#to pin my shawl closed in the front | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kasagia · 8 months ago

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Right hand II

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!exBeneGesserit! reader Summary: After you miraculously escaped from his arms the other night, you tried to stay away from him as best as you could. You have to put a lot of effort into escaping from the na-baron, who is tirelessly and constantly chasing you, or into avoiding another invitation to his chambers late at night. However, on Arrakis, the situation between you changes drastically... And you're losing control over your life, and it's not because of Feyd. Warning: 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; fight; brutality; smut; Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART I ~•♤♤♤•~ PART III ~•♤♤♤•~

You are standing in front of the window of the ship that is taking you to Arrakis. You nervously play with the edge of the shawl that covers your head. You don't have good memories of that planet. Before you escaped with Feyd, the Bene Gesserit sent several of their young apprentices to… train in the sands of Dune. Including you.

You still remember the screams of some of your companions who went crazy from a lack of water and decided to end their lives. And sometimes at night you dream that the sandworm swallows half of your group, leaving you practically on your own.

Arrakis didn't just kill your friends. It killed any belief in the Bene Gesserit in you, only confirming that you would rather die than be completely subject to them.

And now you're going back there with someone who had full control over your life again. It's funny how history likes to come full circle. And how, despite their repetition, people still fall for tricks and fall into fate's traps, acting in exactly the same way.

A cold hand on your bare shoulder snaps you out of your stupor. You act fully automatically,drawing the dagger attached to your belt and twisting the attacker's arm. You pin him to the wall, placing the blade against his pale neck. You freeze as your eyes meet Feyd's icy blue gaze.

"Good reflex. If you were anyone else, I'd kill you for this, but I'm in a particularly good mood today, so I won't punish you as I would like. What were you thinking about, my little witch, that you didn't hear me sneaking up on you? Or maybe I have finally surpassed the master?" He asks with a mocking smirk, showing off his black teeth. You snort, shaking your head at him.

"Keep dreaming." You say, taking advantage of his amusement. This time, you are not keeping your mouth shut for fear that he will deprive you of your tongue for your boldness towards him. You move away from him, which he takes with clear displeasure, and return to your place by the window.

"If I dream about you, I prefer to dream about something much more pleasant." He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. He slides your shawl off your head with his teeth and nuzzles his nose into your hair, inhaling your scent.

You feel him sigh deeply, leaning against you a little as he relaxes into your scent and closeness. You frown, but let him hold you because you feel calmer having him close to you. Despite everything that had happened in the past two weeks, you still found his presence reassuring. It didn't make any sense to you, but apparently, over the years, you had begun to involuntarily associate him with something akin to a safe shelter. Herkonnen. A psychopathic, bloodthirsty future baron. How ironic…

However, being in his arms helped you come to the conclusion that the demons of the past should remain in the past. And you should focus on the newest one that is now wrapped around you.

You stare at your reflection in the glass, shuddering as his scent surrounds you, mixed with the blood that stains his uniform. You wonder which soldier you will have to find a replacement for this time.

"What were you thinking about?" He whispers that he doesn't loosen his grip on you even for a moment, knowing full well that the moment he does, you'll wriggle out of his arms and find another excuse to leave him.

You checked the condition of engines and fuel 8 times. He started counting after the ship's captain complained to him about your constant presence. He beheaded him without giving him the opportunity to complete his complaint against you. Feyd smiles, remembering the irritated frown on your forehead when you had to clean up his mess. Of course he followed you then. Of course, 'just to make sure that the next captain you appoint will be more competent'.

"It doesn't matter." You sigh, resting your head on his shoulder. He would enjoy your submission and willing closeness if he didn't see that, by doing so, you only wanted to distract him from the main topic. Clever little witch you were…

"It must be important if you stopped paying attention to your surroundings. You are always alert and aware of the things that happen around you. No matter what. I remember how, during one of our escapades, you were the only one who didn't fall into the trap."

"Well, that one was actually obvious." You say it with a mocking smile, remembering how you had to save him and his soldiers.

For the rest of your life, you will never forget how you had to dig Baron Feyd-Rauth Harkonnen out of the mud and save his ass from the Assassins who planned his execution. Of course, he killed any witnesses, leaving only you and him alive. After all, his uncle and brother couldn't find out about it.

He growls in your ear, tightening his grip on you as a warning, when you make him replay that day in his head.

"Don't brag now. I was… busy observing something much more interesting than muddy swamps." He grumbles, burying his face in the crook of your neck. The warm air he exhales makes you shiver.

"Which was?" You ask shakily, placing your hands over his to stop him from roaming them over your body.

"You." His answer is short and simple, as if it were the most obvious thing you should know. He doesn't hide it anymore; he doesn't keep his desire to himself. He wants you. He craves you. He shows it to you so clearly and thoroughly that you laugh at how naive you were to believe that you had only a friendly, platonic relationship. But how could you not believe that he only saw you as a means to an end when he treated everyone else around him like that? Since he treats people like things to play with and break whenever he wants? How could you have predicted that you would become his obsession, a precious jewel in his collection that he would want to protect and have just for himself? "I'm asking for the last time. What were you thinking about, little witch?" He asks, wrapping his hand around your neck and forcing you to look into his eyes.

You have no escape from him now. And you certainly won't tell him that lately you've been thinking more and more often about how to run away from him, or what would happen if you stayed with the Bene Gesserit, or how your life would have looked if you escaped from them on your own. You wonder if it wouldn't have been better to bury yourself in the sands of Arrakis all those years ago with your friends and die there. You are sure that it would be a much more dignified death.

"I... I thought about Arrakis." You decide to respond safely and carefully, so as not to reveal too much to him. You didn't want him to become suspicious of you. Not when you had to handle him carefully, lest you fulfil any of the Bene Gesserit's sick plans and visions.

"So what about this? Are you scared?"

"No. I am not. I'm never afraid. Fear is the mindkiller. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration." You repeat the mantra automatically without thinking much about it.

You flinch as you realise that you are answering quickly with the Bene Gesserit litany of fear, which they've made you learn by heart. A great deal of anger grows within you as you realise how much they have influenced your life, even so many years after you ran away from them.

"You're quite tense. More than when I usually hold you." He points this out, starting to gently stroke your back in an attempt to relax you. You give him an angry look instead, suddenly understanding why he was irritated with you for reading him and his emotions perfectly when he was the one who was flustered and furious.

It was always easier for you than for him to hit sensitive places or to read the other one like an open book. Apparently, you're not the only one who's learned this over the years. He knew you as well as the back of his hand. He just never showed any trace of concern for your well-being.

You had your… tender moments when you allowed yourselves to be vulnerable with each other once or twice, but you both treated them more as minor lapses in maintaining your impenetrable façade of indifference and neutrality. In the end, everyone is on their own. And looking for a friend in him was a completely stupid thing—an act of true naivety and a sign of self-destruction, maybe even masochism.

"Maybe you shouldn't hold me at all, then?" You growl at him furiously, unable to control yourself. He just frowns, more surprised by your behaviour than offended by this blatant act of disrespect. He had rarely seen you so nervous or furious.

Of the two of you, you were the one who was the most calm and composed. You were always able to hide all your emotions behind a mask of indifference. He's fascinated by how you really behave when you don't have a filter on. He often throws you off your balance only to see your cheeks flush with anger; you take out your anger in a fight (just like him); or you bite your lip to avoid saying something back to his taunts.

"Or maybe you should drop your attitude and just let me do it?" He asks, his lips brushing against your earlobe. He doesn't wait for your response; he simply catches the tip of your ear between his teeth. He bites in gently, sucking and caressing your skin with his lips, as if your ear's superior helix were the sweetest delicacy he could enjoy.

"I'm not fighting or trying to escape, am I?" You respond, enduring his treatment with dignity. At the ship's window, you can see a small smile appear on his lips at your words.

He decides to pull away from you, but he is not giving you even the smallest chance to run away from him. He presses you against the cold glass, entering your personal space even more than when he had you close against his chest. You lift your chin, looking at him defiantly as he puts his hands on your hips.

"You are not. But you also don't want to be here in my arms." He replies, cupping your chin with two fingers. He leans closer, making you feel the metallic scent of blood that still lingers on him, probably from his fight with some prisoners on the ship. "And I don't like it at all." He whispers hoarsely into your ear.

"Since when do you care what others want? I don't remember you spoiling your concubines like that." You snap, causing him to laugh mockingly and shaking his head in amusement.

He leans in, making you tense up slightly. You think he's doing it to kiss you, but instead of feeling his lips on yours, you feel his cheek brush against yours, and his lips blow hot air into your ear again as he whispers softly:

"Because they weren't you, Y/N." You shiver at the sound of his dark, hoarse whisper in your ear. You can't say you don't feel the effects of his... seduction. But you promised yourself long ago that you wouldn't be any man's whore, concubine, plaything, or broodmare. And certainly not HIS. No matter how... tempting he could be.

"And what is so special about me? Hm? My body? My appearance? That I can fight well? You would get bored of me. Like you did with all your concubines."

"Did they understand me like you do? Have you ever seen them look at me as anything other than a wild, bloodless beast in the heat?" He answers your angry questions with his, dismissing your attempt to start a verbal fight with him.

His thumb traces the line of your jaw, examining you closely. Looking into his light blue eyes makes you feel uncomfortable. He shouldn't have reacted to you like that. You weren't used to anything he had been doing these past few weeks. You preferred to fight him than... when he showed you so much tenderness, appreciation, and affection.

"Have I ever looked at you differently?" You ask defiantly. He smiles, licking his plump lips. You give in to this provocation, and, without controlling it at all, you move your gaze to his lips. His dark chuckle makes you look back into his eyes.

"Yes. Yes, you did that... you don't even know how often." He hums, his fingertips moving towards your mouth. He caresses your lips with incredible tenderness and delicacy. He presses on them gently, but you squeeze them as tight as you can, preventing him from doing anything he planned.

You react faster than him. You bite his wandering fingers, take advantage of the fact that he is still trying to process what has just happened, and quickly pull away from him. He laughs, shaking his head, looking at you intently as he deliberately crosses the distance between you two. He doesn't have to say anything for you to see how clearly he's mocking you and daring you to continue to defy him.

"We're not even on Arrakis yet, and you're already delusional, my na-Baron? Or maybe the black sun of Giedi Prime made you start seeing a mirage?"

"If you are a mirage or an illusion, then I never want to be sane again, my little witch." You gasp, as he wraps his arms around you tightly, clinging to you completely. He leans in, his nose tracing a line along your temple, inhaling your scent before burying his face in your hair.

He keeps a firm grip on your shoulders. You place your hands on his, trying to loosen his tight grasp somehow, but it only makes him hold you tighter. He tilts his head slightly and brushes his nose against yours.

You shiver, feeling how close he is and how his musky smell, mixed with a hint of metallic blood, surrounds you. He presses himself against you so tightly that there's practically no space left between your bodies. You close your eyes, letting out a small, shaky breath. And just as he's about to press his lips against yours, the metal door to the room slides open with a loud bang.

You jump away from him, grunting as a young recruit enters your field of vision.

“My lord na-Baron. Lady Y/N. We will land in fifteen minutes."

"We would rather notice it ourselves." Feyd growls at him. You see him reach for the hidden dagger. You walk over to him, resting your chest against his back, and grab his hand before he places it on his dagger and throws it at the poor man.

"Thank you, Oliver." You say with a smile. The man swallows in fear at Feyd's furious glare. He bows and leaves the two of you alone.

You step away from Feyd, letting go of his hand. You frown, seeing that he's even more furious than when one of the soldiers entered. You raise your eyebrow questioningly, not understanding why he's practically huffing in anger now.

"What?" You finally ask him, not understanding the reason behind his behaviour.

"Oliver... do you call all of them by their names?" He asks, spitting out the soldier's name in disgust. You sigh, rolling your eyes as you reach for the shawl he had thrown off you and put it back on your head.

"If I know them, then yes, why?"

"You've never called me anything other than my lord and na-baron." He speaks in an almost accusatory tone. It takes a lot of strength in you not to burst out laughing when you realize he's completely serious and not joking right now. You try to come up with some excuse, wondering how to safely answer his question.

"And you always call me your little witch." You answer. Using his name somehow never felt right to you. At first, out of respect for him, maybe even fear. After all, he saved you from the clutches of the Bene Gesserit. Calling him by his name was out of the question. With time, you did it out of habit. And now… now you didn't want to call him by anything else because you knew that it would be a small step on his way to make you his.

"So this is supposed to be our thing?" He asks with a challenging, teasing smile.

"We don't have a thing." You huff, walking towards the exit. He, of course, follows you faithfully. You can feel the excitement radiating from him. He was definitely planning something big to do on Arrakis. Something he didn't tell you. You just hoped that he would be too busy with his brother and securing the spice mine to take care of you at the same time.

"Don't we?"

"You should focus on what you tell your brother. You're finally taking the reins. Rabban won't give them to you that easily. And we need to establish a final plan of action on Arrakis." You say, returning to your matter-of-fact, cool tone. He smiles, nodding.

"Don't worry about that… I'll make him kiss our shoes." You snort, shaking your head in amusement at his words. It might be true, but it's still hard for you to imagine him actually putting this plan into action. As you'll see in a few minutes, he actually intended to do that. "And the plan was decided a long time ago. I told you I wouldn't let us split up. And not because I question your leadership skills or loyalty. You are the only competent and worthy person to lead half of my army. But we, little witch, work together. Always. You don't change something that works perfectly. Get ready. We're landing soon." He leaves you with a quick kiss on your temple.

He walks away from you with a sly smirk, as if he's managed to trick you. You sigh as you watch him walk out of sight, walking with a spring in his step towards his room, probably to grab his things and get his harpies ready to leave.

You look out the ship's window at Arrakis for the last time. You close your eyes, promising yourself that since the Bene Gesserit, Feyd Rautha, Giedi Prime, or the Harkonens hadn't killed you, this damn planet wouldn't do this either. You weren't the same Y/N from 10 years ago. You were more powerful. Your bones won't sink into the sands of this damn dune... you'd even rather become the mother of that Kwisatz Haderach.

You practically jump out of bed with your heart beating fast as you wake up from another nightmare. You sigh shakily, pressing your hand to your mouth, trying to calm your breathing as best as you can as your heart pounds frantically against your chest.

The screams of your companions echo in your ears, and the images of the Fremen pumping the water out of them replay in your head. And that damned sandworm...

“Y/N, look at me.” His cool hands on your bare shoulders and his raspy, commanding tone bring you back to reality.

As soon as you look into Feyd Rautha's blue irises, you stop trembling. You snap out of this strange trance, trying your best to forget about the returning memories that haunted you more often during this week of your stay on Caladan. You suspect that this may have resulted in a rather close relationship with Lady Jessica. You breathe slowly, focusing on his pale skin that looks like snow, illuminated by the moonlight that streams through the window of one of the Caladan's inns.

“Breathe in and out.” He gives you another order. You nod, imitating the pace of his slow breathing as you slowly begin to calm down. "I will kill that witch as soon as I get my hands on her." He growls, brushing your sweaty hair away from your forehead with his hand. You see immense anger in his eyes and the seeds of a plan forming in his head as he thinks of many ways to make that Bene Gesserit pay for your nightmares.

"You can't. She's the prince's mother. Besides, it's not her fault that she recognised me from somewhere. I could have been more careful."

"You covered your face with a mask for an entire week, all the time, even to sleep. What can you call that other than being careful? Besides, the baron knew that these negotiations were doomed to failure anyway. It's not like her suspicions ruined them. I would have decided to leave this damned palace even without it." He assures you, slowly lowering the two of you back onto the mattress. He wraps one arm around you, his tight embrace grounding you in the moment and helping your mind focus entirely on the present rather than the dark memories from your past.

"The Baron will be furious with you. It's all my fault. You should have killed me." You say, focusing your gaze on his daggers, which are strapped to his hip. Feyd follows your gaze and snorts. He grabs your neck, forcing you to lift your head and look into his eyes again.

