pastries. Each one sparkles as if dusted with tiny flecks of sunlight.

"Care to try one?" a gravelly voice asks.

You turn to see Mervyn standing behind the counter. His eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles, a rare sight for someone usually so stern.

"Don't mind if I do," you reply, reaching for a pastry.

Mervyn chuckles and hands it to you with a flourish. "Golden flour, harvested from the fields of dawn. Best you'll ever taste."

You take a bite and your taste buds sing in delight. The pastry is warm and flaky, with a hint of honey that lingers on your tongue. Mervyn watches you with amusement as you savor each bite.

"Good, huh?" he asks, leaning against the counter.

"Better than good," you say between mouthfuls. Did golden flour actually have gold in it? The glimmering flecks were suspicious enough but the treat tasted so good! "Heavenly."

He grabs another pastry and breaks it in half, offering you one piece. You accept it gratefully, and proceed to gobble it down. As you finish the last crumb, something catches your eye. Across the square, half-hidden in shadow, stands Morpheus. His dark jacket billows slightly in the breeze, and his piercing eyes scan the crowd with an intensity that makes your breath catch.

Mervyn follows your gaze and grunts. "Always watching, never joining."

You nod absently, unable to tear your eyes away from Morpheus. He moves with an almost ethereal grace, slipping through the throng without drawing attention. For a moment, his gaze locks onto yours, and a shiver runs down your spine.

"He's got his reasons," Mervyn continues, pulling your attention back to him. "Always does." But is that not lonely?

You decide to go over to Morpheus and say hello so he isn't alone. Leaving the warmth of Mervyn's side, you weave through the crowd, each step bringing you closer to the Dream Lord that has occupied your thoughts since you have met him.

As you approach, Morpheus turns his head slightly, acknowledging your presence with a subtle nod. His eyes, dark as the night sky, hold a depth that makes you feel both seen and understood in ways words could never capture.

"Enjoying the festival?" he asks, his voice smooth and velvety, resonating with an otherworldly quality. His eyes drink in your figure, lingering on the dress you wear for the evening—a flowing, ethereal gown that seems to shimmer with the light of a thousand stars. His stars look so beautiful wrapped around your body.

You smile, feeling a pleasant warmth spread through you under his gaze. "I am. It’s beautiful, Morpheus. You’ve truly outdone yourself."

He steps closer, the space between you shrinking, his presence both magnetic and overwhelming. "Not as beautiful as you," he replies softly, his eyes tracing the lines of your dress. "The gown suits you exquisitely."

A rush of heat rises to your cheeks, the compliment making your heart flutter. "Thank you," you say, your voice a bit breathless. "It’s an honor to be here, to see the Dreaming like this. And this dress, I've never worn anything like it before, it's incredible," you reply, feeling a flutter in your chest. "But I noticed you standing here alone. Thought I'd keep you company."

A small smile tugs at the corner of the corner of his lips. "Your presence is appreciated."

You feel a flutter in your chest as his gaze lingers on yours, the intensity of his eyes making you feel like you're the only person in the crowded market square. His smile, though subtle, holds a hint of warmth that draws you in.

"Tell me more about this festival," you ask, curiosity getting the better of you. "What's its significance in the Dreaming?"

Morpheus' eyes light up, and he leans in, his voice taking on a narrative quality. "The Festival of Dreams is a celebration of the Dreaming's power. It's a time when the veil between reality and the Dreaming is at its thinnest, allowing us to tap into the deepest desires of those who sleep."

As he speaks, his words paint vivid pictures in your mind. You can almost see the threads of the Dreaming weaving together, connecting the sleepers to the world of the awake. A shame they won't remember when they will wake.

"The festival has been celebrated for eons," Morpheus continues, his voice weaving a spell around you. "When my realm is at it's most powerful and dynamic."

You are captivated as Morpheus shares stories of the festivals that came before, at least when he was present. His fervor for his realm is contagious, and you feel yourself caught up in his excitement. A ruler that truly cared about his people, his realm.

As the night wears on, Morpheus glances up at the sky, his eyes locking onto something beyond the lanterns. "Come," he says, his voice low and husky. "I want to show you something."

He offer's you his hand, and that makes your stomach flutter. It wasn't like you were anything special, just a narcoleptic dream walker.

Morpheus leads you away from the bustling festival, weaving through the crowd with a graceful confidence that only an Endless could possess. You follow closely, your heart racing with excitement and anticipation as you venture further into the realm.

The further you travel from the market square, the more the noise of the festival fades away, replaced by a silence that feels almost reverent. The only sound is the soft swish of your dress and Morpheus's footsteps as he guides you to an open field, where the stars above are reflected in the dewdrops on the grass. You are more than surprised that your heels have yet to cause you pain or discomfort.

"This way," he whispers, gesturing up at the sky.

Your eyes follow, and you gasp in awe as you take in the breathtaking sight before you. The sky above is ablaze with cosmic forces, nebulae and planets breaking apart and reforming in a dance as old as time itself. Well, almost, Father Time predated the cosmos, only just. The colors are unlike anything you've ever seen, shades of indigo and violet mingling with the warm hues of red and gold, casting an ethereal glow over the field.

Morpheus steps closer, his presence both magnetic and overwhelming. A true dichotomy. “This is the true power of the my realm," he murmurs, his voice barely audible above the rustling of the leaves in the wind. "The forces that shape our world, and the worlds of those who sleep. Ever changing and remolding itself to the whims of humanity, much like sand.

You find yourself lost in the beauty of the cosmos, your heart pounding in your chest as you take it all in. Morpheus stands beside you, his gaze fixed on the sky. You can feel his warmth against your side, and the air between you seems to crackle with tension.

"You have a unique perspective," he says softly, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "Most never get to see this world as it truly is."

His words hang heavy in the air, and you can't help but wonder what he means by "unique perspective." Is it because of your ability to walk between dreams? Or that you are mortal? Or is there something else?

Morpheus turns to face you, his eyes locking onto yours. "I am eternally grateful for what you did," he says, his voice low and husky. "When I could not help my people, you stepped in and saved them."

Your heart races at his words, and you feel a flush creeping up your neck. You had only been trying to help them; you never expected him to be so grateful. But there's something else in his eyes—something that makes your stomach flutter and your pulse quicken. Is it admiration? Or something more?

"Thank you," you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just wanted to help."

Morpheus takes a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. "There's more to it than that," he says softly. "You have a connection to this realm—a connection that goes beyond mere dreams."

Your heart skips a beat as he speaks, and you can't help but wonder what he means by that. Do you truly belong here—in the Dreaming—more than in the waking world? And if so, what does that mean for your future?

Morpheus reaches out and gently cups your cheek in his hand, his thumb tracing the line of your jawline. You feel a jolt of electricity pass between you as his fingers brush against your skin, and for a moment, everything else fades away except for the two of you standing beneath the stars above.

"You are special," he whispers, his breath warm against your skin. "And I want to show you just how special you are."

His words makes your stomach flip as he leans closer—so close that your lips are almost touching—and for a moment, everything else fades away except for the two of you beneath the cosmic dance above. Soft stardust shimmering down like a drizzle of rain. But before your lips can meet, Morpheus pulls back suddenly, leaving you breathless and confused. What the hell just happened? Had you really been about to kiss an Endless??

You wake up in bed for once.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you sit up, gasping for breath. The room around you is dimly lit, the only light coming from the soft glow of the moon through your window. Your fingers tremble as you reach up to touch your cheek, half-expecting to feel Morpheus' lingering touch.

But you're alone, in your bed, back in the waking world.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. The dream felt so real, so vivid. You can still feel the electric charge of Morpheus' presence, the warmth of his hand on your cheek. The memory sends a shiver down your spine.

You swing your legs over the side of the bed and stand up, needing to shake off the remnants of the dream. Your room feels strangely empty, as if a piece of it is missing now that you're awake. You walk to the window and look out at the quiet street below, your mind still buzzing with the images of the festival and the cosmic dance in the sky.

As you gaze out at the night, you hear a soft rustling behind you. You turn quickly, half-expecting to see Morpheus standing there. But there's no one. Just your room, filled with shadows and moonlight.

You let out a sigh and run a hand through your hair. "Get a grip," you mutter to yourself. "you're narcoleptic not a hopeless romantic, it was just a dream."

Okay maybe you are a hopeless romantic….

But deep down, you know it was more than that. You've always had a connection to the Dreaming—a connection that feels stronger now than ever before. And Morpheus' words linger in your mind: "You are special."

You close your eyes and take another deep breath, trying to center yourself. When you open them again, you notice something on your nightstand—a small vial filled with shimmering dust. You pick it up carefully, turning it over in your hand.

"Stardust," you whisper, recognizing it from the festival.

How did it get here? Did Morpheus leave it for you? Or is this another trick of the Dreaming?

Your fingers tighten around the vial as a sense of determination fills you. If there's one thing you've learned from your journeys through dreams, it's that nothing happens by chance. Everything has meaning. Always.

You place the vial back on your nightstand and climb back into bed, pulling the covers up around you. As you close your eyes, you make a silent promise to yourself: you'll chase after whatever this is, regardless of your narcolepsy. Sleep comes quickly this time, pulling you back into its embrace like an old friend. And it is. The stars above twinkle softly as if whispering secrets just for you.

Date Published: 8/21/24

Last Edit: 8/21/24

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#morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless #dream the endless #sandman x reader #lord morpheus #dream the endless x reader #morpheus #the sandman netflix #the sandman

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dreamerschroniclesofstories · 10 months

Text

Crawl home to her

A/N: thank you so much for your love on my previous work “ Goodbye, Tommy Shelby”, i appreciate it so much, i will officially be starting the sequel next week. i'm currently very busy with end of term uni assignments. For this fic you are about to read, i would recommend listening to work song by hozier.

I DON'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR YOU TO REPOST THIS ON ANY OTHER SITE AND TO TRANSLATE THIS.

Summery: who would of thought a conversation with Polly, after another war riddled nightmare, could cause tommys love to come back to him.

Word count: 1,748

The dark. Tommy's worst enemy since the war. It isn't the dark that scares him, its the noises of the consistent banging of shovels and the pained yells of men coming from his walls that taunt him every time he closes his eyes. Usually, the opium he keeps hidden in his draw stops the noises for a few hours.

But not tonight.

Tommy gasps as he opens his eyes and sits up, the room spinning as he slowly sits on the edge of his bed, putting his hands on his head, trying to calm down, his heart races inhumanly fast, he swears one day his heart would burst through his chest.