"And get rid of the only competent right hand I've had in years? I'd rather suffer his punishment for this... small act of disrespect towards the Atreides. And who knows? Maybe he'll even like it? Harkonnen chooses inns over Atreides' palaces. I can always say that I saw rats running freely around my chamber and decided that such conditions are not worthy of a na-Baron and they are an insult to my person that I could not allow them to do." You roll your eyes at him, but you can't help but smirk at him.

Feyd finds himself smiling slightly at the sparkle of amusement in your eyes. He decided he preferred seeing them in your eyes rather than the emptiness and terror that didn't even let you breathe normally. He reveled in the fear of others. But yours brought him more pain than joy. Unpleasant pain.

It was starting to worry him. And maybe he would think about it more if you weren't lying so close to him now, practically in his arms. At his fingertips if he wanted to play with you. But, surprisingly, he didn't. And even if so, he wanted it only if you were as desperate for his touch as he was for yours.

"There are also rats on Giedi Prime. And you have to share a room with me because there's not enough space here for all of us. I'm sure your harpies are furious. You'd probably rather do something else with them, too, than hold me through my nightmares like some scared little child." You tease him, snapping him from his thoughts. He looks at you carefully, admiring the way the beads of sweat on your forehead glisten in the moonlight.

He feels a strange, new desire to make them be caused by him... or rather, by the activity he would subject you to. His gaze returns to your eyes and your lips, and he feels himself harden slightly as his thoughts turn to fantasies about you—something he's been doing a lot more of lately. One of his harpies mentioned something about him moaning your name...

"Maybe you actually deserve this punishment? Such sharp language…" He whispers huskily, tracing the line of your jaw with the pad of his thumb. He watches you carefully, and, as usual, he sees no fear in your eyes. Even when his fingers travel to your neck and then to the fabric of your nightgown, imagine how close he is to touching what you hide from him and everyone else behind your outfits designed to fit you into staying in the shadows and fighting. If he could, he would dress you in the most beautiful silks and jewellery so that he could feast his eyes on the only beautiful view of Giedi Prime. You see a crease form on his forehead as he becomes aware of this strange desire. He removes his hand before he goes too far to come back, and he clears his throat as he focuses his gaze on your eyes again. "What was that? That dream?"

"I... I don't want to talk about it." Feyd feels how you tense up just thinking about your nightmare. If it was anyone else, he wouldn't care. He wouldn't spare a thought or, if he was curious enough, force them to talk. But with you... he just nods and gives you space, turning to lay on his side of the bed.

"Feyd..." His heart beats faster after you use his name for the first time. He turns to your side of the bed so he can fully look at you. He hums, pretending that you're not giving him a heart attack and that he's not replaying the soft, gentle tone with which you said his name in his head. And he wants to hear it again. In many ways. A quiet whisper, a cry, a scream of pleasure as he makes you come... "I... can you..."'

He doesn't wait for you to ask him. And he could. He could make you beg for him to bring you the comfort you need or mock you for being so defenceless and scared, but how can he make you do that when you look at him with those doe eyes? How can he do anything other than pull you into his chest, place his hand on your head, and play with your hair, guiding your face into the crook of his neck as you look at him like no one has ever done before?

He wasn't the type of man you turned to for comfort or solace, and yet here you were, lying next to him, just wanting to feel his safe embrace around you again. He smiles when he feels your breathing and pulse slow as you fall asleep against him, allowing him to be with you in your unconscious state. He could do many things to you. He could slit your throat, stab you in the heart, scalp you of all your beautiful hair, and touch and taste any part of you he wanted. Satisfy himself with you and give yourself to his concubines when he ends using you.

But all he can do, as you sleep so peacefully on his chest, is pull the covers tighter around you and place a gentle kiss on your head. He doesn't remember the last time he felt such peace or the last time he felt wanted—not because of his status or the benefits he could bring to someone, but simply because someone wanted to be close to HIM.

"After all… I guess Caladan isn't that bad, my little witch." He whispers, pressing a kiss on the top of your head.

Feyd liked to think that the moment you first said his name and clung to him after the nightmare for comfort and security (IN HIM) was the moment he fell for you. But the truth was that it was a day later, after his uncle had punished him, inflicting various wounds with a blade on him, that you returned to the Giedi Prime without the expected agreement with Atreides. And, of course, he didn't rat you out. He took the blame. After all, it was his fault. He put your well-being above anything else and ordered to leave Caladan when Lady Jessica became too attentive to you. And he would do it again. He couldn't lose his right hand.

You felt guilty and took care of him. And those few days when you played the role of his nurse were the best ones in his life.

Feyd learned to love pain. Numerous punishments made it impossible for him not to do that. But he loved your gentle touch even more, esepcially when you tried your best to heal him. And he could get a thousand cuts or even more if it was the price of feeling your tender, caring touch on his skin once again.

And lying there with a torn back, looking at your sleeping form next to his bed, ready to meet his every little wish; he promised himself that he would do it. He will feel your hands on his body again. In better, less bloody circumstances. And definitely not with worry staining your beautiful eyes. But desire. Passion. Affection. Maybe even love.

"Uncomfortable, my lord?" You mock him with a little smirk as you both lie on the sand, observing the surroundings.

"Shut up, or I'll put you over my knee." You huff, shaking your head at his words. You know it's the last thing he'll actually do at this point. You use your binoculars to zoom in on a specific sand dune, in the middle of which there should be a Fremen base.

"Someone woke up with his left foot. I thought you'd be more enthusiastic about the upcoming fight." You say, trying to spot any movement, silhouette, or anything that indicates that your informant was right, and this is the place where one of the more important sietches are.

"I am. But it's damn hot here. Besides, sand gets in where it shouldn't." You smile, barely holding back your laughter, as Feyd allows himself to grumble next to you. You squeal in shock as he spanks you. You look away from the dune and give him an offended, shocked look when he chuckles hoarsely at your reaction.

"You're lucky that it's just a desert and that you're not dressed all in black like our soldiers. If this shipment of new equipment, weapons, and uniforms does not arrive this week, I will return to Giedi Prime and slaughter these useless scientists and engineers. Besides, your harpies will probably be more than happy to help you get rid of every little grain of sand from your body."

"Jealous?" He asks as you go back to watching the dunes.

"I wouldn't willingly be around these cannibals even if you paid me." You say, ignoring the fact that he was clearly asking if you were jealous of HIM, not the fact that he has his concubines and you don't. You shiver, feeling his piercing, burning gaze on you.

You're a little annoyed that he's doing practically nothing. Apparently, he too must have felt the effects of spending many weeks in that damn desert, and he had enough. Just like all of you.

"Arrakis brings out your more feisty side… I like it." He takes the binoculars from you and looks in a completely different direction. You snort, trying to see what caught his eye. You frown as you see a sandworm scurrying in the distance. But it wasn't under the sand... "Tell squad six to kill it. Those rats must be moving around again."

"Will you waste the bomb on a sandworm?"

"Only the most important Fremen travel like this. Whoever's on the back of this is not just anyone." You nod. You turn on the communicator and share information with the group, giving them the orders. You feel Feyd's eyes focused on you all the time. You roll your eyes and shift your gaze to his as he continues to stare at you curiously.

"What?"

"You've been here before, right? You may not know the ways of the Fremen, but I can see in your eyes that this planet is no stranger to you."

"The Bene Gesserit prepared us for every circumstance." You answered him deceptively. However, this does not quench his curiosity. And you know that since you're doomed to wait here for a good hour before anything happens, you're doomed to keep him entertained.

"Did they send you to Giedi Prime too?"

"No. But I was often send to Caladan." You say, not realizing how bad a move it was. The wrinkle on his forehead and the gentle tightening of his hand on his blades prove to you what an idiot you are. But you can't keep an eye on the dunes and anticipate his mood swings at the same time. Which he's had quite a lot of since you came to Arrakis. He didn't show it to anyone else, but you could see that the heat was bothering him just as much as it was for all of you.

"Why? Breeding program? Don't tell me you were supposed to be Atreides' pet." He spit out from his mouth the names of the people who were his family's greatest nemeses, as if it were some kind of dead poison. Even though the Atreides were long dead, buried in the sands of Arrakis, he still talked about them with huge hostility.

No. I was supposed to be your pet.

"I don't know." You slide off the sand to get out of sight of your possible opponents. There's no point in observing the area now. You know that your best men and their troops are positioned around you, so you could have left them to make the first attack. For now, you had to defuse a bomb that was about to explode next to you.

"You don't talk about it often. About the Bene Gesserit." He pursues the topic further, following in your footsteps. You both are standing on a small ledge, with your backs pressed against a sandstone. You don't have much space, so you have to rest your arm on his so as not to fall down and crash into the rocks below you.

"I don't want to remember it. I have another life now. Better one." You say, fiddling with your communicator. You issue a surveillance order to the rest of your units and turn it off, waiting for them to notice something. You take the shawl off your head and wipe your sweaty forehead with it.

"I won't let them hurt you again. Or anyone else." You freeze for a moment at his words. All you can do is stare at him in shock as he reaches for your face and grabs your hair. He ties them awkwardly, making sure they don't get in your face. It's a sweet gesture... even too sweet for him. And you wonder how the hell he knows how to tie someone's hair back.

You are about to tie your shawl around your forehead again when Feyd suddenly takes it from you. He wipes the back of your neck and makes sure there isn't a single bead of sweat on your face before he ties your shawl around his wrist.

"Who said they hurt me?" You ask, swallowing. You try to hide the tremble in your voice, but you suddenly become very aware of how close you are to each other. And that you two are completely alone...

"Your eyes and actions tell me more than you can let through your mouth, little witch."

"Shut up, or I'll put you over my knee." You respond with what he told you earlier without thinking much about it.

You gasp in shock as he presses you against the sandstone behind you, guiding the two of you deeper. His dilated pupils, slightly clenched jaw, and rapid breathing confirm how fucked up you are. You've lost your damn guard. Again. And now he will use it to his advantage.

"Oh, my darling little witch… you don't know how much I want you to do this…" He growls in your ear. His nose traces a path from your hair to your neck, inhaling your scent. You shiver as his lips brush against your neck.

"What are you doing?" You moan as he sucks your neck and bites it lightly, leaving a hickey there. He moves his head away from you and looks at the trail he created. He hums lightly, planning where to leave the next one. And another one. And another. And another...

"Shhh... We have a few minutes before they stop bombarding them. Another few before the dust settles and before we enter those rats' canals... let me make sure that my right hand is properly relaxed in the meantime."

As usual, he doesn't give you time to respond. He leans down and captures your lips in a passionate kiss. His chapped lips brush against yours, gently urging you to open your mouth for him. You try to tighten them as best you can, but he somehow manages to bite your lip, which makes him immediately clear the way for his tongue.

You gasp as his hands cup your ass. His fingers dig into your flesh, and you know that if it weren't for the thick tactical suit, it would have left bruises in the shape of his fingers. He picks you up without breaking the kiss and presses you against the stone-sand wall of the small cave.

You moan as his bulge rubs against your clothed core. You dig your fingers into his shoulders, holding yourself up as he peppers your neck with hickeys, grinding against you.

On Giedi Prime, you would struggle with him, trying to break free from his grip. But here, while you've been busy planning, tracking, fighting, and increasing your spice production for the last few weeks, you haven't had any opportunity... to take care of yourself. He wasn't helping either, following you around and acting like a fucking guard dog. And from what you heard from your room next to his in the night, he wasn't denying himself anything. Damn bastard.

What you didn't know was that he was fucking his fist thinking about you all this time because, since the two of you shared a bath, none of his concubines have been able to please him. So he's just as desperate as you are.

You moan as he thrusts into you, especially hard. He also purrs against your neck at the sounds you make. You're well aware that if it didn't take you forever to put your clothes back on, he'd already have you naked beneath him, fucking you wildly and giving you orgasm after orgasm... and you almost want to let him. If only those fucking witches weren't planning on breeding you with him, you would have been riding him wild a long time ago.

At one point, he bites into your neck, making you scream uncontrollably. You blush furiously when he pulls away from your neck with your blood on his full lips and gives you a hungry, lustful look.

"Take off your pants." He orders you. He licks the blood from his lips and leans down to lick the rest from your neck, leaving a few more hickeys on it.

"We… can't… we... battle..." He suddenly stops making any movements, but instead of moving away from you, as you think he will, he grabs you tightly by the throat. He squeezes lightly and leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. He breathes deeply and heavily, nuzzling his nose against yours before opening his eyes to fix his wide pupils on yours.

"Are you defying me?" You shake your head, always being a good soldier. "Good girl. Pants down, or I'll rip them off, and you'll have to walk back to the base without them."

This is a very real threat. And even though you know he would rather kill any man who dares to look at you in this state than expose you to the… lust of the hundreds of men who were on the base, you have no desire to parade around Arrakis with your bare ass. You start to take off your pants, slowly unbuttoning them. He won't even let you take them off of you all the way. As soon as he sees your exposed pussy, he drops to his knees in front of you, holding your hips in a tight grip.

"She blocks me so much when she has a damn spring between her legs… a real desert oasis…" He mumbles, his fingers collecting your wetness. You gasp as he looks you straight in the eye, sucking your juices from his finger. You lick your lips unconsciously, your brain completely stunned by the suddenness of the situation, the lust overwhelming you, the sight of him on his knees for you, as well as the spice in the air.

You don't even protest when he licks the stripe of your pussy and tightens his grip on your hips, pressing his face against your crotch. As he begins to lick and suck on your more sensitive parts, you scratch his scalp with your nails in a vain attempt to grab something. His dark, raspy chuckle against your clit makes you even wetter, as the vibrations and fingers teasing your entrance only fuel your desire.

He eats you like he's really dying of thirst. He brings out in you sounds that you would be ashamed of if you were in a better, saner, more aware state. And you try to maintain the last of your dignity and stifle your moans by placing a hand over your mouth, but he growls in protest and removes your hands so quickly that you have no idea when it happened. He places it on his shoulder, encouraging you to dig your nails into him as he devours you like his life depends on it. Like he would die if he didn't make you cum, lick up every last bit of wetness from between your legs.

At one point, he puts your leg over his shoulder. He's even closer to you (if possible), but you're not really paying attention to what he's doing as long as his mouth and fingers are still working their magic on you. You pull him closer, chasing your sweet release, when suddenly, he pulls away.

You growl in anger, opening your eyes. He's still on his knees in front of you, his face covered in your juices, and he's staring at you hungrily as if his face wasn't buried in your pussy moments ago.

"Say my name." His demand throws you off balance for a moment. You open your mouth to argue with him, to taunt him, but instead you close it quickly, biting your lip as his finger lazily moves in and out of your needy pussy. "Scream my name and I'll let you cum."

You don't want to give in to him like that. You don't want to show any weakness. But his fingers stretch you so wonderfully, hitting your most sensitive spot. You tremble around his fingers, biting your lip until it draws blood, too proud to admit to yourself how weak you were.

You escaped from the Bene Gesserit and from your fate to the only safe place; it's darkest under the lamp. No one in their right mind would willingly hide in the house of the man to whom you were supposed to submit. But it turned out that you were following the path these witches laid out for you anyway. But damn, he made you feel like you'd never felt with any man or woman...

You growl furiously as he removes his fingers again—right when you're finally about to come. He laughs hoarsely, sucking his fingers clean of your wetness.

"You're extending my fun, little witch. You must like it as much as I do." You protest as he dips his fingers inside you again, taking you close the edge again. You grab his neck, trying to pull him towards you, but he just laughs, intensifying the work of his fingers and fending off your feeble attempts to pull his face back to your needy cunt. "You know what you have to do to cum." He reminds you with a cocky smirk, watching your trembling, panting form.

Feyd drinks in the sight of you, so needy and desperate to orgasm. And it's all because of him. Every little moan, the closing of your eyes and the tilt of your head in pleasure, the ragged breathing, the quickening of your heartbeat, the wetness between your legs, the sweet nectar of the gods dripping down your thighs—it was all because of him. His cock hardens as he imagines how you'll react as he pounds into you like an animal in heat, stretching your tight walls for him. How you'll clench around his length and dig your nails into his back to feel him as close to you as possible. Or when you swell beautifully with his heir...