Like every other night, Tommy stands up, grabs a cigarette from his pouch on his bedside table and leaves him room. the floorboards creak as he walks past the other bedrooms that hold his two brothers, Arthur and Finn, and the bedroom that holds his aunt Polly. The old wooden floor has been shaped over time by each sole of the Shelby family, from generations of living in the house.

Tommy walks into the kitchen and stops in his tracks when he sees Polly sat at the table, he raises an eyebrow as he takes the cigarette from between his lips, continuing to walk to the small table that holds the whiskey. He pours himself a glass.

" why are you up poll?" he asks confused, then gulps down the whiskey from the glass.

" much like you Thomas , nightmares" she whispers, holding her mug of tea in both hands, making sure the warm steam hits her face so it could protect her from the coldness of the night.

" i don't know what you're on about pol" he grumbles, pouring himself another glass of whiskey, then he walks over to the table and sits down across from Polly.

Polly raises an eyebrow, watching Tommy as she sips her tea. Polly knew Tommy was lying, since he was child she could sense when he wasn't telling the truth. He knew this, that's why Tommy chuckles quietly.

" and you pol?" he asks knowingly, wanting to change the subject, leaning back in his seat then takes a drag of his cigarette, seconds later blowing out the smoke.

The small kitchen area was filling up with smoke. Polly delicately places her mug down onto the table, grabbing a cigarette from her own pouch.

"i have the sight Thomas, i have nightmare almost every night" Polly explains, then lights the cigarette before taking her first drag "your's is about the war" she determined.

" it's not serious Polly, every man that came back from France. mentally never leaves" tommy whispers.

polly smirks " yes but most of those men have someone at home to help them, you did but you pushed her away" she points out.

Tommy immediately tenses up, he has not spoken to or about her since before the war. By her, he means his childhood best friend, Alice. They had met during school when Alice was left out on the first day of school and Tommy noticed and went over to Alice to talk to her. Since then, if you saw one you knew the other would be close by.

However, a week before the war. Alice and Tommy had an argument after Alice found out Tommy enlisted. They did not talk it out in time before Tommy left. When Tommy came back, he was a changed man, he did not want Alice involved in the life he had become involved with.

" don't pol" Tommy warns.

" she's a seamstress now Tommy, has her own little shop on the other side of town, sometimes i see her at the markets" she shared.

When Tommy and Alice were teens, Alice always talked about making dress's when she left school. However, she was always self-conscious about the dresses she made and use to show them to Tommy. He was her number one fan, he use to encourage her to sell them, Tommy was the only person who believed in herself.

Tommy smiles slightly " she does?" his eyes sparkle slightly, causing Polly to chuckle.

Polly nods " she lives two streets behind her, next door to Mrs. dingle, the baker"Polly explains.

Tommy stands up and grabs his coat, not saying a word to Polly as he leaves.

Alice's flat

A sleepless night, in Alice's mind, was a chance to mediate about the previous day and the day that was coming. Mediation helps Alice to feel the energy of the world sparkling at her finger tips. The energy asks her to let them in and help her dreams become a nighttime reality.

It was one of them nights for Alice, she sat on her one person couch by her window, watching as the stars twinkle down onto small health, making natural guide lights for the men going home from a late nigh at work. Alice found the night sky beautiful, she finds that the stars look like snowflakes in the night, yet they are forever still. Alice found it amazing that for centuries and millenia's, everyone had seen the same constellations.

Alice stood up, going to her kitchen to pour herself another cup of tea, the sound of a knock on her door makes her flinch. It is two in the morning, who would be knocking on her door.

Alice picks up her gun from her kitchen draw and walks to the front door, even though she doesn't speak to Tommy anymore, she knew she needed protection encase someone who knows they were friends comes after.

She takes the safety off her gun and begins to open the door, as the door inches open her heart feels like it was about to burst from anxiety.

Alice frowns when she sees a man standing in front of her door with his head tilting down, his peaked cap covering his eyes but she knew who it was immediately.

"Tommy?"she whispers, her voice soft but also shaky. They had seen each other this close since before the war.

Tommy lifts his head, making eye contact with Alice, His eyes are the same. They were the colour of every dancing sky, filled with infinite hues of that are illuminated by newborn light.

He coughs slightly " can i come in?" his voice vibrating through her bones, causing a much welcomed and missed vibration.

Alice nods and moves to the side, allowing Tommy to walk into her small but homely flat. He takes off her cap, Alice closes the door then walks back over to her kitchen.

"Would you like a drink?" Alice asks, looking over at Tommy, who was taking his coat off.

"whiskey?" he asks, sitting at her small dinning table.

Alice smiles and nods, she takes the bottle of Irish whiskey from the back of her cupboard, then takes the whiskey cup from the cupboard as well before walking over to Tommy.

"are you in trouble?" she questions, placing the glass in-front of Tommy then pours the whiskey slowly.

Tommy frowns " i'm not, why would you think that?" he asks confused.

" you are Thomas Shelby, you have a lot of enemies and we have not spoken for nearly five years Tommy, so why are you here?" she points out, sitting down across from him.

" i heard you are a seamstress" he states, taking out a cigarette from his pouch, lighting it. All the whilst, not breaking eye contact with Alice.

She chuckles " you came here at nearly three in the morning to talk about my job?" Alice raises an eyebrow.

Tommy smirks slightly " There's only so much a man can take of his four walls" he admits.

Alice hums " having nightmares? I've heard a lot of men that came back from France have them, some so bad they go to the hospital" she whispers, her eyes now full of worry.

" i'm Thomas Shelby, you don't have to worry about me" he jokes.

Alice rolls her eyes and stands up, walking around the table, pulling out the chair beside Tommy and sits down, grabbing his hands gently " you were my best friend Tommy, of course i'm going to worry about you. Don't give me the Shelby bullshit" she affirmed.

Tommy smiles for the first time since he came back from France "glad to see you have changed"

Alice smiles softly " i'd never changed Tommy, i'll forever be me, for you" she admits.

Both of them did not say a word to each-other after that, the tension was thick between them. Tommy gently lifts his hand, stroking his thumb down Alice's cheekbone down to her lips, her pale skin was like the silk of the petals of white roses in the summer. Tommy glances down at her lips, his thumb gliding over her plump bottom lip. Alice inhaled softly at the touch, her lips were as good as her eyes. Painting a picture of her emotions.

"i love you" Alice blurts out.

In the stillness of the moment that follows her confession, there so much both of them can say. Alice doesn't regret what she say, sudden moments are a risk but sometimes they are necessary to get what you want. So instead of tommy replying, he gently puts his hand on her cheek and pulls her in. Kissing her.

Kissing her softly but with passionate purpose. Kissing her, immediately stopped the sound of shovels and the sound of mens screams.

Theres a muffled sound of shock from Alice before she softens into the kiss. Her delicate hand finding her place on the back of tommys neck , her lips move against his, as if she was whispering a question over and over again for him. He pulls back slowly, thinking she would want him too.However, Alice follows him, chasing after his lips. Her glazed eyes opening.

in that kiss, was the sweetness of their passion, a million loving thoughts condensed into one moment.

Alice smiles happily, looking between tommys eyes, her eyes full of love. If any one moment in Alice's life were to ancher her soul , creating a tie to this reality. it would be the moment she fell in love with him. She realised that she had a protector born for pure love and how could she not love that? How could she not love all of Thomas Shelby. He is the rope and the knot to her vessel that is now in safe mooring. For this, she will forever be his.

Alice strokes tommys cheek softly " you've come home to me"

A/N: EEEK! i am so proud of this one. Please leave a like, comment and/or re-blog. It is all appreciated xx

#peaky blinders fanfic #tommy shelby imagines #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fandom #peaky blinders masterlist #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby fic #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby fluff #tommy shelby fluff #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #thomas shelby angst #tommy shelby angst

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alexkaneinq · 6 months

Text

Rabbit's Greed

Rating: Explicit

Contents: Wolf/Bunny, shifters, size difference, rimming, anal sex, knotting, multiple orgasms, praise kink, prostate milking. Light belly bulge, cum inflation, scent kink.

Word Count: 7,423

As a rabbit shifter, Boyd has never been taken seriously in the village. Of course he hasn't been. He's small, barely reaching five foot two, thin as a rail everywhere except his strong legs, and barely noticeable around his brother and sister who took after their ox father. He is small, and like all other small shifters, he is overlooked by most.

And that is perfectly fine by him. No one gives attention to a small bunny darting around large rooms filled with bigger shifters as the evening of revelry starts in the tavern. The Dusty Firefly is a huge tavern, with the first level holding the main bar, the second holding a few private rooms for rent as well as the place where the high-rollers hold their games separate from the common hands of cards and dice that people get up to in the corners of the first level. And the third floor has the rest of the rentable rooms for travelers going through the city. It's a large, lively place where plenty of other creatures come for a night of indulgence, to find companionship, and gamble-- and it's a place where a small, plain rabbit can go unnoticed as he slips through the crowds and slices coin purses from belts.

He's careful, he's been doing this for six years now, and he only ever takes a few coins from each before dropping the pouch near their feet so that when they stand to leave the table, or bar, they find the rest on the floor. Usually they look startled, sheepish maybe, that something like that could happen, relieved that they didn't end up losing the thing entirely, enough so, that if they do notice a bit of money missing, they think it must have been scattered to the floor, and are mostly grateful that more wasn't lost. Boyd hasn't made a name for himself as a thief because he is a rabbit, he is small, and skittish, and incapable of being a threat-- or even an annoyance-- to most other large shifters from predator to prey. That suits him just fine. No one pays him any attention and they can go on pretending that the money he gets selling baskets at market is what lets him live in his little apartment.

Tonight, he knows, will be a good one because spring is right around the corner. Deer have grown their antlers, and everyone is awake from their winter slumber if they chose to slip into it, and they are all desperate to find someone to spend time with in the coming weeks to sate their instincts. Which means that the Firefly will be stuffed to the brim with people who are already too distracted to focus on anything other than finding a partner. He ignores his own need as he prepares for the night. He doesn't have a taste for other rabbits, especially doe, given he doesn't want children or anyone else peeking in on the little life he's carved out for himself. He still makes sure that he puts a bit of effort into his appearance for the night, wearing a loose, open top of pale olive green to make the green bursts in his hazel eyes stand out a bit more, and carefully mussing his curls so that they look appealingly tousled instead of wild, and puts on a pair of dark, tighter trousers that he tucks into his boots before tucking his shirt into the pants so that it bunches up artfully. His belt goes around his waist with his own small leather pouch that hooks with another leather buckle to the accessory, and his daggers, with their blades so small that they're barely as long as his pinky, are slipped into little bracers hidden under his sleeves. He forgoes a cloak even though the early spring air is still chilled, and heads off to the Dusty Firefly.

///

He had been absolutely underestimating how busy it was going to be at the tavern. But in his defense, he really, really didn't know that a new herd of deer would be coming through the town alongside a large pack of wolves. Having so many new faces means he's far less worried about being noticed than he usually is, and as Boyd makes his way through the bar, he manages to take a great deal more coin than he usually manages. By halfway through the evening he thinks he's gotten enough gold to live comfortably in his home for two months. Enough, that it is definitely an unwise risk when he spots one of the wolves stepping in to break up a fight between two stags, both hands away from his sides, his attention clearly away from anything else going on around him, and his purse abandoned at his table with a few of his packmates who are also trying to step in before anyone gets gored.

Boyd darts around the growing conflict and manages to get to the table. There's enough of a commotion that he just gets his hand in the bag and palms a few of the coins. He's fully intending to move away then, but he realizes, with some shock, that the shape of the coins is different. That the half-full pouch is not filled with the round gold coins with the circle in the center, but hexagonal ones with a square. Platinum. Not gold. It's recklessness that has him reaching again, distraction over the possibility of such a big score that leaves him unaware of his surroundings. And when one of the stags goes crashing through the table, he yelps as he's knocked back.

His elbow hits the floor hard and the pain sends his instincts screaming to run, but he's not the only one on the floor from the fight getting so out of hand, and he doesn't want to draw any more attention to himself. Especially not when he sees one of his daggers has slipped from its brace and is laying among the shattered remains of the table.

The two of the wolves alongside Oliver, a fox who works as a bouncer, gets the two stags off the floor and starts to get them out of the building. He's not expecting the third to offer him a hand.

"Are you alright?" The wolf is easily six feet tall. Moon and stars, he might be seven as Boyd looks up, and up, and up, at him even as he crouches down to help him. He has olive-toned skin with a shock of wavy grayish hair that blends into the fur across his ears that is a mix of blacks and browns. A Gray Wolf then, with dark eyes, a long curved nose, and high cheekbones. Pretty features, but when he opens his mouth to speak, Boyd can see the large dangerous teeth glinting behind his lips.

"Uh, I'm okay." He doesn't dare reach for his dagger, instead taking the offered hand and holding the platinum clutched in his other tight. His hand is tiny in the other man's, and as he's pulled up, he pretends that the wolf underestimated his strength and stumbles into him. "Oh!" His head barely comes up to the bottom of his sternum, and he very quickly slips the pilfered coins into his own purse before he starts to straighten up. It's not a surprise to feel the hard planes of muscle beneath the other man's shirt, but they are noticeable as he pushes away carefully. "I'm sorry!"

"It's fine, are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes, that was just startling!" He says, bringing his voice a little higher and letting his ears droop back to lay against his hair. He looks up at the wolf with wide-eyes, brings his hands in front of himself to fiddle nervously. "T-thank you for your help." Cute bunny things. A nervous prey animal who probably shouldn't be talked to any more out of fear of startling him further.

But the wolf ignores it as the others start to get their cloaks and pouches out from beneath the rubble. "I'm Nicolas. Let me buy you a drink for the trouble?"

"Oh, I don't think that's necessary-- it wasn't your fault."

"Then let me buy you a drink so I have an excuse to keep talking to you?"

He feels his face heat slightly. Of all of the people to get noticed by. He's about to decline again when he sees one of the others pick up his knife out of the corner of his eye. "Okay," He agrees.

The wolf, Nicolas, picks up his coin purse and smiles at him, a little crooked, his mouth closed to hide those sharp teeth, and ignores his packmates who are still sorting through the rubble for lost coins. "And who am I drinking with?"

"...Boyd." He gives over the name reluctantly as they start to move over to the bar. One drink. Then he'll escape before the wolf has a chance to confer with his packmates and notice the missing coins. With how much platinum he's gotten from the wolf, he'll buy a new dagger.

///

Nicolas buys him a drink, getting an ale for himself, and they find a little corner of the bar to talk in. And they do talk. The wolf seems to want to get to know him, and asks about the village, his interests, his occupation as a weaver, and anything else he can learn. Boyd does his best to give simple, shy answers as he sips at his much smaller cup. A small cup for a small creature, and one that he can tell has been heavily watered down. He could have three of these before he even started to feel flushed. But he's just a little rabbit. Surely the bartender, an owl who Boyd thinks must be filling the vacancy for Tara, is doing right by such a small animal who's been cornered by a predator like Nicolas.

The wolf, who is personable, and willing enough to give information about his life in turn. Their pack is actually three, soon to be five, consisting of his grandparents, parents, and he and his sister who both are at the age where they're going to be breaking away to find mates of their own . Hence the sudden departure from their normal hunting grounds and traveling from the wild forest and mountains stretching across this part of the country, and to populated cities. They normally don't see the other packs unless it's for a celebration like a wedding or the birth of a new pup.

"If your grandparents are expecting to see you mated by the end of the season, shouldn't you be looking for a mate, not wasting your time with a rabbit?" He offers sweetly.

"I don't think this is a waste of my time." He says in immediate response. "I'm enjoying talking to you. I hope that you don't think I'm wasting yours."

"You aren't," Just making it more uncomfortable the longer he lingers as he notices the weight of his coin purse more and more. "I just don't want to keep you from finding the love of your life. We have a pack here too, I'm sure that there's a wolf among them who could be a good match for you."

"Who said I was looking for a wolf?"

His face goes very hot as he fumbles for something to say in response. He's never been interested in other rabbits, the only partners he's ever taken were a sparrow and a gopher, both prey and both near his own size. Predators and prey are already an uncommon coupling, but the sheer size of the wolf-- well, he supposes his parents made that work, but it's nearly as whispered about as a wolf and a rabbit going to bed together would be. "I--" he doesn't know if he's going to decline the thinly veiled offer or not, and he doesn't get the chance to make that decision for himself.

"Boyd?" His brother's voice and shadow fall over the table suddenly, his tail flicking with his agitation when he sees that he's sharing it with a predator.

"Hey, Jon." He doesn't usually come to the Dusty Firefly, preferring to stay out by the fields and the bonfires there for his revelry.

"You ready to head home?" Jon says, reaching for his arm. Trying to get him away from this 'dangerous' stranger. "Come on, I'll walk you."

He bristles and pulls his arm back before those much larger fingers can close around it and take away his choice. "No, I haven't finished my drink, or my conversation, yet. I'm good." He only realizes in hindsight how bad of an idea that was. He was supposed to be looking for a reason to bail. But his brother's condescension immediately made him lose sight of his goals.

"Boyd--"

"He said he isn't finished." Nicolas tells him evenly.

"He's my brother--"

"I don't see why that means you get to ignore what he said." Nicolas turns his attention back to him. "But I have taken up a lot of your evening, and if you'd like to leave, you're welcome to."

Take the out, take the out, take the out-- "I thought you were interested in taking up all of my night too?" The wolf's ears perk up slightly. As his brother tenses further. He barely glances at him. "See you later." Unlikely. He avoids going to their family farm now that he's got a place of his own. His brother looks like he's going to make a fuss, but Nicolas growls softly, and even as big as his brother is, he's still a prey animal himself. He bristles and pales, and Boyd takes a sip of his watery drink to hide how that sound makes him tremble slightly as well. Jon gives him one last glance before he disappears into the crowd, though Boyd is fairly certain he'll be back with their sister if she's here as well, or someone else he thinks can extract him from this situation.

Nicolas watches his brother go before turning back to him. "I am going to see if there are still any rooms available. Whether or not you'd like to share it with me will depend on if you're still here when I come back. And if you're not," his voice is gentle, his grip very careful as he takes his hand in his own, "Then I had a nice time anyway." His lips press to the back of his palm lightly and he is struck again by how much smaller he is than the other man.

"Okay." He sounds a little breathless as he says it, but Nicolas doesn't linger. He smiles at him, and then lets go and slips away from the table. Okay. Get up and go. Leave right now and hope that there are so many people in here that he didn't catch his scent and won't notice when his coin purse is so light.

He stays right where he is, finishing his drink in two gulps. It's so watery it barely burns. Nicolas is a nearly seven foot tall predator, he reminds himself frantically. Not only did he steal from him, but he is a wolf on top of that, and wolves have extra features he should worry about on top of the claws, and strength, and teeth. He should leave right now. Leave, leave, leave.

When the wolf comes back to the table with a large iron key in hand, his tail wags a bit behind him as his smile returns, slow and smooth, and his eyes linger on his body. He offers his other hand and he needs to leave. He takes it instead.

///

The walk upstairs is blanked from his mind entirely. There's a constant whine in the back of his head of thin panic because he is a rabbit and this is a wolf and he should not be preparing to sleep with him. But he goes upstairs anyway. Goes into the darkened room of the inn, only big enough to hold a water basin, wardrobe, and bed, the sounds of activity still filtering up from the floors below. He hesitates as the door shuts behind him, but when Nicolas steps into his space, when he catches his chin between his fingers, and his claws just barely touch that thin, soft skin, a shiver goes through him and the other man pauses when he feels him tremble, looking worried.

He's spent his whole life with other people 'protecting' him from making his own choices. Becoming a thief had been a dangerous one that he ended up taking for himself. This one is a little more dangerous, a little more stupid, but he takes it for himself when he gets up on his tiptoes so that he can get his hands in the loose collar of the other's tunic and pulls as much as he can. Nicolas makes it easier for him, wrapping his other arm around his waist and pulling him up, until his toes aren't even touching the ground, and seals their lips together.

The dull heat of spring feels like it's gone from inert kindling to a flame spilling out across his entire body as the wolf kisses him. He shifts his grip, moving one arm to around his waist, but the other hand catches one of his thighs and uses that to hoist him higher like he doesn't weigh anything at all. Boyd adjusts his grip too, trying to hold on a little tighter as the press of their lips turns into tongues moving against one another and he feels consumed as it happens. His instincts scream at him to run when his tongue is coaxed behind such big, sharp teeth. Teeth that were made to tear into flesh. He has never enjoyed feeling small or fragile, but this-- this puts a need beneath his skin that he's never felt before.