He will have you there. Willingly. He will prepare you as he is now; he will fuck out of you any thought until nothing except the desire for him remains.

"Feyd..." You moan as he unconsciously speeds up the movements of his fingers, thrusting them into you at breakneck speed. He smiles, blowing air at your pussy, making you moan even louder.

"Again." He demands, licking the small trail of your juices that has formed on your thighs. He welcomes the way you wet his hand and your shawl that was wrapped around his wrist. He'll save it for later this night.

"Feyd!" You pull on his head and he obliges. He couldn't be cruel to you in this state.

You come suddenly, quickly, and intensely. Your vision is blurry and unclear, and your blood is rushing through you as you moan loudly, holding on to him with all your might.

The next thing you know, he's holding you tightly by your trembling legs as he lowers you to his lap. You straddle him, hugging him tightly as you breathe slowly, trying to get back to a state of relative using after he fucked the orgasm of your life out of you. You hide your face in his neck, too disappointed in yourself to see the proud smirk on his face. He lazily rubs your back, holding you as you regain your strenght.

"You owe me, little witch. And you know, I always collect my debt." He growls hoarsely in your ear and presses a kiss on your temple. You can smell your scent on him. You blush, embarrassed, as you can feel desire rising in you again. "No response? Not a single malicious comment? Did I make you come so hard that now you are speechless? Are you really just a little mouse in need of my attention under that strong witch façade?"

"I'm not a fucking mouse." You snap at him in anger, finally coming to your senses.

"So that's the first one. Even better for me." He stands up, slowly carrying you from his lap to the ground. He reaches for your pants and helps you put them on. He grabs your hands and pulls you closer to him. You can't stand alone. You can't fucking stand alone. He laughs as he realises it, which irritates you to the point where you can't control yourself anymore.

"Shut up." You use your voice on him before you bite your tongue to stop yourself. Silence falls between you for a moment. You swallow, realising what you've done. You open your mouth to explain yourself, but, as usual, he beats you to it.

"Hmm… interesting. So you have that fire in you…" He tangles his hand in your hair and watches you closely, fascinated by the way you used your voice on him for the first time. "As sweet as I thought. Better than any water… Use that voice on me in a way I don't like, and I will really punish you, little witch. And this time, it will only be pleasant for me. Understood?" You nod your head with clenched teeth. "Good girl. Let's go. I believe they stopped dropping bombs right when you came on my face and fingers." He brags, letting you go when he sees you can stand on your own. You roll your eyes, realising how often he'll brag about it. You draw your blade and follow him, looking forward to hunting for Fremen.

You try to ignore the sand that… got where he was a few seconds ago and where he had it himself too. Damn bastard.

You walk through the corridors of your base. You're covered in blood, but it doesn't bother you much. Maybe a little when you remember that you will have to remove clotted blood from your hair. You sigh, adjusting the scarf around your neck that you took from some fremen to hide the hickeys as you walk to the war room to give new orders to the soldiers.

The Sietch has been completely destroyed by you. You murdered most of the fremen, and those left alive were taken prisoner... or to the camp brothel. You preferred not to go into details.

As you walk through the halls, you hear rustling behind you. You take a few slow steps and turn around, with your hand on your dagger, only to see na-Baron's harpies. You tense up as you watch the three women carefully and distrustfully.

"How can I help you?" You ask them, trying to avoid showing them genuine disgust and hostility. After all, they had somehow kept Feyd away from you… for now.

"The little witch is in trouble…"

"Our master will be very angry with her…"

"Maybe he'll even let us suck her bones when he's done with her…"

They say one by one, tilting their heads as they observe you. You shiver slightly, but you quickly adopt a hostile, intimidating stance, not caring much about what they say. They may have been cannibals, but you were a trained soldier and killer. You would kill them in a heartbeat if they weren't useful to you in some way.

"What do you want, vultures?" You growl at them, expecting them to get scared and return to their master's chamber, waiting for him like faithful dogs.

"The little witch's friend is here…"

"Our master is interrogating her…"

"And he learns very interesting things about the witch."

"When he's done with her, he'll be ours again."

"We will eat her meat and feast, celebrating our victory."

And what really should scare you more is the part about them saying they're going to eat you, but all you can think about is that friend he's interrogating. Another Bene Gesserit? Impossible. You made sure that everyone who came into contact with you either believed you were dead or forgot that you existed. Except for one… No. No, that wasn't possible.

"I have the blood of hundreds of rats on me. Get out of my sight unless you want yours to adorn my armor. And believe me… I will do it with great pleasure. I bet your master would fuck me on your corpse as a reward." You snap at them, still processing what may have been happening in the interrogation room. If your suspicions were true... you didn't even want to think about it. This couldn't be happening. You're paranoid. After so many years of keeping everything a secret... you couldn't lose control that easily.

You pay them no further attention and continue walking, ignoring their hisses and mocking laughter as you change your plans and head to the interrogation room.

You had to run away. As far away from here as possible. But if you do, he will chase after you. And when he finds you, and there is no doubt that he will, he will gut you and throw your remains to his harpies.

So you couldn't escape. You had to face him and try to tame him somehow. But how the hell are you going to explain to him that you ran away from the Bene Gesserit with him because you didn't want to be his concubine? Maybe a few years ago he would have understood it, but now that he has found this strange obsession with you, how could you get out of this situation? He'll cut you up before you even try to say anything.

You pass soldiers standing at the door of the interrogation room. They nod at you, letting you in as you hesitantly walk over to see for yourself if the situation is actually as dire as you think.

You feel the cold metal door on your back as it closes behind you with a bang. You freeze in place, swallowing nervously, as you see the Fremen Reverend Mother handcuffed to a chair. What scares you much more than the fact that it is really a Bene Gesserit is that it's Lady Jessica. Your former trainer in that sick sisterhood.

Feyd is standing right in front of her. His hands are gripped tightly around his daggers, and his gaze is focused on the woman in front of him. He strokes the blade of his dagger with his thumb as he is lost in his thoughts. He behaved as if he were completely oblivious to you, but you know him better than to even think for a while that he didn't notice your entrance. But he doesn't say anything as he continues to stare at her intently.

"She can tell you that herself. Right, Y/N?" Lady Jessica looks at you, raising an eyebrow defiantly. Even captured, she looks proud, as if she were the one who had power over what was happening in the room. "I should thank you. If it weren't for you, Paul would never have taken over the Kwisatz Haderach's way. No matter how hard I tried..."

"Feyd…" You ignore her and walk over to Harkonnen. You place a hand on his shoulder, but he just flinches at your touch, moving away from you. His eyes were fixed on the floor; he wasn't giving you even a single glance.

"I'm not surprised. If they sent me to breed with such a monster, I would also run away... not necessarily into his arms, but I really admire your skillful mind. To come up with such intrigue. No one would ever imagine that a little scared girl would run straight into the lion's mouth to take shelter there. I remember how you cried down my skirt when you found out what your mission was. I never would have imagined that my apprentice would go so far."

"Silence!" You shout at her, using the voice, and surprisingly, you succeed. You don't have time to try to understand what just happened—that you used your voice against a much stronger woman than you, the Reverend Mother. You walk up to Feyd and cup his cheek with your hand, forcing him to look at you.

His gaze is blank. He's wearing his mask, blocking out any emotions that might get through and reveal what he's thinking. He takes your hand and moves it away from his face, pushing you away from him like a bug.

"Would you like to see a monster, concubine of the Atreides? I'll be more than happy to show you one…" Before either of you can react, Feyd swings, creating a long gash across her chest. The woman gasps in shock, placing her hand on her wound, from which blood is now flowing down on the floor.

Before you can take a breath to talk some sense into him, he plunges the blade into her chest. You tremble as you hear the sound of cracked bones under the movement of his dagger and the witch's screams.

You don't do anything. You just stand there, watching as Feyd takes out his anger on her, disembowelling her. The metallic smell of blood hits your nostrils, but even that doesn't cause you to react. All you can do is stand and watch. And wait for your turn.

You feel sick as Lady Jassica's screams remind you of your friends who died on Arrakis. You deny what's happening in front of you as your thoughts return to that fateful day.

You weren't sent to Arrakis to try to survive. No, the plan created by Bene Gesserit was much worse. You were sent there to kill each other. This sick test was intended to eliminate weak individuals, leaving only one Bene Gesserit alive, the one who was the strongest among the young generation of women trained by these mad witches.

You were sent on one ship, thrown into the desert with weapons and one bottle of water, as an act of mercy. There were fifty of you. You killed half of them. Or at least that's what the Reverend Mothers told you after the Sisterhood took you back from there..

You were the only one left alive.

From that day on, you promised yourself that you would never let them control your life or make you go through these tests again. You didn't want to take part in their sick games ever again. You preferred to die rather than become their tool again, a monster that blindly follows their orders.

You never wanted to feel powerless or furiously frustrated again.

And now, standing there and staring blankly as Feyd killed the woman who was your mentor in front of you, you felt as if you were once again that helpless girl who is forced to do as she is told and who has no power over anything that is happening around her.

You flinch as blood reaches your shoes. You look up to see Na-Baron turning towards you. Blood was dripping down his armour as he cleaned his blades on her clothes, which were already soaked in blood.

For a moment, you delude yourself, thinking that it's not what you think. That he didn't actually discover the truth about your past in the Bene Gesserit by accident. That everything will be all right, just how it used to.

But by the look in his icy-blue eyes, you know he knows. He gives you the same angry, bloodthirsty glare that he gives his victims moments before they die. But there's something else there. Pain. Betrayal. Without knowing why, you feel a flood of guilt wash over you, outweighing your fear. But you didn't owe him anything. No loyalty or sincere devotion.

You gasp as he pushes you against the wall and presses the knife to your neck, breathing heavily. You feel it gently pierce your skin, causing blood to leak from the wound and run down your neck. He doesn't move away. He doesn't bend down to lick it off your skin. He presses further and harder, looking straight into your eyes. And you don't know if he's just testing you or if he really wants to kill you.

Suddenly, fucking him wasn't the worst solution to the situation you found yourself in...

Part IIITaglist: (I hope that everyone is here...) @thegabbyh @himesuedi @wo-ming-bai @beebeechaos @mamawiggers1980 @moonsoulk @avidreader73 @heartarianagran @dreamlandcreations @ancientbeing10 @lovereadingfanfic @jeansjoie @workof-a-rr-t @aixicl @ladyredstar1991 @evangelineimagine @hobobobo-fett56 @happyant3 @marsflys @aaaaaamond @kamcrazy123 @k1swass @yum-yahgurt @tyns13 @oh-you-mean-me @menari @tyns13

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twola · 1 month ago

Text

Defying Conventions II

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI, A/B/O

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link ➵ Previous Please be warned -cw: omegaverse, breeding kink, impregnation, pregnant sex, graphic birth. If those things bother you, then this is not the fic for you.

I feel like I am taking a big risk with this one. As someone who has recently gone through childbirth, it is definitely a traumatic thing, even when things go well. I write as a coping mechanism for trauma - so here it is.

It’s all going to shit.

Hosea. Lenny. Dead. John just busted out of Sisika. The bank robbery in Lemoyne gone completely south - and being marooned on that godforsaken island.

Not to mention Dutch and his behavior. Seems like Micah is in the man’s ear more than anyone else nowadays.

Beaver Hollow is miserable - damp, in these dark, dusty hills of Roanoke. It's stifling, the misery this place exudes.

“Arthur-”

Arthur whips around, ready to snap at yet another person asking him to do something-

It’s you. Your cheeks are the slightest bit flushed. His hackles settle, temper calmed by the nearness of his other half.

“What d’ya need, darlin’?” He smiles as he raises his hand to welcome you into an embrace.

You don’t move, causing him to frown.

“I… uhm, I-” You stumble slightly, your hand unconsciously moving to your neck, where you have pinned a shawl to cover your skin.

Realization dawns on him, and a low, dull ache begins to burn in his gut.

“Y’ sayin’ we need to get away for a few days?”

You sheepishly shake your head, cheeks flushed. His smile returns and he takes the step to move closer. He wraps his arms around you, clutching you to him. You sigh and melt into his strong embrace.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble into his chest, shuddering slightly as you can feel your heat closing in on you. Tomorrow you’d be a blithering mess.

Arthur presses his lips to your forehead.

“Reckon that’s the best thing anyone’s asked me to do in a while.”

“You ain’t mad?” You look up at him, incredulous.

“Am I mad about my mate askin’ me to get away from this shithole for a few days and spend the hours ruttin’ away?”

“I just hate being so… needy. Dumb omega shit.” You sigh, burying your head in his chest again.

Arthur sighs knowingly, then grins as he pulls the shawl down to expose your neck and immediately buries his head against your clammy skin.

You yelp in surprise and arousal as you feel his tongue press against your mating gland - it’s a good thing that he has one arm strong around your waist, or else you would be stumbling to the ground.

Arthur groans quietly, squeezing you gently. “I’m yer alpha. Y’know what I need? I need to satisfy you.”

You try to push him back, afraid that you’re going to go into heat standing here in the middle of camp as he nuzzles at your neck. Alas, your lover is built like a brick wall, and it is only after quite a bit of fidgeting and you trying to yank your shawl back up that he takes the hint.

“Annesburg? Or d’ya want to go further?” He drawls as you try to collect yourself.

You scowl up at him, “After that, we’ll need to go to Annesburg. Now.”

Arthur smirks, his eyes hidden under the rim of that old gambler’s hat. “Say less, darlin’ girl. Say less.”

It’s a miracle that you can stand upright, there in the gunsmith’s shop as Arthur leans on the counter. While he had been in the foulest of moods earlier in the day, he’d found a second wind the moment you told him you needed him - suddenly acting full alpha - cocky and possessive and hell-bent on getting you desperate for him.

Christ, the whole ride down from Beaver Hollow was near excruciating - Arthur having dragged you onto the saddle in front of him, pressed against him completely, instead of pulling you up on his horse’s rump. Leaning over every so often and nipping at your neck. Groping your breast after passing another rider on the road. By the time the two of you had ridden into the dusty mine town, the flush that had dusted your cheeks before extended down your neck and chest.

“One room. ‘nd here’s extra to not bother us for a few days.”

The poor gunsmith blanches, completely understanding the threatening tone in Arthur’s voice. He nods, handing the alpha a key, muttering directions to the room, in the building next to the shop.

Arthur smirks, turning around and grabbing your arm, guiding you quickly to the room. Punching the key into the lock, he opens the door and watches as you stumble inside. A rumble, all alpha, punches out of his chest as you wipe at your brow, leaning against the wardrobe in the room.

“I’m just gonna get the horse straight. Be back in a minute.” Arthur calls back as he steps out of the room, leaving you to pant wearily as you survey the room that you’re going to lock the two of you in for the next couple of days.

You whine as you paw at the shawl hiding your neck, finally unlatching it and throwing it unceremoniously to the floor. Feverishly unbuttoning your blouse, you pull your arms out of it and toss it aside as well. You’re yanking the straps of your chemise down your arms and baring your breasts as Arthur re-enters the room. Your chemise hangs around your waist as your hands cup your breasts, your breath coming in short, fast pants.

“Need it that bad, omega?” Arthur purrs, pushing your hands away from your chest and placing his own atop your breasts, squeezing gently as you moan.

“Don’t - don’t be cruel- I’m…shit, I’m in heat.” You gasp out as his thumb traces over your nipple. Your knees shake as your hands grasp at him, and you feel your bloomers dampen as your slick begins to come.

One of Arthur’s hands moves from your breast to your waist and immediately starts yanking at your skirts, loosening the waist and pushing them down, along with your bloomers, to pool on the floor at your ankles, leaving you completely bare.

“I’ve got you, darlin’ girl,” Arthur grasps one of your hands and presses it against his massive erection in his pants, and you mewl desperately, craving the way he fills you.

“Go on, get on the bed.” He nods to you and you shakily follow his order, laying down on the bed and opening your legs, rubbing at your throbbing core, watching as your alpha undresses himself. Jacket and work shirt, denim and union suit, they are all shed as you watch, touching yourself all the while.

He goes to climb into the bed with you as you catch a glimpse of his eyes - the faintest red rim around those blue pools.

You groan, a pained cry from your chest, and he stops immediately. Your heat has fully set in, and your body jolts in furious need. You sit up rapidly, trying to gain some semblance of control over yourself.

“I.. you… you begin to rut, there’s a chance-” you suck in a breath against the cramping pain, “I’ll take.”

Arthur hovers over you. “Is that what you want?”

A pained gasp is all you can reply.

“It hurts-” you moan, crumbling forward in the bed, clutching at your lower abdomen. Arthur’s large, warm hands find your sides immediately and gently push you to lay fully on your stomach.

“Hands and knees, let me take care of you.”

You breathe heavily, labored, through your mouth, your fever making you weak. You let him maneuver you however he wants, having lost the strength to do anything else. Your limbs are drawn under you, and your head presses heavily into the old pillow. He positions himself behind you, grabbing your hips and hoisting them up. You moan throatily into that pillow as he takes one hand to stroke his cock into full rigidity.

Before he presses inside, it hits you. You push up on your elbows and he stops, rubbing your lower back. You breathe out against another cramp that shudders through your body. “You… you’re gonna…”

All of the hotheadedness of being an alpha vanishes.

“Honey we don’t have to - it’s what you want.”

You swallow. He’s in position to mount you, the most base and primal of ways to slake this biological need. The complete and utter submission of an omega to their alpha. Some say it’s an old wives tale, but omegas know - they are taught very early on, that being mounted was supposedly the best way to breed - the surest way to conceive a child. That if they were caught out in the world by an alpha, to fight like hell to not be mounted.

“What do you want, Arthur?”

He leans over you and you feel his lips on your shoulder as one of his hands gently grasps the crest of your hip.

“I wanna spend my days wit’ you.”

“That don’t answer the question.” You suck in another breath against the pain.

He pets your cunt gently, making you shiver as his knuckle parts your folds. “I’ll be happy either way. If you wanna spend our days ridin’ as partners or raisin’ children - I’ll be there as your mate.”

“And… and if I want…?” You gasp out against the pain, your slick starting to run down his knuckle all the way to his wrist, “If I want to have your child?”

He groans loudly and removes his hand from your cunt, immediately smearing your slick all over his cock and he pumps it vigorously. His opposite hand clamps hard on your hip, yanking you up to align with his swaying pelvis.

“Omega-” he growls, all predator, with the blunt head of his cock pressed against the seam of you, probing against the rim of your cunt, raring to plunge into your body, “I’ll breed you right, girl.”

His voice is rough, his tone warning. Another sway of his hips and his cockhead slips in, you do your part and press your hips back to take him, to urge him forward. You moan throatily into the pillow as he presses inside - somehow his cock feels bigger, thicker in this position than at any other time.

“Fuck, darlin’.” Arthur curses when he’s fully sheathed inside you, hands strong on your hips. On his knees behind you, he guides you on and off of his cock as he thrusts his hips in tandem. The bed squeaks with the movement of your bodies. You clench the pillow hard as your lover picks up the pace, fucking into you frantically.

With each powerful thrust of him into you, you feel his knot start to grow, stretching you with a pain that you crave. If you were able to turn around and look up at him, you’d see his eyes rimmed in red. But you could tell, with the way his hands clamp on your hips, the hardness of his cock - you know he’s gone into rut.

He slows, breathing heavily through his nose, reminiscent of a beast of burden.

“Darlin’-” his voice is rough and thick with arousal, “Last chance, omega. D’ya want me to put a baby in you?”

You shudder, hissing at the finality of his implication as you feel the trickle down your neck from your mating gland of that sweet, pheromone-filled oil.

“Yes.” You whine, “Yes, Arthur, let me - give me, ngh-” you throw your hips backward to spear yourself on his hard cock, “Breed me.”

“Fuck-” Arthur groans, and almost immediately, his knot swells, stretching the rim of your cunt as he locks himself into you. You whine against the pain-pleasure of it all.

Here you are, on your hands and knees, alpha mounting you, waiting for him to breed you - oh, what a place to be in - what a situation you thought you would never be in. Arthur quickly leans over you, plastering his chest over your back, his strong arms caging you in on either side of your own. It’s terrifyingly intimate as he breathes loudly through his nose, nipping at the gland on your neck.

The world slows.

“I love you,” he rumbles into your ear, and gives one more thrust into you, knot keeping him snugly in your cunt, “I love you - I love you -” He babbles before sucking one final breath in.

Every nerve of yours is alight. You’ve never felt so in tune with your body. For one final instant, you shiver, your womb ready to accept. One final cramp of need, lower than ever, and you know it is the way your body sings for your mate. Your heart stops. Your cunt clenches at Arthur’s cock, as if it were begging for him the same way you shamelessly are.

Splayed over you, his lips quickly find your gland and he sucks, you gasp, and then you can feel it - deep in your body, you feel the warmth of his seed, his cock pulsing in your cunt as he fills you.

The sound he makes is beautiful, a moan that transcends physical need. No, this was more. This was your mate, this was breeding, this was the pinnacle of what you were born for. This was creation. The swell of emotion overflows as tears burst from your eyes. You let out a crooning moan of your own as you take him, you take all of him, every pulse of him into your womb.

The moment seems to last forever. Heaving, panting, groaning, Arthur empties himself into you, locked at the hilt, your body shaking at the sheer implication of it all. For once in your life, your omegahood was not a curse. Your alpha, bent over you, mounted and pumping his hot spend into you.

Arthur gasps like a fish out of water once he’s done. The roaring of your heart in your chest seems to overpower everything. You sob loudly and he immediately sobers and moves the two of you to lay on your sides on the bed, still locked at the hips. He brushes back a lock of your hair, “Honey, are you alri-?”

“I love you,” you cry out, taking his hand and pulling it to your breast, over your heart. “Arthur I love you, I need you - you’re everything-”

He settles in behind you, his knot still locked strong within your body.

“Honey darlin’ girl…” You can feel him smile into your hair, “Mate.”

All of the fierceness, the rough possession, it all has faded as Arthur gently nuzzles the back of your head. You pull his hand down to your belly, right to the cradle of your hips, to splay out over your womb. “Our child - Arthur.”

He presses against your hot skin, arms wrapped tightly around you, and the next thing you know, that overwhelming warmth shoots through your cunt again as he breathes out heavily.

“Gonna make sure I give you one.” He groans, voice rough as he shallowly pumps his hips against your rear, another round of spend coating your insides.

You mewl, accepting him, rolling your hips as you make another noise of desperation.

“Y‘okay?” He asks, his arm tightening around you.

You whine, wiggling your hips, testing the strength of his knot. He growls in your ear, one of his hands shooting down to your cunt and forcing your legs apart and the other wound under your ribcage, engulfing and squeezing one of your breasts.

Arthur sucks in a breath and nuzzles the back of your neck. His hips jut forward once again, and his cock swells within you.

“Got one last one in me - gonna, gonna g-give you-“

Your entire body quivers in anticipation, and you grab Arthur’s hand from your breast and spread it over your lower belly, holding your hand over his. Over where you will grow and create and swell with child, his child.

“Give me a baby, Arthur-”

Arthur grunts, cock pulsing, and you mewl as you feel the bleeding warmness of him exit his body and enter yours. Gentle waves of him, dripping down and over his knot, smearing across both his and your thighs. A physical sign that he’s filled your cunt to the brim with his seed.

Finally, as the two of you breathe heavily from near-exhaustion, Arthur’s knot recedes enough that he is able to pull himself from you. Arthur slides himself from your body gently, and you whine as his inches leave you. He leans over you and kisses your temple. “I’ll get us some food. Get some rest.”

You turn over in the bed to face him, rubbing gently at your belly. You smile, mischievously.

“I like you mountin’ me.”

Arthur scowls at you, “Jesus Christ, you can’t just say that. We’ll never leave this bed if you keep acting like that.”

You simply smile, leaning in and taking his lips with yours, throwing your leg over his hip, preventing him from leaving the sanctity of the bed. One of his hands rounds your hip to cup your ass.

Shivering slightly, you involuntarily clench as you feel another trickle of his essence leak from your cunt. You look down between you, Arthur’s eyes following yours. You unwind your leg from his hip and turn to lie on your back.

Your dark hair has lovely drips of white coursing through it, and Arthur groans quietly when he sees it. He reaches, collecting that viscous rivulet on his finger, and you watch intently as he looks back at you, raising his brow as he trails his finger through your thatch of hair.

He lovingly, gently presses it back in, and you whine with oversensitivity at the feeling of his thick trigger finger slipping through the sore rim of your cunt. Arthur takes your lips with his, smothering your complaint.

After several moments, he extracts his hand, leaning back on his elbow. He nuzzles against your neck, the now-faded ring left by his teeth those weeks ago. “When will you know if you took?”

You shrug, “I guess when my heat ends. Never really paid attention much to them omega lessons…What happens now?”

Arthur rolls onto his back, stretching himself out in the bed, looking up at the moisture-stained ceiling of the rented room. “Things are endin’ with the gang. As much as it kills me to say it…”

You move closer to him, laying your head upon his chest. “And us…?”

“You’re my mate. You’re hopefully carrying my child. Ain't gonna make the mistakes I’ve made in the past.”

You fiddle with a strand of your long, messy hair. “I know we’re mates and all but…” you trail off, eyes trained on the strand of hair instead of him.

“Let’s get Swanson to marry us,” Arthur says, winding his arm around you again.

A smile blooms across your face and you immediately sit up and kiss him, hard, dragging him back down to the bed.

You awaken the next day in the mid-morning, when the sun is already high in the sky. Arthur’s already up, sitting on the side of the bed, half-dressed. He looks back at you as you stretch your arms overhead. Yawning, you run your hands down your body to rest at the cradle of your hips.

A warmth blooms under your hand. You don’t know how to explain it, but you’re sure you took.

His large hand covers yours.

“Thinkin’ so?”

You nod, looking back at him, unable to stop yourself from smiling. You push yourself up and crash into his embrace.

“But you know, can never be too sure.” You giggle.

A spark of amusement shoots through those river-blue eyes of his.

“Get on your knees, omega. Let’s make sure.”

Months Later…

“Absolutely not.”

You frown, pouting reminiscent of a petulant child. You have to stop yourself from stomping your foot on the old wooden floor.

“Ain’t no way in hell am I mountin’ you when you're this close to giving birth.” Arthur scowls at you, looking you up and down with a set jaw and exasperated tone.

“C’monnn…” You tease, taking your hands and running them down your ribcage to highlight your quite large belly under the fabric of your dress.

“No. Christ, it’s hard enough not to go into rut when you’re just sleeping next to me.” Arthur shakes his head, turning away from you, trying to distract himself.

“Gentle?” You wind your way around him, your hand tracing up his back.

“Woman….” He gives a warning tone, but you can tell that you are wearing him down.

“Please, alpha.” You press yourself against him suggestively, taking one of his hands and placing it over the swell of your belly, “You need to take care of your omega.”

His fingers pulse over your skin, and with a sigh, he gives in, “I ain’t knotting you, no matter how much you beg. Christ, I shouldn’t even be entertainin’ this.”

With a giggle, your fingers fly to where his suspenders are fastened to his black work pants, and before he can even react, you have one unclipped. He snatches your hands away from his waist and holds them up above your head.

“You are the most troublesome-”

You lean up on your and kiss him, effectively silencing his retort. When you pull away, you smile up at him, and he cannot help but give the smallest smile back.

“Like I was sayin’, troublesome. C’mon now, get in bed.” Arthur playfully swats at your hip as you grab his hand, pulling him toward the bedroom.

The small cabin could use some updating - but for the soon-to-be three of you, the small homestead tucked away in the hills of Ambarino is exactly what you never knew you needed. A small bedroom, a bed tucked over in the corner, a fireplace, and an old, beaten-up dresser - for all the time you’d spent running, sleeping in tents and on bedrolls - having a home with your husband was something you’d never think you’d have.

As you reach the bed, he stops you and spins you around, holding you upright all the while. Arthur leans down and presses his lips against yours, one hand pulling at your dress, gathering up the skirts, bunching them up, raising them up, up to your hips. With an awkward shimmy with your belly hanging low, your bloomers pool to the floor with a quick tug from Arthur’s fingers.

“C’mon - lay down,” Arthur taps your hip and motions to the bed.

You raise your eyebrows as he undoes his other suspender, about to comment on how dressed the two of you still are.

“No-” he warns, “You take everythin’ off and I’m definitely knotting you. And we aren’t doin’ that.”

You’re about to complain again but are cut off as he pushes you, gently, down onto the bed before shoving his pants and short drawers down his saddle-hewn thighs.

At that sight, you quickly lay down, rolling onto your side as you hike your skirts up to bare your cunt.

“Thought so, troublesome.” Arthur jokes as he slides himself into bed behind you, the skin of his pelvis and cock warm against your rear.

It takes some awkward maneuvering - everything is awkward when you are this far gone, but finally, he slowly presses himself into you, and you sigh in contentment.

It’s everything he is not to slam his hips into you, to knot you, to claim claim claim. But he needs to be soft, to be gentle, to be careful.

You moan appreciatively when he gives a shallow pulse of his hips. The sheath of your body feels like a live wire - primed and ready to snap at any time. The pace he finds is slow, but full and heady. You mewl, your body shuddering as you come, and Arthur is forced to pull himself from you and wrap his hand around his cock, hissing as he feels his knot expand around nothing.

You struggle to turn yourself over, but finally do so and wrap your hand around his knot, joining his hand around that swollen base of him. He unclenches his jaw and looks down at you as you squeeze at him, moving your fingers from his hard knot up his shaft, and downward again.

“Sweetheart you don’t-” he grits out as you begin to pump him.

“Hush-” you interrupt as you lay your head upon his chest, twisting your hand around him as you stroke up and down. It doesn’t take long for him to find his own end. Arthur growls, thrusting his hips upward as he comes, spurting white out of the head of his cock over both of your hands.

After catching his breath, he kisses the crown of your head, “You okay?”

You look up and smile at him, satiated.

Arthur tosses the last of the firewood he’d been chopping all afternoon in the pile under the overhang, wiping the sweat from his brow as he lays the ax against the outside of the cabin. Grabbing the carbine that he had been cleaning earlier, he shoulders it as he pushes through the front door.

“Darl-”

The bedroom door is closed. Warily, he grabs the door handle and slowly opens it. Arthur stops completely, eyes widening as he scans the room. The whole atmosphere has changed from even this morning, and he slides the carbine from his shoulder and props it against the wall.

It’s dark, the curtains drawn against the midafternoon sun. Before his eyes adjust to the darkness, he can just barely make out your form, leaning against the mantle, your head on your forearms.

He closes the door again, recreating the safety of the nest. He realizes that’s what it is only after shutting the door. A nest.

“Is it-?”

You nod as pain rips through you and you groan, clutching your belly. Arthur is on you in an instant, holding you upright.

Immediately, a fierce agitation in his blood sings. Protect, protect, protect.

You breathe out heavily through your nose as you stand up to full height again. “C’n you make a fire? I need… I need-”

“Anythin’, darlin’. Here, how about you sit down-”

“No, no I need to walk.”

For the next hours, you pace back and forth in the room, wincing every so often, one hand supporting your belly. You’ve kicked your shoes off, and Arthur has as well, sitting in a chair next to the fire, knee bouncing as he watches you intently. The warmth of the room is nearly suffocating to him, but he would never dream of asking to open the window or put out the fire. He simply rolls up the sleeves of his faded blue work shirt.

You suck in a pained breath and a groan echoes through the room as you double over, trying to assuage the overwhelming feeling in your hips.

“I- I think it’s time… h-help me get undressed and onto the bed.”

Arthur nods, stepping closer to you and reaching for the laces of your dress, pulling them apart and helping you step out of the fabric. He continues, solemnly, pushing the straps of your chemise down your shoulders. Gently, your chemise falls away, your bloomers puddle at your feet. Arthur’s blood is on fire as he can see the rivulet of liquid trail down your legs. Your breasts heavy and full, nipples darkened, your belly low. Your body heaving.