He moans as he's easily carried over to the bed, Nicolas sitting on the edge and situating him in his lap. The blush spilling out across his face feels impossibly hot as he's forced to spread his legs so wide around the other's muscled thighs as he's left straddling him. One hand stays on his back to keep him steady, but the other goes to his tail, easily enveloping the entire thing in his palm and squeezing and stroking the soft fur and sending a bolt up his spine that has him gasping. He hears the other's tail swishing against the sheets,

"Does that feel good, bunny?" So good as he keeps doing it that his cock is stirring already. He nods weakly, leaning back in and being given a kiss immediately, this time the wolf licking behind his teeth as he keeps playing with his tail. He's not thinking as he shifts in the other's lap, trying to push his tail back into those touches, pressing back and bringing his pelvis down harder in his lap as a result and letting him feel the start of the wolf's arousal as well. Just the start of it and he already feels a big that Boyd loses any coherent thought for a moment. Nic hums low in the back of his throat using the grip on his tail as leverage to pull him even closer, until Boyd's rapidly hardening cock is doing so against his stomach, and the predator can grind his up against the swell of his ass.

"Ah," he gasps, his instincts going haywire as the scent of the other man starts to fill his nose now that they're away from the crowd downstairs. Musky, earthy, and... violent. Something in that smell that reminds him of blood even though there hasn't been any spilled between them. His claws are held carefully, his teeth never even chancing a light nip. But that smell is there as Nic noses down his neck and his tongue laves over his skin.

"I'm going to eat you up, little bunny."

That should not make him moan. It really, really, shouldn't. But it does as the wolf lets go of his tail so that he can pull his shirt from his pants. Yeah, okay, this is definitely happening. His hands tremble a little as he starts to pull at Nic's shirt too, tugging open the laces of the vest over his tunic to loosen it, but he can't take it off, not when the other's hands are so insistent as they pull his shirt over his head. He expects his ears to get tangled and pulled on-- it's happened every other time he's gone to bed with someone-- but the other catches the ends of them carefully as he pulls away the shirt. He can't resist keeping hold of one though, holding it between his fingers and stroking along the velvet soft fur along them, and Boyd shivers again at that sensation, at the feeling of the predator's large, dangerous hand against such a delicate part of his anatomy.

"Do you need me to slow down, Boyd?" Nic murmurs, his other hand resting against his chest once his shirt has been tossed to the floor. His shirt that was covering his bracers. Boyd tries to make his brain work through his lust and quickly wraps his arms around the other man's neck, undoing the buckles as he speaks.

"I'm not glass. I can handle anything you give me, puppy." It's enormous talk given that he's never had someone like Nicolas before, but it has his eyes darkening and the hand on his ears going to the base where they connect to his skull and giving an enticing, little tug that puts a delicious ache beneath his skin. He nearly forgets what he's doing, but he leans in and noses up under the wolf's chin to where his scent is strongest. To where, he's been told, they bite each other to become mates. It's incredibly reckless when he licks his skin, tasting the faint tang of sweat and that overwhelming woodsy scent on his tongue, before he skims his teeth over his skin.

Nic goes stiff under him and he thinks he's overstepped hesitating dropping the bracers off the other side of the bed in case he needs the tiny knife-- and then he has a hand around his hip and he's pulling him down against him roughly as his hips grind up so he can feel how hard his cock is now. Boyd moans, fumbling and dropping the bracers anyway, but he forgets to care as he's pulled back into another hard kiss as Nicolas shrugs out of his vest and tunic.

The muscle he'd felt beneath is curved across his chest and down his arms, the skin puckered and scraped with scars from a life, he assumes, of fighting. No wonder he hadn't blinked as he'd broken up the fight downstairs. He doesn't get a chance to enjoy the view for long because the wolf is catching his hips and pulling him up, closer, so that he can get his hand on his belt and pull that loose as his mouth seals over his neck where he doesn't have a matching scent gland. It doesn't seem to bother the wolf as he presses his teeth to his skin and sharp nips and bites make his skin tingle and him whimper in the other's lap as he's coaxed out of the rest of his clothing.

When he's naked in the other's lap, his cock is hard and curving up against his stomach, and he's never felt so vulnerable. He doesn't know if he's ever been this hot either as he whimpers and tries to get his hands into the other's pants as well, not wanting to be cowed. His cock is so big, as it presses against him, and his hands feel way too small as he gets them to his belt and button.

But he doesn't get further than that, because Nic grabs him around his hips and moves him like he weighs nothing. The wind is knocked out of him as his back hits the mattress and then the wolf is blocking out the rest of the world as he braces himself above him. "You smell so good, bunny." The words nearly a purr as they leave him, as he moves down his body, mouth first going to his neck as his hands curl around the soft skin of his inner thighs as he holds them open wider than he even knew he could spread them, just to make room for the other man. "Tell me if you don't like something." The words breathed against his skin as he kisses across his chest, down his flat stomach, along his thighs.

He whimpers when his mouth goes to his hole, his tongue licking a wide stripe over him. His mouth feels so hot as it touches him there, pleasure surging like lightning beneath his skin and making him cry out as one hand clutches in the sheets and the other tangles in his thick hair. The wolf hums approvingly and licks at him again, getting him drenched in his saliva, as his tongue moves over and around his entrance, flicking and teasing at the ring of muscles until he's moaning and his hips are trying to twitch weakly in his strong grasp to try and get more. Never had someone give him their tongue over their fingers, but as he moves he feels the prickle of his claws against him again and he supposes that he doesn't have much of a choice in it if he doesn't want to tear him open on his cock.

But Nic doesn't seem to begrudge the task. No, the way he licks at him, the soft growls and chuffs that are breathed against his skin as his tongue prods at his center, testing how relaxed his muscles are, seem pleased. Like he's getting pleasure just from being between his legs. His body opens for the other man and the tip of his long tongue slips inside, and Boyd's hand tightens in his hair as his moans pitch louder. Stars, his tongue is so big. It was already big in his mouth, but inside of his hole, fuck, he thinks he's had cocks that were smaller. His cock is drooling against his stomach steadily and he lets go of the sheets, his need so great that he has to have a touch there to go with the ones that are moving inside of him. Each little lick inside, he pulls out a bit before feeding his tongue deeper on the next. His fist goes around his prick as the other man's tongue goes deep enough to find that sensitive gland inside of him and Boyd cries out,

"Nic!" His hips trying to jump hard in his grip.

The wolf looks up at him from between his legs and sees him stroking himself and growls against his skin. He thinks, for a moment, that he's going to tell him to stop, but he doesn't. If anything, as he watches him stroking himself, the wolf eats him out more voraciously. Encouraged by the response, he gathers his pre that has dripped all over his stomach and uses that to make his skin slick, before he wraps his fingers back around himself. He strokes himself and in turn, Nicolas laps inside of him. His hand moves a bit faster along his shaft, and his nerves sing as that pressure inside his body is mirrored by the other's tongue. The wolf lets him set the pace, and soon he's stroking himself roughly, the grip on his thighs shifting to his hips, fingers curving around nearly to the small of his back, and holding him up so that he's practically riding the other's face, even while he's still on his back.

It doesn't take long for him to feel like he's going to shatter apart after that, the sounds of his pleasure so loud in the room that he can't hear the noise from the bar below anymore. His balls draw tight as he strokes himself faster, tighter, and Nic matches that by pushing his tongue in deep and moving it constantly against his prostate until everything snaps in a sharp crescendo of ecstasy that sends his release spilling halfway up his chest and leaves him gasping for breath. Stars dance behind his eyes as his cock pulses with the sensation and his insides clench weakly around his tongue. Nic licks and laps at his skin as he moans and trembles through his orgasm, until he whines weakly, his ears twitching, as it goes from good to too much in a matter of seconds as he starts to come down from the high.

Then the other man pulls back, giving one last lick to his stretched, dripping hole before murmuring, "Gorgeous, little bun."

He is too starved of breath to offer anything other than a weak moan, as the other moves up his body again, hands staying beneath him to lift his lower half higher so that his weight is easily held up against the wolves thick thighs as they slip beneath him. His mouth goes to his stomach and he licks up his release with another growl as Boyd feels his cock pressing up against the cleft of his ass. He doesn't try to push inside, but he ruts himself between his skin, and he gets even wetter as he feels the wolf's hot pre mixing with his cooling spit. Boyd moans softly, trying to get his heavy limbs coordinated enough to rock back into the motions, even as his brain starts to try and ring alarm bells as he feels how big the other man is against him. He's never had anything so big inside of him before. He doesn't even know if it's possible for a cock of that size to fit. As Nicolas kisses him, his mouth covered in the taste of him, Boyd decides he doesn't care. He would die to try it.

"Are you ready, bunny?"

"Please," he pleads, reaching back to get a hold of the headboard as the wolf's eyes flash with his want.

"Such a good boy, asking so sweetly." He presses a kiss to his cheek and that, of all things, is what he feels makes his blush go hotter again. As the sweet words also make his spent cock ache sharply with the desire to fill again. Then he pulls back a bit, enough that he can see what he's doing as he gets his hips lifted high, his legs supporting his weight, as he wraps a hand around his own cock. Fuck, fuck, he's even bigger than he'd felt, easily twice as thick as himself, nearly as long as his forearm, his head flushed dark and drooling pre, a pretty winding of veins tangled beneath that velvet skin. Definitely bigger than anything he's had inside of him before, and he wants him so badly now, that he can't possibly tighten with his nerves. The other man reaches off the side of the bed and he hears him rustle through their shed clothing before he comes back with a small bottle of oil that he smears over his length before he brings his head to his hole.

A soft whimper leaves him as he starts to push inside. The oil, his pre, his spit, all ease the way, but his muscles twitch and flutter as they're made to spread wider than they ever have before. He lets out a soft, scared chitter as he wonders if he really will be torn open around the intrusion. But Nicolas, even though he's already been so patient, even when he must be desperate for his own release, goes slowly. He makes his own soft, comforting chuffs and coos as he strokes his skin carefully with big, dangerous hands that could rend his flesh. He kisses his lips, his cheeks, his forehead. Leans in and licks along his ears.