He is in awe. Not carnally - though he always wants you - he is in awe of you gritting your teeth against a wave of pain. He is in awe at the movement he sees in your belly. He is in awe of what is about to come, what you are about to do. You groan and reach for him. He immediately places his hands around your waist to steady you. You murmur softly as you lean into his embrace.

“Let’s get you to bed, darlin’ girl.” Arthur gently leads you to the bed and helps you lie down in it. You groan, trying to get comfortable, but it is a lost cause.

The hours continue to roll by, punctuated by your body seizing in agonizing pain every few minutes. You whimper to the ceiling, jumbled syllables of prayers, of curses, of his name.

He wants to growl, he wants to go outside and tear something to pieces. There is an overwhelming need to destroy as he watches you writhe in pain trying to bring his child into the world. He wants to fight another alpha - to dominate - to provide some kind of placation to the inferno in his chest.

Another pained, agonized whimper from you brings him back to reality.

“Si-sit me up,” You grit your teeth as Arthur helps you up, he sits at the head of the bed behind you and you lean back on him for strength. He will give you it all, he would give you anything to take this pain away, if only he could shoulder this task for you. You spread your legs a little further as your head falls back upon his shoulder, a wail crawling out of your throat. Slick trails down your neck from your mating gland as Arthur helps to hold you in a reclined position.

Spiced, warm, rich- with just a hint of the sweetness you usually smell like. It’s different, and instead of driving him wild with the need to rut, it’s making his heart pound with anxiousness and protectiveness. He’s sure if someone were to encroach on the area he would tear them to shreds with his bare hands right now.

“Doin’ so good.” He murmurs against your temple and you moan again in response, your head lolling forward as you hoarsely cry out.

“A-Arthur, its- it’s comin’, the baby-” You pant, and your hands move from clutching the bed sheets hanging between your legs.

“I’m here, I’m here.” Assurance is all he can do at the moment. Blood begins to stain the sheet underneath you as you breathe heavily out your nose. Red smears your thighs as the end draws near. Your back tenses and your fingers clutch at his. Your nails dig into the back of his hand, but his pain be damned. Your head turns into his chest, squeezing your eyes shut, searching for some sort of comfort.

A rumble, deep and strong, claws up from his chest. His free hand spreads out over your belly, pulsing, cramping, hard - he can feel the ordeal your body is going through beneath his fingertips. Moments drag on as you breathe heavily through your nose.

With a gasp, you grab his hand from your belly and draw it down between your legs, against your cunt. Tears stream from your eyes as you wail loudly, the final moments having arrived.

“Y’can do this, sweetheart, you’re doin’ so good-” He murmurs into your temple as you pant, another cry clawing up from your throat.

“Arthur-!”

Taking in a measured breath, you shudder in against him, a hoarse shout filling the room as you deliver the child. In a rush of blood and fluid, Arthur finds himself cupping the baby’s head as it slides into the world. A final scream pierces the room as you push again, the child’s shoulders and the rest of its body leaving you and into the waiting hands of its parents.

You immediately are lucid, and bring the child up to your chest, and the newborn’s piercing cry fills the room. The white-blue cord from the child’s belly pulses against your own, the blood connection between the two of you still strong.

Arthur is struck dumb. He can barely comprehend what has just happened as you coo gently at the wailing babe, sticky and bloody.

“L-lie us down, and get that linen blanket o’er there.” You whisper as you rub the child’s back, and its cries slowly quiet. He is jolted back to reality, and slowly, gently lies you down in the bed, standing up and grabbing the aforementioned blanket and bringing it back to you.

You’re able to wrap the babe loosely upon your chest and belly. You look up at Arthur, but his gaze is trained on the rough swaddled babe. The tufts of dark honeyed hair peaking out from the linen. Those blotchy red cheeks.

“Your son, my alpha.” You whisper.

Arthur gapes up at you, seemingly unable to comprehend your words, until something clicks and he immediately leans over and places his lips upon yours in a desperate, emotional kiss.

“Oh, sweetheart - you - you-”

You chuckle softly.

“You’re perfect, he’s perfect - my darlin’ omega girl.”

The child latches to your breast and begins to slowly suckle. The warm spice of your scent from giving birth recedes, and a sweetness replaces it. It’s new, this scent, the tang of milk and notes of comforting vanilla. Arthur breathes in deeply, resonating deep in his bones that you are no longer just his mate; you are mother to his child.

The boy’s scent - a combination of yours and his, invades his nostrils. Of sweet vanilla and leather. Of that tang of milk. He wants to nuzzle against the child and breathe in deep. The only scent he wants to be bathed in forevermore.

In those quiet moments after the ordeal of birth, you open the swaddled linen to give him access to cut the cord between you and the child, a quick flick of his hunting knife above the child’s abdomen. He holds you, kissing your temple and murmuring sweet nothings as you clutch at the child, delivering the afterbirth with a soft, stifled whine of pain.

Things start to slow. He’s got a new purpose now. As you drift to sleep, cleaned and in a new chemise, upon fresh sheets, his gaze moves to the basket next to the bed, where in a fresh swaddle of linen, his son also sleeps.

It's murderous, the things he would do to protect the two of you. This nest, the newborn child, and you recovering from birth. His blood sings- not in the need to fuck, but in the solemn duty he now has - as alpha, as husband, as father. It's fierce, the protectiveness he now feels. Like a snarling wolf defending territory. Alpha, protector. Head of the family.

He sits down in the chair opposite the bed, carbine in reach, beginning his watch. The watch that would consume him for the rest of his life.

But he’s content with this new calling.

#arthur morgan smut #twolafic #omegaverse #abo dynamics #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader

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rose-tea-and-strawberries · 9 months ago

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Celebrating Ramadan With Ace and Deuce

Platonic Ace x muslim!fem!reader x Deuce

Masterlist

First of all these boys would be so accommodating with you if you’re a muslim

They’d try to learn as much as they could about your religion either from you or asking a few Scarabian students.

They’d even ask the Scarabian students for things like lunar calendars or tasbihs or travelling prayer mats in case you need one

They do their best to make sure you’re comfortable if you’re the type that has issues being too close with the opposite gender, always making sure to keep a respectable distance between you and ensuring that the rest of the student body do the same

If you want to pray, they’d just wordlessly use their bags as your sutrah and basically be your bodyguards until you’re done

Also, for the hijabi girlies, they’d be so respectful. If your hair starts to show they’d avert their eyes quicker than you could blink and inform you. If anyone bothers you or looks at you in a way that you’re not comfortable with, they’d be decked onto the floor in a flash.

You bet they would have a few spare hijab pins or carry an extra shawl in case of emergencies

Anyway, back to Ramadan

So when you tell them about fasting, they’d first get all shocked. Poor Deuce is besides himself thinking that you’ll be starving yourself for a whole month before you elaborate on how it’s just from sunrise to sunset and then explain the spiritual significance for it.

Not going to lie, these guys are so the type to be like “you can’t even drink water?? 🙃”

They’re both super proud of you and are just in constant awe of your strength

I feel like they’d want to do it with you as a show of unity, and to help you with your homesickness, but since they’re both athletes (especially with Deuce being in such a high stamina/adrenaline sport like Track and Field), you suggest that they start with half fasts to ease themselves into it

(also props to everyone that still works out during fasting hours - you’re all incredible and absolute superheroes. My mum goes to the gym practically every morning and I’m still amazed every time.)

Also, when you’re doing your make up fasts to compensate for the ones you missed due to mother nature, you bet they’ll be right by your side fasting with you

I bet Deuce would feel genuinely offended if someone ate in front of you. Like he’d just stare at someone as if they’re smuggling contraband instead of just munching on their sandwich.

They make sure to do as much as you can so you could rest as much as possible. They set the table for iftar and suhoor (they even get up before you and wake you up), and do the cleaning up whilst you go to pray

Food usually comes from Sam’s shop or Trey (I don’t remember how they were during the culinary crucible but I really wouldn’t want those two in my kitchen before iftar whilst I’m fasting)

They’re always carrying your bag/things and practically never leave your side. Ramshackle is practically their second home at this point.

They love to learn more about your practices, especially traditions that you would do back home and you feel so loved to share that with them. You even teach them arabic (which ends with you getting a stern talking to from Jamil when Ace practices your lessons during basketball club)

Having a henna night with them would be so fun, just listening to nasheeds as you apply henna to both yourself and your best friends (who would take it so seriously and make such a noticeable effort to stay completely still until it dries and it’s both endearing and hilarious)

Okay but one time my sister fell asleep on her hand with henna on it and she woke up the next morning with a faded orange matching pattern on her cheek and that totally happens to Ace

They would totally (with Scarabia’s help) decorate Ramshackle with lights and lanterns to make it all festive

Just the two of them acting as your family in this strange new world 💛

#muslim reader #twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #deuce spade x reader #ace trappola x reader #ace x reader x deuce #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanons #fem reader

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rems-writing · 6 months ago

Text

Her savior

Pairing: dilf!Mingi x widow afab!reader

Summary: I lowkey want to make these two oneshots connected to each other so there will be slight mention of dilf!Yunho and his s/o. This will pick up after Mingi and Wooyoung left his cousin in front of Yunho's doorstep to babysit his three daughters.

Warning(s): Hurt with comfort, mentions of bullying (i.e. harsh words, etc.), Mingi is lowkey scary sexy when angry, non-Ateez character mentioned, yelling and swearing, mentions of death and murder, slight size kink, face riding, pussy slapping, pussydrunk!Mingi, boob play, backshots, bigdick!Mingi, unprotected sex (don't do this!), squirting

Genre: Cracked beginning, angst (for the main part), a bit of fluff, smut

Nets: @mirohs-aurora-society

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Thank you to @yourfatherlucifer and @holybibly for helping me figure out what kind of dad Mingi is lol

As Mingi and Wooyoung ran down the street cackling their asses off at Mingi's poor cousin being left on Yunho's doorstep, they slowed down to catch their breath.

"He's going to kill you, Min! And maybe me as well."

"Maybe? You smacked his ass while he was hoisted over my shoulder and laughed at his misery as he tried to escape my grasp!"

Wooyoung was going to retort when the two of them heard bickering from across the street they were running in. Normally, if they saw two women bickering, it was most likely just loud gossip. That's how the neighborhood was. However, that wasn't the case. Mingi looked closely and listened intently to what those two women were talking about. The more he listened, the more his anger grew.

Those two women weren't bickering.

It was only one woman bullying another woman who was trying so hard to ward off the first woman.

Mingi hated gossip, but he hated bullying even more. Having been bullied back in high school, he would not stand idly by and let this fester any further. He marched over to the two women and broke up the fight between them.

"What is going on over here?"

The woman that was starting the fight gasped dramatically and tried to fall into Mingi's arms but he pushed her back upright and kept the scowl on his face.

"Oh, Mr. Song! You have to help me! This hag over here bumped into me and made me drop all my groceries! I think she should compensate me by buying all my groceries for an entire week! That's only fair. Right?"

Her shrill voice annoyed him and the taller man turned to the other woman.

His scowl softened a bit when he saw who the victim was.

It was the widow.

He's heard about her but to see her in person...

Yeah he was subconsciously right to not believe the rumors.

The woman was wearing all black with a thin black shawl covering her face so he wouldn't see her tears. He placed a hand on her shoulder and turned her around.

Imagine the shock on his face when he saw how young this widow looked.

He wasn't able to memorize the beauty on the widow's face since the tears were coming down like a waterfall. Mingi pulled out his handkerchief and dabbed her face with it lightly. She sniffled and gave a silent 'thank you' to him, to which he nodded.

"I'm not accusing you of anything. I just want to know the facts. Did you bump into woman and made her drop her groceries?"

The widow instantly shook her head.

"I was minding my own business when I accidentally bumped into her. She was the one that dropped them and pinned the blame on me when I was simply trying to navigate my way through the neighborhood after coming home from a walk. She then started screaming her head off and started nagging me about how I'm horrible. All that I could forgive. But then..."

She breathed in deeply.

"She had the nerve to mention how my husband is dead because of me."

Mingi's blood boiled and Wooyoung saw this. He gently guided the widow back towards his direction. The widow was confused at first. Then she saw Mingi's anger and decided to hide in Wooyoung's shoulder. She never liked confrontation but this time, she had enough of people accusing her of her husband's death so she let the tall man chew that woman out.

"Here."

He threw a wad of bills at the first woman's face, to which she was either shocked or offended by this action. She tried to speak but Mingi held a finger up and she shut her mouth.

"Unless it truly was on purpose, I suggest you apologize to her. She was minding her own business and she was even prepared to apologize for bumping into you when you just had to make a big deal out of it! I mean come on! It's 2024 for fucks sake! Why are we putting down women still?!"

"But Mingi -"

"You will address me by Mr. Song! And you will not interrupt me!"

The woman nodded and her face became red out of embarrassment. He continued to speak.

"You know... I've seen you around. You do nothing but gossip around and show off your miserable trophy husband. I think you're on husband number three. Am I correct?"

Wooyoung had to stifle a snicker while the woman tried to protest, only for Mingi to shut her up again.

"Yeah... one of my employees mentioned that you divorced him because he 'wasn't making enough money' persay."

"But he truly wasn't-"

"I SAID DON'T INTERRUPT ME!"

The woman clamped her mouth shut, fear evident on her face as Mingi kept talking growling angrily.

"Just because baby daddy number three is making more dough than your last husband doesn't mean that you can flaunt your shit and then belittle other women. How would you like it if you were in her position?!"

"Mr. Song, here's the thing! There's a reason why the entire neighborhood doesn't like her!"

"Oh I can't wait to hear this!" Mingi barked out a sarcastic laugh while Wooyoung remained stoic, occasionally comforting the widow in his arms.

"Well she... she killed her husband! She's crazy and -"

"Stop talking."

"But Mr. Song-"

"I SAID STOP TALKING!"

"But Mr. Song! You have to understand-"

"DO YOU WANT ME TO FIRE YOUR THIRD HUSBAND FROM MY COMPANY?! BECAUSE I WILL FUCKING DO IT!"

The woman shut up and looked down in shame. Mingi forced her head up so she could look at the anger in his eyes.

"You do not know the full story. And even if you do, just the mere fact that you continue to degrade her regardless of the truth makes me sick. You make me sick."

He clenched his fist and sighed deeply.

"And people think I'm the monster. Nah. I just hate bullies. In fact, I'm staring at the monster right here."

The woman's face paled and she had the audacity to beg for forgiveness and for him not to fire her husband, to which he laughed at.

"Why are you asking me for forgiveness? You should ask her."

The woman looked at the widow wearily and Mingi sighed.

"Forget it. You're so adamant on making her miserable. Fine. I'm firing your husband and I'm telling the landlord to raise rent on that little condo you have nicely decorated."

"Wait! Mr. Song, have mercy-"

"Girl, just go! You keep yakking and yakking! Don't make things worse for yourself." Wooyoung spoke up this time and the woman hung her head in shame before taking the bill wad and entering her car so she can rebuy the groceries she dropped. Mingi huffed out a sigh of relief and walked over to the widow in Wooyoung's arms.

"Hey. It's ok. I'm sorry if my anger got the best of me. I just can't stand it when people are bullied for no reason whatsoever. I hope you can forgive me."

The stark contrast between the softness of the taller man's voice and the sheer anger of his aura earlier shocked you to say the least. Even though you were still shaken up, you were happy that someone stood up for you. You looked up from Wooyoung's shoulder with big glossy eyes. Mingi fought the urge to grab your face and hold you close to him. In the end, he resisted. Although, his heart swelled with adoration and care when he heard your sniffles and your shy voice.

"Thank you, Mr. Song. No one has stood up for me like that before. I usually have to fend for myself but today was a really bad day for me so I couldn't. I'm sorry to have disturbed your peace with Mr. Jung."

Mingi shushed you and smiled kindly. You found it endearing how his smile reached all the way to his eyes so his eyes formed crescents.

"No need to apologize, love. And definitely no need to thank me. I'm just doing what a good Samaritan would do. Oh and you can call me Mingi."

"And you can call me Wooyoung."

You looked back and forth between the two men and nodded shyly. Mingi then slung an arm around you and held you close to him. The sheer size difference between your bodies was overwhelming. Through your shawl, your breath was taken away by how large this man was.

Broad shoulders, tiny waist, huge muscles with an even bigger chest, long legs, chiseled jaw, and huge hands with long fingers adorned by many rings. His black hair was swept back and his body was covered from head to toe by a suit that clung to his figure deliciously. You stopped your ogling and looked away shyly.

"My goodness! You must have work today! I'm so sorry for keeping you here."

Mingi looked down at his outfit and chuckled sheepishly.

"You're right. I should get going. However, I technically have the right to be late since I'm the CEO of my company. You heard me mention something about firing someone so hopefully, that gave it away."

You giggled and nodded shyly. Mingi wanted to hear you giggle again so he cracked bad jokes until the three of you approached your home.

"Um... sorry if it looks like death. I do keep the inside pretty though! It's usually my husband that tends to the outside. Although, I tried to do it myself... it's not as good."

"It looks good either way. If you want, Wooyoung can help with the outside."

"I can?"

Mingi gave Wooyoung a look and the younger of the two got the message before smiling kindly.

"I totally can! Just tell me what I need to do."

The smile under your shawl was bright and Mingi almost folded.

If only he was courageous enough to remove that shawl from your face so he can bask in your beauty. Alas, you two only met so he held back out of respect for you.

"Thanks, guys. It honestly means a lot to me knowing that there are still kind people out there who are willing to help a lonely widow such as I."

Mingi nodded and stuck out his hand for you to shake. You took it and shook it, ignoring the fact that your hand was swallowed by his. As he pulled away, you grew sad at the loss of warmth but chose to hide it.

"Well, I'll leave you guys to it. I have to get to work. I'll see you guys around!"

"Wait! Mingi! Before you go..."

Mingi looked at you curiously.

"My name is Doh Y/N. It's nice to meet you."

Mingi smiled and nodded in acknowledgement as an indication that he will indeed remember your name. As he left your home, his thoughts were nothing except you. When he entered his office, he couldn't concentrate on his work.

All he could do was think about you.

---------------------------------------------------

It had been a few months since your first encounters with each other. You two slowly became friends as you got to know each other a bit more. Mingi learned that Kyungsoo, your dead husband, was murdered by someone else as he was coming home from work one night.

The man that killed Kyungsoo also killed Mingi's own wife.

In the end, the two were nothing more than victims of the Namhae Strongman.

The neighborhood knew of the death of Mingi's wife and the death of Kyungsoo, yet for some odd reason, people gave the two of you different treatments. Mingi received sympathy while you received accusations.

Oh how life can be so bitter.

However, you fought through it and you leaned on Mingi and Wooyoung for support. Mainly Mingi.

It was the weekend and Wooyoung was playing with Song Minhee, the only daughter of Mingi. While the two were running around, the two of you were sitting on the couch in a comfortable silence. Your head was on his shoulder while his arm was secured around your waist. You were mindlessly playing with the rings on his fingers when you looked up at him.

"Any updates from your little brother?"

Mingi's brother was the cop in charge of helping the detectives investigate the string of deaths that the Namhae Strongman left behind, including Mingi's wife and Kyungsoo. Mingi shook his head.

"Sadly, no. The killer is apparently good at covering his tracks, which is ironic since he's depicted as a huge man with easily recognizable arms."

You hummed in acknowledgement to his response. You were disappointed yet not surprised.

"I hope they catch him soon."

"I hope so too."

Another silence filled the air once again but it was only temporary before Mingi spoke up this time.

"Can I tell you something, Y/N?"

You lifted your head and nodded. Mingi sighed quietly before speaking.

"It's been a few months since I met you. And it's definitely been a few months since I stood up for you that one time. I've never felt closer to anyone other than my wife. However, the more I'm around you, the more I realize that you and I have a bond that no one can compare to or break. Sure, our union exists due to our spouses being dead, but I feel like it's beyond that. I feel like I've known you my entire life and... well... is it wrong of me to say that I fell in love with you?"

You shook your head.

"I don't know... maybe I'm just talking out of my ass. I don't want you to think that I'm using you to fill the void my wife left when she died. However, knowing her, she'd want me to move on. And believe me. I've tried. I gave up at some point but then you came along. I feel like, in a way, she sent you to me. You're like a guardian angel to me."

"And you're definitely my savior."

Mingi's eyes widened upon hearing your revelation.

"Ever since Kyungsoo's death, I've felt lost. And alone. No one stood by my side and everyone tried to blame me for his death. How stupid are they to think that?! I know I'm not a good wife but still... it hurts so much knowing people still blame me for his death! I... I just-"

Mingi shushed you by bringing you into a much-needed hug and reassuring you that you aren't a terrible wife and that it wasn't your fault that Kyungsoo died. The Namhae Strongman simply just made everyone's lives miserable due to his murderous actions. As he held you close, he couldn't help but to kiss the top of your head and tighten his hold on you.

"Listen. The authorities will make sure that this killer is behind bars so we will finally get justice and closure. My brother is good at his job. The killer will be brought to justice. I can guarantee that."

His firm words of reassurance brought you comfort in this hard time and you held onto him like he was your lifeline. If you let go, he would disappear from your grasp.

After a few minutes have passed, the two of you pulled away but not entirely. You stared into each other's eyes, and before you could speak, Mingi removed the shawl covering your face and slowly leaned in. You found yourself leaning in as well but before your lips met, Mingi whispered something.

"Tell if you want to stop and I will. But just to let you know, I've been dreaming about you and I've been itching to remove that shawl from your face so I could bask in your beauty. However, if you think this is too fast, I will back up and we can remain friends."

"No no. It's ok, Mingi. Like you, I feel the same way. I'm not trying to use you to fill the void that Kyungsoo left behind but knowing him, he'd want me to move on. As I said. You're my savior."

"Well then... now that it's established, may I kiss you?"

"Yes. You may."

Mingi captured your lips in a desperate yet passionate kiss. He held your waist and pulled you close to him while you removed the glasses he was wearing from his face and had your hands all over him. One hand was in his messy black hair and tugging on the strands while the other hand fisted the white silk button up he was wearing.

Before it could go any further, Mingi pulled away. You both were breathing heavily, and both of your lips were swollen. Mingi caressed your cheek and you blushed from the contact, still feeling flustered about this entire situation.

"Y/N. I know we just confessed to each other and all that, but if we are to start something, let's take it slow. We're both still hurting and I don't want us to use each other as a rebound."

You nodded in agreement and kissed his cheek.

"Ok. I can do that."

Mingi smiled and put on his glasses before intertwining your hand with his.

---------------------------------------------------

It had been a while since the two of you had confessed to each other and shared a loving kiss yet the two of you were going strong. Mingi was taking it slow and respecting your boundaries, to which you loved.

However, he would also take things to the next level, to which you didn't mind.

From wild makeout sessions in almost every corner of the house that you two share (he asked you to move in with him since Minhee took a liking to you) to public displays from affection that ranged from holding hands to him smacking your ass and grabbing it so people know that you two were serious.

All of that left you riled up and wanting more. You just didn't know if he would feel the same way.

On top of that, you made some new friends along the way. You met Mingi's best friend Yunho, Wooyoung's other best friend named Yeosang, who worked as a barista, and Mingi's cousin, who was Yunho's boyfriend.

You also met Yunho's three daughters. Yumi, Yunju, and Chanmi. Apparently, they were sent to Mingi's place to spend the night one time since Yunho wanted to be alone with his boytoy. You didn't mind it since you loved seeing little Minhee interact with the Jeong sisters.

Seeing that interaction alone made you realize that you wanted something more with Mingi.

Perhaps you were ready to take your relationship to that next level.

Hence, the sit-down talk with Mingi about how you felt. To your surprise, Mingi felt the same way. He just wasn't sure if you'd be up for it. Seeing as how you two are on the same page, you took a page out of Yunho's book and asked Yunho if he could let Minhee spend the night at his place.

With a teasing and knowing look, Yunho happily allowed Minhee to spend the night at his place so she could play more with the Jeong girls.

It was now nighttime and the two of you were holed up in Mingi's room, making out fiercely and desperately. The riled up sexual tension spilled over and it definitely showed. With the way you were grinding desperately against him and the deep groans he would let out, it's safe to say that the both of you needed each other.

Craved each other's touch.

As you shoved each other's clothes off of your bodies, Mingi carried you in his arms and readjusted your positions so you were sitting on top of his bare chest.

"Tell me something, babe. Have you ever ridden someone's face before?"

His deep voice caused shivers to go down your spine and you shook your head. He chuckled deeply before tapping your hip, indicating that you should move towards his face so you could sit on it. As you lowered yourself onto his face, you stopped momentarily and Mingi sighed deeply before grabbing your hips and lowering yourself even more.

"When I say sit on face, I mean fucking sit on it. Like a fucking chair."

His deep voice rumbled throughout the room before it was muffled by your wet pussy. You didn't get a chance to speak as a loud moan escaped your mouth due to feeling Mingi's tongue licking a stripe up your clit before licking your folds and shoving his tongue straight into your wet hole.

Your head was thrown back and you grabbed onto his hair for support as you felt your hips move back and forth. His hands were on your ass, keeping you in place and occasionally smacking it.

"W-Wait! Mingi! Let me pleasure you as well-"

A loud squeak was heard from you when you felt one of his hands slap your pussy. His fingers directly hit your clit and it sent new waves of pleasure throughout your body.

"No. Just keep riding my face, baby. God your pussy is a fever dream. I want more."

As he dove back in, your moans increased and your hips moved back and forth faster than before. Mingi slapped your pussy a few more times before his hands reached up to cup your boobs. He massaged them with his huge hands, rolling your nipples in between two fingers and pulling on them.

"Fuck, Mingi! I'm gonna cu-"

He interrupted you by lifting you off his face and flipping you onto your stomach so your ass was in the air. He smacked both cheeks a few times before grabbing his huge cock and pumping it a few times. The tip touched your folds lightly and you let out a mewl due to the touch.

"Please, Mingi... please!"

"Baby girl, I got you."

He entered you slowly and groaned at the way your tight walls were stretching around his cock.

"Fuck, baby. You're so fucking tight. Fuck!"

As he bottomed out, he reached down and grabbed you by the hair before yanking you by it so he can see you.

He almost came just from looking at your fucked out face.

He placed a messy kiss on your lips before shoving you back down into the mattress and mapping out the expanse of your back with his palm.

"I'm going to move now."

You expected him to start slow so you could get adjusted to his size.

Imagine the look on your face when you felt his thrusts go at a medium pace.

He truly didn't want to waste time.

As he held your hips and hit it from the back, both of you groaned in unison. Your walls hugged his cock deliciously and he kept up the pace. When you asked to go harder, he didn't deny it. His thrusts became harder and harder with each passing minute. Your moans were so loud that you were sure you would get a noise complaint.

Good thing the walls are thick.

Mingi hit a particular spot that made you arch your back and he decided to make it better by reaching his hand down so his fingers could rub your clit at a rapid pace. The contact made you squeal and he chuckled darkly before leaning down to whisper dirty words in your ear.

"You like that? You like the way I'm touching you? Yeah I know you do, pretty baby. Fuck you're squeezing me so much. I love it. God I love you so fucking much!"

"I LOVE YOU TOO, MINGI! FUCK! I'M CUMMING! I'M CUMMING!"

"Cum all over this cock. Squirt all over it. I want to feel you come undone like this. Where do you want me? Hmm?"

"INSIDE! CUM INSIDE!"

"You want me inside? You want me to fill you up with my cum? Hmm?"

"PLEASE! FILL ME! FILL ME!"

"Fuck! With the way you beg, I might just do it. Fuck! Here it comes. Take my load."

With one final thrust, he emptied all of his seed into you while you squirted all over his cock. The sensation got him moaning like a pornstar as he still inside you. Once he felt that everything was drained from his balls, he pulled out slowly and groaned at the way his semen was dripping out from your quivering hole. He plunged two fingers inside you and you moaned weakly.

"Mingi, too much... I can't-"

"I know, baby. I just want my cum to stay inside you."

After shoving his cum back into you, he pulled his fingers out and laid down next to you. He pulled you close to him as you two got under the covers. The two of you started into each other's eyes.

Eyes filled with love.

"My guardian angel."

"My savior."

Eventually, the two of you fell asleep in each other's arms, knowing that you would keep each other warm and safe.

You found your peace within him.

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez smut #mirohsaurorasociety

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tildeathiwillwrite · 2 months ago

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Oop This Just Became a Historical Drama

Records of the Torrent Watchers: The Blood Moon Specter, Part 3

Whumptober Day 15 CHILDHOOD TRAUMA | Painful Hug | Moment of Clarity | "I did good, right?"

Whumptober Prompts List | Masterpost

Tales from Valaria Masterpost

<- Previous | Next ->

Fandom: Original Work

Words: 1300

Tag List: @fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds @pigeonwhumps @mr-orion @scaewolf

@the-ellia-west

CW: panic attack, PTSD, flashback, kidnapping mention, death mention, torture mention, deception

----------

Reese was thirteen years old again.

Trapped in that same damn cell, curled up in that same damn corner, shivering in that same damn cold. The skin at the crook of her elbow was bruised and throbbing. Warm tears ran down her face as she prayed to wake, to escape this nightmare.

That same damn feeling of helplessness, of knowing that there was no escape.

“Hey,” a voice cut through the haze of terror, “hey, look at me.”

Air displaced nearby, and she whimpered, curling up into an even tighter ball. But nobody touched her.

“Dammit,” the voice muttered, “this is more serious than I thought. I’m not going to hurt you.”

She shook her head. “That’s what he said last time,” she mumbled, “he lied.”

“I’m not him. And I don’t lie.”

Confusion mixed in with the fear, dulling it. Reese raised her head and opened her eyes. As she blinked away the tears, reality set in. She felt the soft carpet underneath her body, registered the wood paneling of the room, which was very much not the glass cell. She was curled up in the corner of a small, windowless study. The only door was on the other side of the room, next to a simple wooden desk with a cushy chair pulled out in front of it. Bookcases lined the walls, shelves filled with what had to be hundreds of books.

The room was occupied by one other person, a young woman who she did not recognize. She had light skin and black hair cut short, and she wore a dark green dress, a gray shawl covering her shoulders. The woman knelt on the ground just out of reach. Her expression was one of concern, but it softened when Reese focused on her.

“Where am I?” Reese asked quietly, eyes darting around the room. The only exit was the door next to the desk at the far end of the room.

“You’re in my study on my family’s estate,” the woman answered gently, “My name’s Nari. What’s your name?”

Reese narrowed her eyes at Nari. “How did I get here?”

“You tell me. You were the one who ran in here.”

Reese slowly pushed herself into a sitting position, trying to sort through the last few hours. They were covered in a fog of panic and fear. She remembered… running. Running through hallways that reminded her of the manor where she had been taken when she was kidnapped. Memories from five years ago started to blend together after that.

And before? “We were in the forest…” she said quietly, “the part of the Fells close to the River Torrent. We followed a trail north-west… and then we were ambushed.” Her hand went to her knife, only to find the sheath empty.

She sucked in a quick breath and made to rise to her feet, but Nari sprang up first and pinned her to the wall, hand clamped over her mouth.

“Hush!” The woman hissed, glancing over to the door. “You got away?”

Reese stared at her, eyes wide, her fingers closing into fists.

“If you want to live, do exactly as I say, okay?”

Reese’s eyes flicked towards the door. Was that shouting somewhere outside? She hesitated for the briefest moment before nodding.

Nari’s expression hardened. “Good. Under the desk. Now.”

She released Reese, who obeyed, crossing the room in three steps and curling up under the desk. Nari pushed the chair in front of her and sat down, smoothing her dress neatly over her knees.

“What’s going on?” Reese hissed, heart pounding in her ears.

“I’ll explain later,” Nari whispered as footsteps from at least a dozen feet pounded outside in the hallway. “Be quiet or they’ll—”

A sharp knock sounded on the door. Nari flinched, but when she spoke, her voice was steady. “Come in!”