Boyd moans loudly as his head fully breeches him, sending a dizzying pressure all along his nerves that is so intoxicating he almost forgets that the wolf is submitting to him as he grooms his ears. He can't keep it together then, his claws scraping across the headboard. His cock is so big inside of him and he forgets how to breathe as it keeps pressing deeper and deeper inside. No, it's not that he forgets, it's that there's no room left inside him for breath. All of the air is pressed out of his lings as he goes deeper and deeper until-- until--

Boyd keens as he sees a bump appear in his stomach. So big that the outline of his cock is visible through his insides. He's pretty sure that his brain melts out of his ears then. All he can do is moan and whimper, voice cracking on a sob as his cock swells again and his pleasure goes so blinding even though the other man hasn't even moved.

"Nic, Nic, Nic," he babbles, tears slipping over his cheeks. Fuck, he's never cried like this in bed before.

"What's wrong, bunny? Is it too much? Do you need me to stop?" His voice, even thin with his own pleasure, his lust, seems sincere. Really would stop no matter how much he must want more, to make sure he's not broken.

"More, more, please, Nic, please!" He begs instead. He needs it. Needs anything to make the blinding fullness change before he shatters.

And the wolf's restraint is torn away with a snarl. He pulls back halfway before he fucks into him hard. Boyd screams his pleasure as he's made so full again. His cock is so big that there's pressure against every inch of his inner walls, rubbing against his prostate, and going so much deeper inside than anything else has ever reached. Nicolas doesn't need to ask if he likes it, if he wants more, the way he's sobbing and trembling apart beneath him must be clear enough. So he doesn't stop. He pulls back even farther this time, and gives another rough thrust that makes their skin meet in a loud, stinging slap. That spark of pain against the pleasure sends his head into the stars as he feels himself getting even hotter.

He doesn't slow down after that. He curls his hands tight around him, holding his body at the angle he wants, and fucks him like a toy. They fall into a brutal rhythm that he's certain will leave dark bruises against his soft skin and he wants those. He wants to be alone tomorrow night touching the bruises on his thighs as he fists his hand around his cock and remembers how good it felt to be this full, this used, this small. Stars, he's never been so happy to be small in his life as the wolf envelops him in his bulk as he leans in to close those big teeth around his throat again, licking and biting, just this side of breaking skin, as he as he fucks him so hard and perfect.

Until he stops fucking in all the way, and Boyd chitters unhappily, wanting his full length inside again. It's not until he feels a bump starting to form, brushing against his stretched hole on each thrust, that he remembers the wolf's knot. Oh, moon and stars, how is he supposed to fit that inside? He doesn't ask to stop though, not when he's so close to his own orgasm. Neither of them are even touching his cock, but it doesn't matter. He's going to come anyway.

"Bunny--"

"I can take it," he says, not even knowing if it's a lie. "Please, please, knot me, please, Nic--!"

He snarls, catching his mouth in another rough kiss and then he's slamming that growing intrusion back inside of his body. Boyd's voice breaks; he moans so loudly as he's forced so wide, wider, as his knot finishes swelling inside of him as his insides are suddenly drenched in the wolf's cum. He whimpers as he sees his stomach swell slightly from how much is flooding his insides. And his knot. Fuck, his knot is so big and it's putting a fresh, perfect pressure against his prostate that has his own cock pulsing as his orgasm tears through him for a second time. He barely manages two squirts of cum as he feels the wolf's cock continuing to pulse inside of him and fill him with more. He can't help trembling and moaning, the pressing inside of him making him feel like he's losing his mind as it keeps coming. He can't escape his cock, can't make the pressure against his prostate lessen, and even as Nic pants through his orgasm, leaning in to pepper his face with more kisses, smearing against the tears and sweat that are spilling over his cheeks, he doesn't come down. He can't. His whole body is raw with his pleasure. When the other man stops spilling inside of him, he gives low comforting growls and chuffs as he holds him close and strokes his hair, as Boyd keeps falling apart stretched wide on his knot.

He doesn't know how long it takes for his knot to start to shrink just the barest bit, but when it does, Nic starts to roll his hips again. He's not fucking him like he did before, but he's grinding and rubbing, and he's already touching every oversensitive part of his body. It's too soon for him to get more than half hard again, but even that has him sobbing harder around the pleasure. He can't. This is too much, he can't possibly feel any better than he already does. The wolf shifts a hand to play with his tail again and Boyd whimpers, mortified, as his cock twitches and starts to dribble out a very thin stream of milky cum. Every little roll of his hips as his sore prostate is abused again, makes a little more come out. The wolf nearly purrs as he makes sure that he's gotten every drop of his pleasure out of him before his knot shrinks away and he's able to pull out.

Boyd's face is impossibly hot as he puts one big hand against his stomach as he does, pressing on the small bloat that wasn't there before as he pulls out. A humiliated whine slips from his lips as the wolf's cum pours from his body as he presses on his stomach, soaking both of their legs and the bed beneath them in a heady tangle of their scents.

He's pretty sure he passes out before he's empty.

///

Boyd wakes up with his mouth thick and stale, his entire lower half aching fiercely, and a bone-deep satisfaction everywhere else. And... curled up securely in Nic's arms. The wolf has wrapped his body around Boyd's much smaller form and appears to be sleeping soundly. Neither of them are crusting in dried cum, so he guesses that the wolf had cleaned them up after he-- he feels his blush go so hot it burns across the back of his neck-- after he'd passed out from how exhausted his body was in the wake of so much pleasure. He isn't being held too tightly, but he still shifts, turning into his full form, and more easily being able to hop out from the embrace as a rabbit. He slinks off of the edge of the bed before he turns back. As euphoric as the night before was, and no matter how sore he is, he needs to leave.

He moves as quietly as possible, retrieving his bracers and clothes and getting into them as quickly as he can manage. He's gotten his boots in hand and is starting to creep across the floor to the door when he hears the wolf yawn.

"Don't you want the rest of your payment, little bun?"

He stiffens, but he isn't doing anything wrong per say. Lots of people sneak out after a one-night stand. "Payment?"

The wolf hums, stretching out on the bed as he rolls over to look at him. "I had brought that platinum to buy a companion for my upcoming rut."

Fear pulses through him followed hotly by his indignance. "I'm a thief not a whore. If you want that, you can find it at the brothel." He digs into his pouch, furious with himself for getting caught, for being duped by the pretty smile and charming words. He pulls the platinum pieces he'd taken from his purse and tosses them onto the floor. He drops his boots back to the ground, intent on shoving his feet back into them and making himself scarce just in case the wolf decides to send the guards after him.

The bed creeks as he gets out of it and he flicks his remaining dagger into his hand, whirling to press it to the wolf's chest as he moves across the small room and into his space. Nicolas regards the small knife without any fear, but keeps his hands raised slightly at his sides. "If I treated you like a whore, then I'm sorry. That wasn't my intention when I invited you into bed last night." He reaches for him, hand cupping the side of his face. Boyd puts the blade to his wrist, but it doesn't deter him. His thumb strokes softly over his cheek. "Keep the platinum if you want it. My only hope is that you enjoyed last night as much as it seemed like you were."

He hesitates. "Why didn't you call the guards last night? I robbed you."

"You did. You robbed half a dozen other people too, if my count is right. But you never took more than they could spare. That's about as much honor as I suppose a thief can manage." His lips curl up into that soft smile again. "And why shouldn't you? When none of them will even give you the time of day? Even small creatures can be dangerous when they're overlooked." He shifts his hand, carefully brushing his thumb along the edge of the dagger to feel its sharpness. "I won't call the guards on you, and you never have to see me again, little bunny. But if you want to," he takes a step back, his tail swaying nervously near his ankles. "Then I'll be here for another three days before I find someone else to spend my rut with."

He hesitates, but after another second, the wolf turns to go back to the bed, giving him a good look at the muscle corded along his back and down to his sculpted ass as his tail swishes. He tries to shake away the little pulse of heat that puts in his veins and slips the knife back into his bracer before he finishes putting on his boots. "Don't hold your breath." He grumbles, the humiliation sitting under his skin as he opens the door.

"I may." Amusement clear in the other's voice. Boyd huffs and slinks away from the room, heading back home as swiftly as possible in case he changes his mind about calling the guards.

///

It's not too long before he's in his apartment again, stripping away his clothes so he can go take a proper bath. There are bruises against his thighs and ass, little shadows of them around his hips as well from being held in the position that the wolf wanted. They ache softly when he touches them and that little sting feels good under his skin. He tries not to think about that too hard as he goes and scrubs his skin clean of the wolf's scent.

When he gets back out of the bathroom, he dresses in soft sleep clothes, more than ready to eat and then return to bed for the rest of the day. But he pauses as he passes his purse that he'd set on his side table. He opens it back up and finds that he had really managed quite a good score the night before. Definitely enough to live off of for a few months.

The single platinum piece still sitting amongst the gold begs the question of if he'll seek out the wolf again before he leaves. Boyd moves into his kitchen as he refuses to answer until he has some distance from the night before.

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#original writing #nsft text #mlm nsft #queer nsft #shifter romance #shifter nsft #werewolf nsft #monster romance #monster fucker #monster nsft

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allkordelia · 9 months

Text

Keep Me Near Your Heart X

Aemond was quiet the whole trip into the market and the carriage ride, I didn't know if I should be worried or relieved, so I picked the latter ignoring the look he sent meant me.

I admire my gown, it was white gold with golden stitches of flowers in the middle of my midway, and short see through sleeves.

I heard Aemond cleared his throat making me look away from my gown to him, he looked annoyed and bothered at the same time making me raise my brow.

"Yes?" Aemond glance away before looking at me.

"You...Why did you do that."

"Do what?" I asked tilting my head to the side.

"You know what." He snapped making me give Aemond a look.

"You have to be more specific husband, I can't read your mind." Aemond rolled his eye.

"Why did you give that boy your ring?" Aemond questioned mad, " My mother put in effort buying you that gift you just gave it away, are--"

"I didn't give away the ring out of spite of your mother, Aemond." I roll my eyes, "It didn't even cross my mind that she brought it for me, I gave it to the boy because he looked like he haven't eaten in weeks." I finished.

Aemond was quiet again, I look at him to see him with a space out look like he was thinking about something.

"...so, you did it out of the kindness of your heart?" Aemond replied mockingly making me pull a face.

"Obviously, what else would I do it for? Unlike your mother, I don't need to pretend to me be a benevolent woman to hide my self righteousness." I turn away looking out of the window, looking out at the passing shops and stands.