The door opened. “Elias, what’s going on?” Nari asked, pushing back the chair as if to rise to her feet. Reese’s heart skipped a beat. Was she going to—?

“Sorry to bother you, Lady Nari,” a male voice said, “but some intruders have just broken into the manor. One of them may be still inside.”

People in hoods and coats not unlike Reese’s own jacket. Nearly invisible in the failing light of the evening. At least a dozen.

Nari gasped. “Oh! Oh my! Thank you for telling me. Does Ry know?”

Luc had dispatched three before being disarmed. Reese managed one before her knife was knocked out of her hand. Damian disarmed one and stabbed a second, but one of the attackers got within his reach and punched him in the gut, forcing him to drop his sword. They couldn’t have been private security, they weren’t close enough to the manor house that the hooded attackers brought them to.

“Lord Rycellus has already been made aware of the situation. I will be sure to inform you when the last intruder has been apprehended.”

Reese remembered seeing the manor marked on one of Luc’s maps. It was close to the river town where the latest body was found. They were ushered in through a side door, and she was separated from the others.

“Thank you so much, Elias.”

Reese kicked the one who was holding her in a sensitive place and bolted through the manor.

“Of course, my lady.”

Memories blended together. A closed door. The study.

The door closed. Nari waited as the footsteps receded, as the muffled orders from Elias echoed down the hallway grew softer until there was only silence outside the room. She quickly rose and pulled the chair away, allowing Reese to emerge from beneath the desk.

“Are you all right?” Nari asked softly. “Please, if you need to sit down.”

Reese collapsed into the chair, running her hands over her face. “I abandoned them,” she whispered.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what led you to be here. Did you break in? Or where you brought here?”

Reese eyed her in suspicion. “Why are you protecting me?”

“Because my brother thinks he can keep what he’s doing a secret. Please, if you were kidnapped and brought here, you need to tell me.”

Reese exhaled slowly. “My name is Reese. I was with Luc Epsilona, the resident Watcher of the River Torrent. We were investigating a murder which had a connection to similar deaths, when….” She explained everything she remembered but left out the part about why she had been panicking. That would lead to too many questions.

Nari frowned at the floor when she finished, processing her words. “I knew this day would come,” she finally said. “Dammit, I wish I had an explanation for you, but I barely know more than you do.”

She began to pace. “I need to get you out of here, and your friends. Before Ry does whatever he’s been doing to the others.”

Reese watched her carefully. “How do you know what he’s doing? How do you know he’s behind the murders?”

Nari froze, staring at nothing. “I… I hear the screams,” she whispered, “of the people underground… I don’t know if he does it himself, but he’s the one who let it happen. He’s the one who hired those people. And he goes to such lengths to ensure I never find out. But I know.” Tears began to trickle down her face. “I know… and yet I do nothing. I’m as bad as he is.”

Celestials… she’s terrified.

Reese rose to her feet. “Nari, I know you’re scared. But I’m apprenticed to a Watcher, I know what I’m doing. We need to find out why this is happening. What can you tell me about the people he hired?”

Nari breathed deeply, composing herself. When she looked back at Reese, her face was the same hardened expression as when she had ordered Reese to hide. “It’s not much, but here’s what I know….”

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broiderie · 10 months ago

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Lost Princessa: Meet the Reaper 24

It's a short one. Like... I don't think I've ever posted a chapter this short. However, I'm just getting back in the saddle so you'll have to forgive me. I do have plenty more written. We're not done with Megan and Hank. It's about to get interesting.

Please don't copy my shit. This is the only place it's published. Don't translate it. Don't steal it. Don't copy it. I'm just getting it back. Don't piss me off now.

Warnings: Fluff. I don't even think I cuss in this part. It's just a bit of filler.

A short while later, Taza chuckled as he realized that it would be a tight fit for all of them in the Bronco. It was an older model and could only comfortably fit five. There were seven of them.

Bishop sighed looking at the vehicle as he came to the same conclusion. “Shit.” He finished his cigarette in frustration.

Chibs laughed. “Well… tha’ lass is tiny, but tha’ rest of us ain’t.”

Angel shrugged. “I’ll sit in the back with the pooch. Put Shorty on someone’s lap though. With a seatbelt.”

Marcus nodded. “It’s fine Primo. It’s not a long ride.”

They piled in with Bishop driving and Marcus in the front. Taza took the middle seat in the back with Chibs and Hank against the doors. Megan sat in Hank’s lap and snuggled down so Taza could fasten the seat belt for them with a giggle.

“Comfy, Chica?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Mmmhmm.” She tucked her feet in between Taza and Hank’s legs and her head under Hank’s chin. Hank just grinned and pressed a kiss to her hair since Bishop had put her hat on the dash for her.

A short ride later, Bishop parked the truck on a side street near the center of the city of Santa Madre. “We’ll walk from here. Where are we meeting them in the market?” he asked Angel.

Angel checked the burner phone from his kutte pocket. “They’ll meet us near the church. We’re a little early though.”

“That’s alright. We can take Poquito shopping…” Marcus said grinning as Megan stuck her tongue out at him.

They wandered to the open square where an open air market was held continually. At the far end of the square a beautiful church stood. Megan could see the steeple from where they were. As they entered the square, the buildings blocked the warm sun causing the temperature to drop several degrees. Megan cuddled close to Hank’s side as he automatically wrapped an arm around her back to warm her. Megan hooked Rex’s leash to her belt loop to free up her hand and took a deep breath as they entered the crowd.

They browsed several stalls. Megan enjoyed looking through the different vendors. She grinned as she found small hand carved figures at one of them. A horse made of light wood caught her eye and she couldn’t help but show it to Taza. “Papa, look. It’s Rocket.”

Taza grinned at the flagged tail and flowing mane on the figure which looked to be in full gallop. “It does look like him.” He waved down the vendor and in quick Spanish bought the little horse. “There, Chica. Now you can take Rocket home with us.”

Hank chuckled as Megan tucked the little figure into her hoody pocket. She looked up at him with a smile. “What?”

“Nothing, mi reina. Just enjoying the market.” Hank pressed a kiss to the top of her hat and guided her to the next stall.

Bishop laughed and sidled up beside Taza to ask under his breath “So does she realize how much that thing cost?”

Taza shushed him. “Don’t even say it. She doesn’t know conversion rates and I’m enjoying it for a bit.”

Marcus laughed aloud at that. “If Poquito enjoys it - who cares?” He pointed to a stall further down the row. “Think she’d like another cowboy hat?”

Eventually all the men carried bags of things that they’d managed to point out to Megan. Even Chibs had a bag with a pin in the shape of a Celtic knot for her kutte and another to fasten shawls or rebozos with.

Megan was staying close to Hank in the crowd and kept Rex’s leash short. She couldn’t help but notice - their group seemed to be drawing a lot of attention. That wasn’t exactly the best thing for a covert meeting with what actually qualified as international terrorists. Four men and a woman that she didn’t recognize kept popping up at stalls nearby. Something about them just bugged her.

Angel’s pocket beeped as Hank was buying Megan a bag of candy. “They’re here and ready to meet,” he said quietly to Marcus and Bishop.

Bishop nodded. “We’ll head that way then.” He flagged Hank down as the big Mayan handed over the cash for Megan’s treat.

As a group, they all headed for the church. Megan noticed that the woman had moved to the balcony of a nearby house and the men kept getting closer as they started for the church. She didn’t like it. Adelita and another man waited on a side street as they got close.

“Luisa!” Megan said, smiling. “Imagine seeing you here. Papa and the tíos wanted to show me the market!” She stepped closer as if she and Adelita were just friends who happened to meet in town. “We had visitors from our overseas friends so they came along for the ride.”

Adelita paused, but then went along with Megan’s act. “Ah… Hola Megan. The market is always a great place to bring visitors.”

Hank glanced around to see several men who were paying too much attention to their meeting. He nodded at Taza to draw his attention to them as well. Somehow - despite not having the training - Megan had picked up that they had a tail before any of the men. Instead of drawing undue attention to it, she’d taken matters into her own hands. She smiled and popped up on tiptoe to kiss Hank’s cheek and whispered “They’ve been there this whole time, but close for about fifteen minutes.” He smiled a bit and nodded.

“Papa,” Megan smiled at him. “Can Luisa show me that carving we were talking about? The one in the church? It won’t take long…”

“Of course, Chica. Your tíos and I can wait. We’ll head home when you’re done-” Taza said as he subtly moved to put himself between Megan and the tails.

Angel looked confused, but kept his mouth shut, and the others trusted that Megan had a reason for suddenly acting like she and Adelita were childhood friends.

She handed Hank Rex’s leash reluctantly, but moved to link her good arm through Adelita’s and move towards the door of the church chattering away. To anyone nearby it looked like two friends wandering off for a moment. Adelita played along.

Megan leaned close. “Are they L.O.?” she asked quietly, keeping a smile plastered on her face.

Luisa shook her head. “No. Not mine. We thought they were yours.” She made a show of smiling as they walked up the church steps.

“Just the seven of us. Did you recognize any of them? Maybe as Galindo’s?” Megan asked. They paused for Luisa to cross herself like a good Catholic girl as they entered the sanctuary.

“Not any that I have seen.”

Megan nodded and followed Luisa to an alcove off the sanctuary where they could see everyone coming or going. “Then we have to assume…”

“That they’re unfriendly,” Luisa agreed.

Megan nodded. “So - neither group knows who they really are. Do you want to continue with the meet, or should we try again later?”

“We should wait for the official meeting,” Luisa said quietly.

Megan nodded. “Agreed. We do, however, have our Irish connection in town. Is there any information that I can give him to help settle their minds? Even the name of the port they’d be shipping to?”

Luisa turned to face Megan and watched her face for a moment, then she nodded. “Ensenada is the port. We’ll work the rest out when we can. Your liaison - do you trust him?”

Megan snorted a bit. “Angel? For the most part. As long as he’s not too pissed off and not making any life changing decisions that affect me…”

Adelita nodded. “Good. I’ll set a meet with him to pass on more information.” She smiled. “You tend to draw attention with your escorts.”

That made Megan smile. “We are a bit conspicuous. We’ll send Angel to the meets for now with our prospect - his brother. EZ has a cooler head for strategy and a trained memory.”

“Good.” Adelita smiled. “We should get back. Only so much excuse we can use. When we part as friends, my man and I will lose any tail. We’ll contact you within twenty-four hours.”

Megan nodded. “Agreed.”

Adelita squeezed Megan’s good hand gently. “Be careful. Don’t push yourself too much.”

“You be careful too.”

The two women strolled out, just as they’d strolled in to the church and made a show of parting outside like best friends.

Megan struggled to keep up the act a bit once they were back with the men. She took a minute to fuss with Rex’s ears to compose herself. Cloak and dagger didn’t come easily to her.

“You good, Princessa?” Angel asked.

Megan smiled her Southern Belle smile. “All good, Angel. Just getting tired.”

“Well Poquito - let’s get you home then,” Bishop said. “You’ve had a long day.”

Once they were all piled back into the Bronco, Megan breathed a sigh of relief.

“Alrigh’ now. Wha’ the fuck jus’ ‘appened?” Chibs asked.

Hank rubbed a hand down Megan’s spine and relieved the weight of her sling a bit. “Megan clocked that we were being followed to the meet point.”

Chibs’ eyebrows nearly hit his silver hairline. “How many?”

“At least four…” Bishop said. “After Megan started acting off, I caught sight of them.”

“Five,” Megan corrected. “There was a woman on the balcony of the square…”

“Who the hell…” Angel asked.

“Adelita didn’t know. She thought they might be ours.”

“Poquito, that cool head of yours just saved our asses. Again,” Bishop said, watching his mirrors for a tail. “Acting like you were just meeting Adelita for a chat… perfect.”

Taza and Marcus nodded.

“Well, luckily, Adelita believed me that they weren’t ours. We pushed the meeting. She’s going to contact the burner within twenty-four hours for another meet.” Megan turned to look at Angel over the seat where he sat in the bed of the Bronco with Rex. “Angel - you’ll go meet ehr with EZ and be our go between for now.”

Marcus sighed. “Probably best. We have too many eyes on us.”

Chibs ran his ringed fingers through his silver hair. “Did she give you anything I can take back to the Kings? Anythin’ at all?”

“I got the port name. The L.O. control Ensenada port. That’s where the shipments will go. It’s all she’d give me under the circumstances.” Megan leaned her head onto Hank’s shoulder tiredly.

Chibs smiled gently at her over Taza. “Good Lass. That will help.” He reached over and patted her knee. “You look exhausted.”

Taza frowned. “Are you hurting, Chica? You haven’t had any pain relief since this morning.”

Hank immediately dug in his pocket for her pill bottle. “He’s right, Princessa. You shouldn’t let the pain get ahead of you.”

Megan smiled tiredly. “I’m okay. Just the adrenaline.”

“And tension,” El Padrino said. “Take your pain meds, Poquito. We’ll be home soon.”

tags:

@jemmakates

@msjava1972

@drabbles-mc

@delightfulheroshoeflap

@xeniarocks

@iamthegraham

@oureternalbond

@lyly00

@camelia35

@anaeve

@tallrock35

#lost princessa #meet the reaper #lost princessa sequel #taza x daughter!oc #mayans mc #che taza romero #hank loza #megan(oc) x hank #marcus alvarez #angel reyes #chibs telford #mayans mc fanfic #mayans mc fanfiction #mayans

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garbinge · 2 years ago

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A Very Ugly Tie

Jax Teller & OFC Joanne Teller

Day 06 from these April Prompts: “A very ugly tie”

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: Joanne and Jax get ready for their father’s funeral.

Warnings: Angsty, mentions of death, funerals, mourning. This is sad. But I tried not to get too heavy.

A/N: Joanne Teller has been on my mind a lot so here’s a little snippet from the two Teller siblings' life before their adult craziness. This can fit as a little prequel to Charming Life, but no need to read the multichap to read this! That being said, I’ll still be using my Charming Life Taglist for these one shots!

Charming Life Taglist: @drabbles-mc @livingdeadblondequeen @justreblogginfics

Staring at the photos that were tucked and taped on her mirror was sending her back in time. A simpler time. One where she still felt her innocence. Where her father was still alive. Despite it being November, the California sun made the weather comfortably warm, but Joanne was anything but comfortable. The sheer curtains were blowing quietly as the breeze from the window came in, it sent a light shiver down her spine. Quickly, she turned to grab the black shawl to go over her black dress. Figuring out what to wear to her father’s funeral was finding itself to be harder than she thought, although maybe the issue was that she hadn’t given it much thought at all. Being the oldest Teller sister, most of the responsibility of the funeral fell on her. Gemma helped, but she was so far up Clay’s ass and fake mourning that Joanne was forced to step up.

She stared at herself in the mirror for a minute, taking in her outfit at the shawl fell down her shoulders exposing her shoulders along with the half started tattoo sleeves that ran down her arms. With a sigh, she grabbed a hair tie and pulled her blonded streaked black hair back into a ponytail.

“Guess this is as good as it’s gonna get.” She mumbled to herself and grabbed her bag off the bed before tossing it over her shoulder and taking one last look around to make sure she grabbed the book her father had recently finished that she stole from the living room. War and Peace. It was something the two of them did, a little unspoken tradition. JT always had his head in a book and when he’d read the last sentence on the last page, he’d close it, lean back, sigh and place it on the corner of the coffee table and move on to the next. The following day, the book would be gone because it was in Joanne’s room. It was a way she’d feel connected to her father, occasionally they’d talk about the books, the way they understood the themes, the symbolism, sometimes they’d have similar perspectives, sometimes completely different ones.

Joanne was a few chapters into it, the weight the thousand paged book carried was a lot heavier now that JT was dead. None of it made sense. She tossed the book back on her nightstand and moved over to her bookshelf and grabbed another book. The first one Joanne had taken from her father when she was 12. Yellow Eyes. A book about a beautiful and cruel mountain lion who was left orphaned in the wild and how the obstacles and harshness of life taught him to be strong and fierce. It was meant for a young reader, which is probably why JT left it out for a young Joanne, but it truly shaped her into the woman she was. Gemma liked to take credit for her daughter’s fierceness but Jo knew it came from her father.