I didn't turn away when I heard Aemond's shift around, but u did turn my head slightly feeling something rub against my foot and ankle making me glance at Aemond.

"What are you doing." I ask flatly

He smiled when he look at me.

"I am feeling a bit peckish," He moves to lean forward before getting off the bench to get on his knees in front of me, "And I remember vaguely you promising me a sweet for a my hard work."

A small smirk appeared on my lips at his words, I drone softly nodding my head.

"I did promise that, didn't I." He nodded his head in response as his hands drag down my skirt, "Well, a promise is a promise. Close your eye." Aemond look back up at me with a furrow brows confused, "If you want your treat you must close your eye, my prince." Aemond a frown a bit before doing what I did, i grab the pouch that sat next to me.

I opened it up taking one sugar grape between my fingers, I lean forward pressing the candy against his lips.

"Open up, my prince." I said sultry, and like before he did what I said making me pushing the candy inside his mouth gently.

He opened his eye staring as he latch his lips around my index finger, making me pull my hand back with giggle. He smirk at me as he eats the sugar grape, I take one out for myself and pop it in my mouth before leaning back, moving the pouch to the side.

"How does your treat taste," I ask with a sly smile, Aemond hums as he swallow.

"...sweet." I felt my skirt lift a bit and cold hand touch my ankle before trailing up and stopping at my calf, "But, I wish for something more sweeter," He grins when I roll my eyes, he didn't waste time before lifting my skirt and putting over his head.

I shook my head trying not to smile when he bit me, I put my hands over my face when I felt him get closer. I sigh into the palm of my hand as he indulge himself to me, sometimes he make it hard to stay silent, I wish he wait when we got back to the castle. I swallow griting my teeth at the tingly sensation in my stomach, I drag my hands on my face holding on to the bend and aemond's head.

I roll my hips alignment with him as he bring me close to the edge, I shudder biting down on my lip as a moan stayed stuck in my throat.

Aemond pulled away as I watch lazily, his hair was a bit disheveled, he comb his fingers through it before getting up and moving the pouch from next to me to take its spot. He got another sweet out and pop it in his mouth, before doing the same to me, he press it against my lips wanting for me to open until I did.

The rest of the ride was spent in silence, as we shared the sweets together.

「 ⊹₊♚₊⊹ 」

The sun was slowly going down when I sat in my chamber in my afternoon gown, waiting on Enith return, just as I was thinking about the handmaid the door to my chamber opened making me look to see Enith.

She smiled at me with her hand behind her back, making me look at her curious.

"Before you asked, yes there is something behind my back, and yes I did lie to you about what I was really doing." I raised my brow at her amuse as she walks towards the bed and sat down, "I just hope you like it," she took her hand from behind her back, and opened her palm to reveal a bronze oval locket with a three headed dragon attached to a matching bronze chain.

Her thumb press the side making it open, she open it wider revealing a drawing inside. My heart weight heavy with sadness and joy at the face of my daughter, I put my hands over my mouth as I stare with welled up tears in my eyes.

"I had the blacksmith make the locket, and I drew the portrait." I look up at her in surpised moving my hands.

"You drew this?" She nodded her head, I look down at the portrait again, "It's beautiful...you captured every detail of her virtuous little face, it's..." I stopped myself feeling the lump grow in my throat as I kept my emotions down, I look back at Enith with a teary smile, "...this is the greatest gift you can give me, Enith, thank you." Enith smiled bowing her head bashfully.

"Thank you, your highness." I smiled at her before handing the locket back making her look at me.

It took her a second after I turn around to realize what I wanted her to do, I move my hair hair put of the way waited patiently as she put the necklace around my neck. It didnt take long for her to put over my neck and clamp it in the back, I turn around feeling her lean back and hug her.

Enith took in a sharp breathe before I pulled away, she look at me with grimace making me frown worried.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

Enith massaged her temple before looking at me, she dropped her hand and gave a strain smile.

"I-I'm fine, princess." She stuttered, "Just a headache." She promised.

My frown deepen, I couldn't tell if she was lying or telling the truth, her words didn't match her face. She looked in pain for a moment before a look of relief dawn her features, maybe she was right about the headache, I can only imagine the stress she caused herself for picking out my present.

"Okay," I drawl out looking at her unsure.

I glance around the room not sure what else to say, I flicker my eyes over to enith when I knee she wasn't notcing and find her looking at my lap with scrunch up furrow brows as if thinking. I put my hands on my lap as they tap my thighs, enith looks away to look at me but I was fast enough to look away.

"You should get ready for the feast," Enith started after a moment, she stood going over to the gown I picked out earlier today at the table, "Very cute gown, my lady." She compliments admiring it as she takes it in her hand, "A cute gown for a beautiful princess." She turns smiling at me.

I smiled back with a less beaming one like Enith, I always feel a tad bit embarrassed and thankful when Enith compliments me. She reminds me so much of Valaena and Alyssa, they like my aunt and alyaena always had this power to make me feel noticed. They make me feel included and seen, if it wasn't for them I have no doubt everyone else will forget about me.

I'm grateful for that. Because sometimes I forgot about myself too, sometimes when no one haven't talk to me for a long period of time I forget that I'm a girl and sometimes imagie myself as a ghost. I remembered roaming around the castle passing by old paintings or statues of dragons and the decease, going into vacant rooms just to linger and move on.

I don't know why I always felt that way, it wasn't like everybody in the castle didn't like me, they just forget I was there sometimes. My fault mostly, I didn't speak a lot or to a lot of people and do much of anything outside my chamber, I was closed off like Maekar but not as scary or gloomy like him.

I always had Alyaena to play with and thay was enough for me, but the more I grew and aly started trying new things, I started realizing how much I hate being a ghost. When I found i was going to get married ro aemond, half my thoughts was a filled with worries while the other half was filled with glee thinking getting married would be a great way to do more and get seen.

And I was right for a while, aemond noticed me, he "liked" me but it was all a lie. I thought I would grow into a woman like my aunt rhaelle, beautiful and strong, but all i became was weak and useless. Being lied to, cheated on, and losing the only light that made it possible to live in this dark didn't turn me miserable or bitter like I thought it would. It rather made me sensible and shrewd to my surprise, all because of enith, she was there by my side through it all, she always felt like a big sister watching over me, deep down in some way I don't know how to explain it...but she saved me.

「 ⊹₊♚₊⊹ 」

"...can you believe what happened between Lord Myre and Lady Flint," Whispered Lady Shiphard to the other women as I stand in circle with them.

The other women gathered closely to her with a mixture of curiosity and contain excitement in their eyes as they whispered back to her to tell them, I stand like I usually do with a bored look, out of the huddled circle of ladies watching from the sidelines with Enith and Ser Krey behind me.

I care little for their gossip, since it just them being plain mean and bad-mouthing the other ladies of court.

What I always forget to mention to my dear husband about my new "friends" is that they are twice my age and not my friends but his mother's pets who enjoy causing others misery and picking at dead things...like vultures.

They just like Alicent or rather Alicent is just like them, since they were three older woman who looks to have been alive since king jaehaerys's reign while the other four was a bit close to be the queen's age.

"...Let's just hope this one lives." Lady Rosby spoke.

I look up at them as they nodded their heads in agreement, while standing apart looking at each other.

"Yes, hopefully...but.." Lady Weaver started as she look from her nails to the others, "You all know how much I adore Sosan, she's a sweetheart, but I don't believe she's make the best mother," She shrugged with her shoulders nonchalantly, "I mean, look at how she handles her step children, not one of them speaks with her with a ounce of respect like they did their mother." Lady Weaver shakes her head in dismay, she pause what she was going to say next as a servant came with a glasses, after every lady took a glass I receive my own, "I'm not saying this to be rude but the gods are clearly doing her a favor not giving her a child..." Lady Weaver speaks as she twirl her wine, "...not every woman can be patient and strong like us, this new line of women are becoming too soft for my liking." She said with a lofty tone.

Lady Weaver was around the queen's age maybe younger, she like every other lady in this group was traditional and like how things are. She believe men should provide while women should support, which is not surprising or unrare to hear, but she also thinks man should only rule and that woman shouldn't be given the power to do so. So, I can only imagine while she told me these things for the first time we meet that she didn't like me or like the idea that my mother was going to be queen of the seven kingdoms after Viserys's death.

"Urg, don't I know it, my own daughter-in-law can barely disciplined a 6 year old," Lady Clarick shook her head with an unkind chuckle before she take sip from her wine and whispered, "But, I shouldn't be surprised, I know my son didn't marry her for her looks." She chuckle making the rest of the women to follow suit.

I could only roll my eyes and scoff in my cup as I empty it without a thought.

"Are you alright, princess?" Asked Lady Weaver.

I brought the cup away from my lips and look at the group of women staring at me with scornful looks, Lady Weaver had a small smirk on as she wait for me to answer.

"I-I'm fine," I dismissed quickly.

"Are you sure? It sounded like you had something to say," Lady Weaver comment making me pull a face.

"No, I was just...clearing my throat," Lady Weaver hums as she sneer at me.

"Oh, my mistake." She says with a coy look before turning her attention to another.

I gave a eyeroll and turn away from the group of woman, I glance at Enith and Ser Krey before walking away without a word to the circle of vultures. I hear enith and krey following behind me as I make my way to the table where the king and his family sat watching or drinking during the feast. I took a seat next to viserys on his right side while the queen sat on his left, aemond was here a moment ago but it seemed like he left as I scan the floor, aegon was already drunk nursing his thirteenth cup as he sat between his mother and sister-wife.

Enith push my seat forward before disappearing, she came back a minute later with a pitcher and pour me some wine. I thanked her before I started on my second cup, just as I sip I hear a chair scrap against the floor before footsteps, in the corner of my eye I see Alicent's blurry form pushing her chair in.

I pray she wasn't coming to talk to me, alicent has a way of making you want to drink yourself to an early grave to put it nicely. I rather end the night slightly buzzing, rather than impair to the point where I can't walk on my own.

Thank the gods above, my prayers were answered, alicent walk pass me and my seats to make her way to the floor, before I could celebrate I felt a cold hand on top of my hand making me glance down to see a old pale hand that looks to belong to the stranger himself. However, it belonged to the king which made me glance at him with confusion written on my face only to find viserys gazing at me.

"How are you liking the feast, my child." He said as rest in his seat.

I couldn't help but look at him surprised, he never acknowledged me like this before or talk to me. So, I glance around taking me a moment to respond to him.

"Oh, um, It's...It's nice," I replied with a small smile, viserys's smirk in return.

"I'm glad to hear it," He stated blink at me, I smiled again before looking away thinking he was finish, "Did you see the platter of your favorite savories I had the servants make?" He asked making me do a double take at his words.

Hmmm?

"You..." I stopped myself as too many questions form in my head, it took me a minute to collect my thoughts before picking the question I wanted to ask first, "...You order the servants to make me my favorites?" I questioned unsure.

Viserys nods with a bright smile, "Of course, I know how you love your sweets," I look at him half impress as he recount about having to tell Alicent what he wanted at the feast for me, "...I always forget is lemon cake still your favorite," I couldn't help put smile widely and nod my head.

Viserys gives me a knowing smile before beckoning a servant forward and requesting a slice if lemon cake, the servant did a quick bow of the head before leaving quickly only to return back just as fast with a plate with a slice of cake. He place it in front of me and viserys before stepping back, viserys and I smile at each other before grabbing our forks and digged in.

I couldn't help but hum in delight at the taste, it felt like forever since I had lemon cake. The last time I could remember having it was right around the time aunt rhaelle and her children moved into dragonstone castle, it was the third week of us all living there and the same night we had lemon cake for dessert, was the same night baelon and jacerys snuck down into the caves.

"So, how was your day today, must be nice to get out of that room." Viserys asked as he shakily feeds himself, "I heard you went into the city, was it nice?" He asked again but this time his put down his fork and put all his attention on me.

I felt my face drop along with my stomach in fear, I swallow down the lemony sweet cake as I set ny fork aside, I could only imagine his disapproval on me socializing with the children in fleabottom.

"Oh, yeah..." Was the only thing I could muster up as I took a napkin and wipe the corner of my mouth, "...are you mad?" I raised my brow at him.

"Of course not, I know how you like to venture around the city. I only be mad if you didn't take a guard with you." He says rubs my hand, "Otto also told me how you like spending your free time helping the smallfolks, that's nice." He confessed making me pull a face before fixing it.

No doubt hearing it from his daughter, who no doubt heard it from her son. Who must he tell that woman everything?

"It is?" Viserys nods his head.

"They are the reason I am king, they are the ones that keep things moving along. You know I always thought the smallfolks play a important part in the kingdom." He express.

I never knew he felt that way, I am curious what he would say if I asked what been on my mind for a while.

"I'm happy you said that because I was thinking...maybe we should slow down on the feasts and think about putting our efforts in fleabottom." I vocalize nervously, "...more so thinking about building a home for the abandon children." I add looking at him.

Viserys was silent which made me even more nervous, he look away from me with thoughtful look.

"No more feast?" He said to himself.

"No, no. Moreso limiting them," I suggested, "Rather than throwing one every two times a week, you can do twice a month." My grandsire looked back at me with an unreadable look.

"Hmmm, I think that's a good idea..." I smiled, "I would have to talk about it with the council and your husband, knowing him he will not be happy about that." He whispered the last part to me making my face drop.

I look away with a frown to stare at the sea of people, I glance around before pausing to see Aemond with Alicent. I watch them as they talk, I could see aemond was upset and his mother was comforting by rubbing his arm like she always do to show affection.

"Are you mad at me?" I turn away from the prince and his queen-mother to look at my grandsire with a shock look.

"What? No, no...why would you ask me that?" Viserys frown a making me grow confuse even more, "Are...Are you made at me?" I asked back, viserys frown deepen at my questions.

"I can never be mad at you, my dear." he said squeezing my hand making my heart swell a bit, "I only ask because...you haven't came to visit me in a while." He said with a hurt tone, making it my turn to frown at the king.

"Oh, I didn't...I didn't think you want to see me, given--"

"Of course, I want to see you, my love. I always do." It was so odd to see my grandfather show so much love and adoration towards me that I never seen before.

"If that's true. Why do you treat me so differently then?" I couldn't help but ask that question, viserys glance around for a second before leaning in.

I do the same curious to know what he was going to tell me.

"I do not mean to do it...but you know how emotional she can be, if I am not on her side then she gets a bit difficult to talk to..." He states. I pull back I wanted to ask who he was referring to but he continued on, "And you know aemma, rhaelle, she like you and my daughter and every other woman in our house...are stubborn to the bone." He slaps the table as he chortle.

I lean back. What he said throw me through a loop, i was more confused than I was before as I stare at him dumbfounded.

Did he think I...was rhaelle?

Questions. Many questions formed as I thought about it and before I could ask one, a brush against my cheek had me snapping back to reality just as a cold hand rest on my cheek.

"Rhaelle" I look to my grandfather looking him in his violet gloss over eyes, "Are you alright? Do you wish to retire to our ch--" Viserys stopped when I was snatched out of my chair by my arm.

I look at Alicent as she stare at viserys with a scowl, she turn her angry glare at me before hissing in a low tone.

"Your husband is here, you should go to him." Alicent's grip on my arm tighten at each word she spoke, I wince before glaring at her just as she turn us before letting go of me.

I lost my footing and before I could fall, a pair of hands caught my waist. I look over my shoulder to see Aemond looking down at me with a glum look, I right myself before looking at Alicent as guards help viserys out of his seat.

"It seems the king is feeling unwell," Alicent says nonchalantly before turning to aemond and I, with a small smile, "But, do not let that damper your mood, you should go and have fun. Dance. I think the ladies and lords would enjoy it." she said in that sickly sweet tone.

"But, grandfather--" I look pass her to see the maester following close by with the guards and the king.

"Will be okay, all he needs is his poppy's milk." She says making me look back at her, she took a step closer with square shoulders, it took like she's trying to be intimidating, "Now, go run along and enjoy the feast." I narrow my eyes at her at the condescending tone.

She gives me a look, before I could say a word I felt a hand on my wrist.

"We will, mother." Aemond spoke from behind me.

Before I knew it I was being dragged away from Alicent, I look over to find Alicent talking to Enith and Ser Krey making me furrow my brows in questions when I made eye contact with Enith.

Something didn't feel right, I felt like I was outside looking through a window inside with how viserys was acting and how alicent acted. And I think my body agrees with how much my gut has been fluttering and my head feeling light, so much was happening and I wanted to know what.

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rinixo · 2 years

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cherry waves

Din Djarin/Reader | 3.1k | Rated E | afab reader, no y/n, sex pollen trope, description of illness, vaginal fingering, first time

In hindsight, that caf did taste a little off.

Non-linear oneshots featuring you, a university scholar from Naboo who is helping The Mandalorian seek out the Jedi.

read on ao3

The quiet murmur of the crowds were faint in the back of your mind as you sat underneath the shade near a small food stand. In front of you on the table were various datapads, and as you sipped on your caf your eyes darted from one to another, analyzing the information.

Off in the distance, The Mandalorian entertained the child by walking him past the various shops and stands. The baby had been distracting you from your current task, so the metal man had graciously pulled him away to ply his attention with shiny baubles and roasted skewers.

The market you were on wasn’t particularly large or well known, but it suited your needs well enough. The three of you needed to stretch your legs and breathe non-recycled air after a couple of weeks being cooped up in the Crest. Being able to stock up on some basic necessities was a plus, especially in a place where you were unlikely to be noticed or tracked by the various bounty hunters and imperial remnants out to find you.

However, supplies and fresh air were only second on your list of priorities. What you really needed, and what eventually led to you sitting there surrounded by datapads was a reliable Holonet connection.

A few days ago, you had approached Mando about your current progress on tracking down information on the Jedi Order. You had stockpiled terabytes of records and information prior to fleeing Naboo, which had been helpful, but could only get you so far.

“I need to cross-reference the variables against the network in order to extrapolate the most relevant data points and establish the locations with the highest likelihood of success,” you had explained. Mando had turned slightly in his seat, and you guessed that under that helmet he was frowning.

Smiling apologetically, you tapped your nails against the side of your datapad. You had the tendency to get too technical when it came to your passion. “I need a stable connection to the Holonet so I can plug in the info we know about the Jedi against recent mentions or sightings so I can narrow down where we should be looking.”

That seemed to make sense, so a few days later there you were, hooked up to the Holonet on some planet you had already forgotten the name of. For the past hour, you had been running the data, searching for info points on your keywords – ‘Jedi’, ‘laser sword’, ‘space magic’, etc – hoping to find something that would get you closer to your goal.

A while later, your search had yielded a half dozen promising leads. Pleased, you shut off your data pads and began to pack up your items up as Mando waltzed back over.

“Any luck?” He asked, and you nodded as you stood.

“Actually, yes. I found some relatively recent data that I think is worth investigating.” The two of you (and the baby, tucked away in his pouch at Mando’s side) began your short journey back to where the Razor Crest was docked while you continued to speak. “The New Republic has removed most of the Imperial censors on the ‘net, but a lot of the data on the Jedi has just been purged completely. It’s not so much that the information is censored at this point – rather, the information just doesn’t exist anymore. At least not in a format I can access.”

“But you found something?” Mando asked, and you detected a tinge of hope in the timbre of his voice.

Reaching into your pack, you pulled out one of your data pads and pulled up some coordinates. “Yes, several locations that have mention of information or remnants of Jedi history, and in some cases alleged sightings of actual Jedi.” Mando took the pad from you as you approached the Crest, climbing the ramp into the belly of the ship. “One of those places is just one jump away, actually.”

Mando handed the pad back to you, and began to head towards the cockpit. “Good job. We’ll start there.”

You set your things down among the recently re-stocked supply crates, hoping that turning your face away from the man was enough to hide the heat in your cheeks and the shine in your eye from the compliment. Your halfhearted attempt at dampening your crush on the armored man had failed, and your heart continued to race every time he praised you or brushed up against you.

You had acknowledged that Mando’s first priority would always be the child, which you respected and agreed with. You often wondered if the subtle hints you sent his way, in your body language and voice, made it through the beskar armor. He was still as stoic and unflappable as he was when you first met, but his replies had started to come easier and it felt like he would now go out of his way to spend time with you, instead of the wide berth he had given you half a year ago. Part of you knew that it was due in no small part to the trust the two of you had built, but the romantic in you also liked to wonder if it was something a little more.

A sharp pain in the back of your neck pulled you out of your wistful thinking, and you winced. Chalking it up to too much caf too quickly, you decided you finish putting your things away and take a nap. You didn’t want it to turn into a headache or migraine, and a nap was usually enough to stave such off.

Several hours later, you remained awake in your cot, head aching and body burning. You had slept in fitful bursts until the burning under your skin forced your eyes back open to the low light of the hold where you lay. Sweat trickled across your skin, and you let out a low moan tinged with pain. You felt like your very blood was made molten, chugging sluggishly through your veins and pooling uncomfortably between your thighs. Every slight movement of your legs and your body sent shocks of sensation to your most sensitive nerve endings.

Hoisting yourself up with some difficulty, you shuffled slowly towards the refresher, thin tank sticking to your clammy skin. Pushing open the door, you gazed at your reflection in the mirror, someone you had a hard time recognizing staring back. Your skin was slick with sweat, your pupils blown dark and wide. With a shaking hand, you turned on the water and tried to relieve some of your pain by splashing it across your face. It did nothing to help, and merely splashed your already sweat-soaked top with ice cold water.

Shutting the water off, you turned to return to your cot, only to bump straight into a broad metal chest. The impact wasn’t very hard, but in your fragile state you fell to the ground, legs shaking underneath you. Your head pounded, and you groaned and covered your eyes.

“Are you alright? You don’t look so good,” Mando inquired. You rasped out a ‘no’, throat dry. You weren’t sure what was going on, but you knew that you definitely did not feel well. Your pussy throbbed at the sound of his voice, which would normally not feel so bad. In your current state, it was almost painful.

Mando turned, looking for something, and returned shortly with a cup of water. He knelt to be closer to your level, and held up the cup to your lips. He helped you sip, and you downed the water gratefully, feeling the dryness in your throat ease some.

“What happened?” Mando asked, and you sighed.

“I don’t know,” you said weakly. “Maybe I’m sick? I felt fine until we got back to the Crest. I had a bit of a headache so I tried to sleep it off, but it just kept getting worse and worse.” A low ‘hmm’ emanated from the beskar helmet, and Mando pulled off a glove to place the back of his hand gently against your cheek. You closed your eyes and leaned into it, thankful for the coolness of his skin against your blazing cheek.

“You’re burning up,” Mando said, concern evident in his voice. “It’s odd that you’d get this sick this quickly.” You let out a whine as he removed his hand, letting you head lull to the side. A sudden thought rushed through your head and you looked up at him in panic.

“You – and the baby – I don’t want you two to get sick,” you breathed out. “You should get away from me, and keep him away.” Mando stood, and pulled a datapad towards him. Frustrated that he seemed to ignore your concern, you tried to pull yourself up and found it more of a struggle than you could attempt. Choosing instead to crawl towards him, you pleaded for him to return to the cockpit.”

“Hush,” Mando commanded, and it was like every cell in your body stood at attention to obey him. You shut your mouth and rested your head against his armored thigh, closing your eyes to ride another wave of the burning in your blood that seemed to both come from and end up between your legs.

“Did you have anything to eat when we were in the market earlier?” Mando asked. You shook your head weakly.

“N-no…just a couple cups of caf…”

His helmet tilted sharply to look down at you. “Caf? Are you sure?”

Confused, you shrugged. “I…I think so?” Now that you thought about it, it had tasted a little unusual, but you had assumed it was just some kind of local variety. “It was a little…spicy…?”

A muffled expletive was all you heard as Mando set the datapad down and crouched to get at your eye level again. He grasped your chin gently in one hand to steady your head, and you felt your blood sing. You could faintly make out your reflection in his helmet, your pupils so dark it felt like your vision should be black.

“Wha-?” you said in a hushed voice, confused. Mando sighed, and let go of your chin. He remained in a crouched position, arms on his knees and hands opening and closing into fists as he struggled to explain.

“I think you’ve been poisoned,” he started slowly. Your head shot up, panic evident on your face. “Not on purpose,” he clarified, “at least I don’t think so. I don’t think what you were given was caf. That planet is known for an herb that – in some people – elicits this kind of reaction,” he gestured at you. “I’m guessing that it was in what you drank.”

Your mind raced. Poisoned? Herb? None of it made sense in your addled state. All you knew was that with every passing moment your body throbbed with need and you were edging closer and closer to shoving your hand into your pants right here in front of the Mandalorian.

“Is there an antidote?” You moaned. “How long does this last?”

Mando shook his head. “Not that I know of. From what I’ve encountered, it can last a couple of days, but I’ve never seen someone have such a strong reaction,” he explained sympathetically. “I don’t know how much you had, so I don’t know how long this will last.”

“Is there anything to relieve this feeling?” You practically begged. “Mando, I’m desperate, this is unbearable…”

The man cleared his throat. It was clear he was struggling with something.

“There is,” he said lowly. “But it’s…it’s not something that…” he trailed off. You stifled a sob and crawled closer to him. One of his hands came to steady you at your shoulder.

“This reaction – the herb – it affects your libido,” he continued calmly. You grit out a short, strained laugh.

“No shit.” Something about him acknowledging he understood what you were experiencing was almost liberating. You felt like the more he talked to you, the more he touched you, the closer you were to him the clearer your head felt. The burn under your skin was still there, and the desire pounding through your veins, but your mind and attention were more focused.

“Yeah. So you can work it through your system faster by, uh…” he stumbled over his words. “R-releasing…”

You wanted to sink through the floor and float off into space, never to be seen again. The idea of getting off here with Mando knowing was mortifying. Sure, you were attracted to him, but this was not the way you had fantasized about approaching the topic with him.

“Damn it,” you murmured. “Damn it.” You looked up at Mando, debating your options. It seemed you could either ride this out, not knowing how long it would last, or get off until it wore off. Mando made it sound like it would be at least a few days before it was out of your system naturally You already felt at the end of your rope after just a few hours, so you crossed that off your list. That left you with one option.

Letting out a defeated sigh, you sat back on your haunches. “Can you help me up?” You asked, voice trembling. “Get back to my cot so I can, uh…”

Understanding, Mando moved towards you. Instead of sampling helping you stand, you let out a small squeak as he hoisted you up into his arms. The feeling of your skin against his cold armor was both a relief and a trigger, sending more need through your body.

He walked you over to your cot, and gently laid you down. You let out another (mostly) involuntary moan as his strong embrace lessened, and you desperately wished he would continue to hold you.

“Thanks,” you gasped out. “I’m so sorr-“

“Do you want help?”

You closed your mouth, not knowing to believe what you thought you just heard or not. He had said it so suddenly. His helmeted gaze was fixed on you, and you propped yourself up on one elbow.

“H-help?” You gulped. “H-help how?” His gaze remained steady, and there was a tension radiating off his body like you hadn’t seen before.

“I could…touch you,” he clarified. “Help you…release. Only if you want to,” he added. “Never without – I’d never presume –“

“Yes,” you said breathlessly. Your body hummed with desperation and need. “Please, yes, Mando.” His concern for you was intoxicating, his hurried explanation endearing.

Mando slowly moved to sit on your cot. While your sleeping space wasn’t exactly tiny, his bulk took up most of the space as he leaned against the wall, spreading his legs slightly. “Lay against me,” he said gently. Your body immediately obeyed his command, and shot up to crawl between his legs, settling between them, back against the cool structure of his chest. You felt dwarfed by his body and his presence, and that in and of itself was sending notes of gratification through you.

He shifted you slightly, so that your legs could spread wider. The feeling of his gloved hands against the soft skin of your thighs made you gasp sweetly, and you closed your eyes and leaned your head back.

A short rustle, and then his hands were back, this time bare. “Can I touch you?” He asked again, one hand on your thigh, the other hovering over the waistband of your bottoms. You nodded, and let out a hushed ‘yes’. Despite your enhanced state, you felt fully in control of your senses and cognizant of your decision.

Mando slipped his hand under your shorts, and cupped your dripping cunt. You spread your legs further, bumping them up against his. His hand on your thigh rubbed soft, soothing circles as his other prodded your folds and clit carefully.

You were so pent up and sensitive your first orgasm came embarrassingly fast. Mando slowly caressed your swollen pussy as you bit your lip and whimpered.

“So soon?” Mando joked breathlessly. Your hands came up to grip his pants, fisting the material as your lower half writhed.

“M-more Mando, please…”

He obliged you, putting pressure on your throbbing clit. You chewed on your lower lip, trying to move your hips in motion with his ministrations. His hand ventured lower, two fingers slipping inside you as the heel of his palm rubbed your clit. You opened your mouth in a silent ‘ah’ as he began to stroke in and out of you – not too deep, just enough to make your legs begin to shake.

His unoccupied hand came up to rest on your lower stomach. You marveled at how hands so calloused could feel so soft against you. You looked down at where he continued to pump in and out of you, cheeks burning. You were wetter than you had ever been before, and the sound of Mando touching you was nearly obscene.

You could feel another orgasm approaching. Your hands gripped his pants harder, and you arched your back, trying to get Mando to fill you more. His hand on your stomach stayed firm, holding you in place as he methodically fingered your dripping cunt.

“That’s it,” he murmured, voice husky and low even through the vocoder. “Let me help you-”

“M-maker…” you gasped. He ground his palm against your mound, and you were on the precipice. Your thighs shook with the effort of trying not to writhe so much that he lose his grip. You wondered where he learned to do this. Maybe it was the effect of the herb making you more sensitive, but it was like he was playing your body like an artist perfecting a masterpiece.

Your orgasm built like chain lightning, and rolled over you like thunder. Your thighs snapped closed, trapping his hand between your legs. Your head fell forward as you wailed, Mando coaching you through your second release.

“Yes, good girl, you’re doing so well-“

It felt like your release lasted two lifetimes before your thighs began to part. You felt extremely sensitive as Mando slipped his fingers out of you, trailing them up over your clit. Your body jerked from the sensation, and you panted, eyes closed.

“Feeling better?” Mando murmured, hand rubbing soft circles on your tummy. You nodded, voice not found. You were feeling lightyears better in fact – the burn was still there, but so much more subdued and your head no longer pounded.

“Mmm,” he said. “I guess your exceptional reaction results in exceptional completion.”

You let out a laugh. “Is that your hypothesis?” Mando’s hands returned to your thighs, and you bit your lip as he teased the soft skin there.

“Perhaps,” he mused. “I think it could benefit from more investigation.”

“Agreed,” you breathed, letting the pleasure wash over you as he resumed his attention dutifully.

pt 2 but with din getting sex pollen’d.....? ∠( ᐛ 」∠)

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #sex pollen #din djarin smut #mandalorian smut #mando x reader

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