She grabbed the book and placed it into her bag before leaving her bedroom and making her way down the hallway. The house was quiet, Gemma was likely already at the funeral home, soaking in every minute of the attention, which left Jo and Jax alone at the house.

Jo stopped at Jax’s door which was slightly open, she lightly knocked before pushing it open a little more. Jax was standing in front of the floor length mirror which was covered in Harley stickers and cutouts of pin-up models. He was frustrated as he attempted to knot the tie around the collar of his shirt, failing for what was probably the millionth time.

“I can’t fuckin’ do this.” He was 16, he never had to learn how to tie a tie. He was the son of the president of a Motorcycle club, despite having gone to a funeral before, one for his few day old brother, the most dressed up he had gotten was a polo shirt for some school event and the club definitely teased the young boy about it. For Thomas’ funeral, it was intimate, short, and very sad, but there wasn’t a need for proper attire since it was done at the hospital day of his passing.

Jo walked over to her younger brother, tossing her bag on his messy unmade bed before moving right in front of him. The irony here was that JT probably should have been the one to teach Jax how to properly do this but now it was up to Joanne.

“The key is to have the narrow side on the left and a little higher.” Jo said as she fidgeted with the tie and started looping and knotting.

Just as she finished she grabbed his shoulders and turned him to the mirror to get a look at himself. His face said it all.

“Why the fuck am I wearing this stupid shit.” Jax moved away to his desk and slapped his lamp off of it in frustration.

“Come here.” Joanne shook her head and met her brother halfway. She started to loosen the tie and take it off over his head before fixing the collar of his black button up shirt, “It was an ugly tie anyway.”

“What are we supposed to do?” Jax asked as Joanne stepped back.

“We finish getting ready, Opie picks us up, we bury our father, and then we drink at the clubhouse.” Jo looked at Jax with a blank face.

“But–” Jax started to argue. She knew that wasn’t the answer he was looking for or even the question he was asking.

“That’s all I got, little brother.” Joanne shook her head. “That’s all I got.” She sat down on his desk chair and started to swivel around in it.

“Why’s Ope picking us up?” Jax plopped in front of Jo on his bed.

“Gemma’s at the funeral home already soaking in the sympathy, I didn’t want to drive so I called Opie.” Jo explained.

There was silence between them for a good few minutes. Jax was deep in thought, Jo could tell because he looked like JT. It made her smile.

“Would you be mad if I took my bike?” Jax didn’t bother looking at his sister, he was staring either out of the window that was above the headboard of his bed or at the Harley poster directly to the right of it.

“No, I think that’d be good.” Jo nodded. “I–uh, I’m gonna bring something to put in the casket. Just somethin’ stupid. It’s a book.” Her head shook as her hands came up to wipe her eyes even though there was no sign of any tears.

“‘S’not stupid, Jo.” Jax’s voice had confidence behind it, something that was missing lately. “I mean, c’mon. That was dad’s thing with you.” He shrugged and then let out a chuckle. “I remember coming to the clubhouse after school one day and you were sitting in the garage next to Dad as he worked on the bike, nose deep into one of the million fuckin’ books he gave you and you looked up and said to Dad, ‘this is the most boring fucking book I have ever read.’”

Joanne laughed, she knew immediately which book it was from the story Jax told.

“The Fountainhead.”

“I thought Dad was going to smack the shit out of you.” Jax grinned.

“He’d never.” Joanne matched his smile. “I’m pretty sure he turned around and said, ‘sometimes reading is less about the pages you’re turning and–’”

“‘–more about the message you’re absorbing.’” Jax finished the sentence. “I still wish he smacked you upside the head.”

Joanne chuckled, “He saved that for you. Remember when you stole his bike in the middle of the night? Jesus Christ, I swear to this day I saw steam coming out of his ears.”

Jax let out a belly laugh, “I took some girl to Dairy Queen.”

The two of them laughed as they reminisced about their father. For a moment feeling like nothing had changed and that they would walk out into the main part of the house and see him sitting at the head of their kitchen table. But soon, reality came crashing down on them as the ringing of the doorbell and the sound of Opie’s voice calling out to them filled the house.

The two siblings looked up at each other. “I guess it’s time.” Jax said standing up.

Joanne nodded and made her way to the door of his room and slipped out, leaving her hand on the wood as she stopped walking for a moment.

“You know, things are gonna change, Jax.” She turned her head over her shoulder to look at him. “But I want you to know, I’m here. I was here when Tommy passed, and I’m still here now.” Joanne paused for a minute to read the room, read her brother’s expression. His head was nodding and there was a small smile growing on his face to show his appreciation so she double tapped on the door with her palm, out of a nervous habit, and left him with one more sentiment.

“And I always will be. Don’t forget that.”

#Jax Teller #Jackson Teller #jax teller x oc #Jax teller x sister #SOA #sons of anarchy #soa fanfic #sons of anarchy fanfiction #oc joanne teller #soa jax

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mushangaa · 10 months ago

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Hey you wonderful person. Calling you out because you are my favorite type of tagger a true godsend for any artist ever because not only do you make me do happy wiggles anytime I see you in my notifs but also you are the kind of person who engages and looks deeper and I appreciate this so damn much about you.

Especially since you also cottoned in on the whole thing with bismuth needing heat and pressure to form. This connection is so important because look. Frida is the oldest. She is the oldest oldest, Raph is second oldest in this story, they both share the oldest sibling title / responsibilities though, they both take care of their siblings, they both share that burden of sometimes being the adults in the house when their dad struggles with his mental health. They both sometimes feel the strain. And were is the heat connection there? Well... Raphs element is fire. He couldn't be anything else. A raging inferno that could devastate anything in his path if he let himself. Anger issues have always been a huge part of Raphaels characterization across the different versions of TMNT but Rise is precious to me specifically because of how different they play it, how he deals with it. How he reigns himself in very purporsefully because he is big and strong and he does not wanna hurt his siblings even on accident so he deals and learns and shit and this is so HHHH my jam. But Fire is not only destructive. It is also nurturing, a source of warmth, a source of safety out in the wilderness. A warm hearth to curl up in front of. Raph is both loving and caring and angry and impulsive but he will not let himself be consumed and become a danger to his family. But yeah okay so Frida and Raph are very close and play off each other and all that jazz... and if the pressure becomes to much for one, the other will step to their side and shoulder the load together and yeah... hence Bismuth (Metal) and Fire.

And yeah i know the interactions between fire and metal in the five element system are not exactly this wholesome but since I deal with 6 elements and play this a bitt more loose you can bet your ass i make Fire (Raph) and Metal (Frida) be fucking wholesome. Tho the whole fire could melt metal and metal weakens fire by conducting heat away from it could also be like.. them reigning each other in when their more destructive tendencies take hold. Frida might not be as buff as Raph but she can pin him down if she needs to, likewise he can subdue her as well. Nevermind this works too, but in a wholesome way of them checking each other if they go too far or loose control and that way they do not have to worry too much about their destructive aspects because they know they have each others back. The one person they can trust not to accidentally hurt because they are on the same level of strength, care deeply about their families and would never let harm come over their little siblings, even if that means catching an errant fist before it flies or what have you. I love them so much okay.

And I do love you as well, platonically of course, but you bring me joy and I feel seen and understood when you pick up on the little things I play around with, like the shawl thing in the picture with the younger future Leo were it is just a thin band that cannot protect him like... fuck yeah you got it knocked it out of the park your words are precious to me.

just thought i let you know

#mushanga speaks #the unicorn paradox #the way you just get me okay #kinky-asexual you're a real G #the things you write spark joy #long post #the unicorn paradox rambles

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norel-ravenclaw · 1 year ago

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Hello there as promised here there are my requests 🤗🤗 1 Nsfw with fem reader Dom/Sub and Size Kink with Dark Keith (pls no choking) if it is alright with you

2 Praise Kink with Soft Keith ( they praise one another)

Thank you Have a wonderful day 🙏🙏😻😻💌💌

Antler & Fur

Fandom: Ikemen Prince (otome)

Featured Character: Keith

Genre: Erotic romance

Rating: 18+

Word count: 2900

Description: Dark!Keith gets to go first, and is in the mood to get kinky~ Once he's had his fun, Nice!Keith finishes off the night.

This wing of the castle is a ghost town these days.

My footsteps echo on the polished tiles, smirking at the emptiness. The rooms down this hall above and below have all been converted to daytimes offices and storage rooms. No one dares to step foot in them after dinner.

Why?

The ghost of course.

I smirk as dozens of memories fill my mind, and hasten my step. The feared phantom is waiting for me.

Walking into our bedroom, my eye is drawn to the desk where the lamp is lit, my diligent wife hard at work even as the moon rises in the evening sky.

She looks over her shoulder as I enter, and I watch with great amusement as her expression shifts from a pinched brow, to a happy smile, to widened eyes as I turn the lock.

"Such a good girl, working so hard, hm?"

While we've been married for months now, she is still shy, slowly rising from her chair.

Though I know several other reasons why.

Number one. We've been planning for tonight for several days now.

Number two. She may not have known whether the night would start with me.

Number three. One look into my eyes and she knows that she's just been locked in a room with a beast.

Her wide eyes don't leave me as I approach. "Y-yes. It's been a busy day."

"Hm?" I stop in front of her, watching as she fidgets with the fringe on her shawl. Reaching out, I grasp the edges of it and pull her close to me. "Well then, good girls deserve rewards."

A thrum of excitement runs through me having caught my prey. She won't leave my grasp until the sun is high tomorrow. Wasting no time, I lean down to kiss her.

She clutches my jacket, moaning sweetly as I deepen the kiss. As I crowd her back to pin her against the wall, she gasps, allowing me to push my tongue into her mouth.

The stress of the day melts away as I focus entirely on the soft body pressing against mine. Impatient, I toss aside her shawl and forcefully spin her around to unlace her dress.

"Ah! K-Keith!" She puts her hands against the wall and half hides her face in them like a cat.

The sight makes me chuckle. "Aren't you adorable, kitten?"

She shrinks further, making a tiny noise of embarrassment.

"Ha. Cute." I hastily unlace the ribbon, leaning down to pepper kisses along her nape, only slowing down as I push the gown off of her shoulders. The expensive fabric pools at her feet, and I start pulling the pins from her hair.

When her long tresses are finally free, I run my fingers through it, making her groan.

"Ah, that's always so nice."

Again I turn her towards me, kicking her dress aside while I do. Looking into her more relaxed face, I kiss her again. She starts unbuttoning my jacket as I undo the clasps on her corset.

Breaking the kiss, she mutters, "Your boots," as she drops to her knees.

I remove my coat and shirt before picking her up and tossing her over my shoulder. She shrieks and grabs onto my arm.

"Come now, kitten, when have I ever dropped you?"

Throwing her down on the bed, I climb over her, smirking. "You know I'm plenty strong enough."

She blushes prettily, evidently too overwhelmed to reply with more than a nod. And so I set to work removing the rest of her clothes.

Once her skin is bare, I reach for the ropes attached to the four posters of the bed.

Capturing her wrists and ankles in the loops, I watch her expression. "Are you ready for this?"

Through the delicate skin on her wrists, I can feel her heart racing. But she nods. "Y-yes. I trust you."

"Good. Remember that. I'm not gonna go easy on you. Safe word?"

"...Yellow, my lord."

Damn that's hot... I take a moment to admire her laid out before me, naked and bound, trembling slightly - from anticipation and nerves both.

Grabbing her chin, I lean in close. "You like this, hm? Being so small and helpless to me. I can do anything I want to you right now."

Somehow she manages to blush harder. "...You know I do."

"Mm." I dive in for another kiss, conquering her mouth as I strip off the last of my clothes.

Lowering myself down, I let some of my body weight rest on top of her. The feeling of her nipples rubbing against my chest makes me growl into her mouth. Already getting hard, I let my cock rub against her thigh.

She squirms and writhes in the ropes as I begin to touch her, trailing my hands over her most sensitive spots. Her throat, the gentle slope of her breasts, her waist, her hips. Then I hook my hands under her knees and force them further apart.

She gasps and whines, and I smirk at the sheen of slick coating her folds.

"Look at how wet you are already. Does this mean I should tie you up more often?"

I let her legs stay open as I lean down to kiss and suck on her nipples. She arches against me, searching for some sort of pressure against her cunt. But I dont oblige her.

"Patience, sweetheart. I'm going to be pounding into you until you're raw, so don't worry."

She mewls at my words, gasping adorably every time my tongue flicks at her pink tips.

I gently knead the hyper sensitive flesh between my teeth. "Who's your master?"

"Ah! You are!"

I finally reward her by bringing a hand down between her legs. After stroking her most delicate spots, I finally touch her soaked slit. Feeling her arousal makes me moan, and I tease by dragging my fingertips back and forth from her taint to her clit.

"Master....!" she cries softly.

"You like this pet? How about this?" I move up to kiss her, watching her reaction as I push two fingers into her tight hole.

She groans and furrows her brow. My fingers are much thicker than hers, after all. Shivering at the sudden intrusion, she writhes more, whether to get away or chase more, I can't tell.

The sound her body makes when I begin thrusting my fingers is positively sinful. Her tight, wet walls squeeze me relentlessly, the velvety feel of it making me raging hard.

Knowing my patience is at its end already, I start scissoring them inside her, occasionally rubbing against her most sensitive spot.

She cries out louder, her hips bucking against my hand. The ropes keep her from moving away, and I wrap an arm around her waist to force her down harder.

Her body wracks in pleasurable agony as I work her up to the edge. Once I feel the beginning spasms, I quickly take out my fingers, grasping her chest with a wet hand as I shove my cock into her.

She gasps and whines, brow furrowed at the burning stretch as I force myself in and start immediately thrusting.

But I know her body, and it works. The stimulation is enough to finish the job and send her over the edge.

Her eyes water as the undulating waves of pleasure wrack through her. "Master! Mmh!"

I hiss in ecstasy at the ungodly tight squeeze of her shaft, throbbing hard round me. Focusing on fast, shallow thrusts, I viciously work her through her high.

The ropes and my arm holding her body down beneath me force her to take every bit of pleasure.

I groan, gritting my teeth as she suddenly squeezes me harder, a gush of her juices coating our thighs.

Watching her eyes roll back, I smirk in satisfaction at having broken her so quickly.

Now we can just lose ourselves to the unbearable pleasure and forget the rest of the world.

I lean down to kiss her neck and suck at her throat as I rock my hips against her, slowly forcing in the rest of my length until it all fits inside her.

"Such a good girl. Taking my cock so well."

Her reply is a strangled sort of cry that makes me throb.

"Good girl."

I've made her so oversensitive, I can feel her approach the edge yet again.

"Gonna cum again, pet? Cum all over me and let me take you," I pant out.

She buries her face in my chest, her body and mind too lost in pleasure to try to keep up a rhythm with me.

Bucking and arching wildly, she tips over the edge again, and I can't help but lose myself too as she screams.

Thrusting hard and fast, I abuse her tiny hole to reach my climax, pumping her full until I can't thrust any more.

Leaving myself inside her, I find a way to rest on her chest. She's heaving, gasping and moaning, writhing against the ropes and under my heavy body. But she doesn't complain.

I rub her waist and breast comfortingly as we come down. Lazily, I finger her nipple and massage the soft place where her hip meets her thigh.

"Did so good for me, kitten. Letting this big beast take you."

She moans, whimpering pitifully.

The sound turns me on further, and I start to get hard inside her again.

Her dazed eyes look up at me pleadingly as I shift, pulling her hips into my lap. The way her eyes cross when I start thrusting down into her makes me laugh.

"Listen to you. So loud, hm? So wet and submissive for me~"

This new angle lets me see myself bullying into her soaked pussy, and I hiss in pleasure at the sight. Her hair splayed against the bed, her kiss-swollen red lips and nipples, her writhing against the onslaught of the pleasure I'm giving her.

Watching my thick length disappear into her stretched hole over and over drives me feral. I redouble my efforts, holding her body still as I ravage her. She seems so small compared to me as I manhandle her in my lap into a better position.

Her gasps and cries never get old, "Master! Please," she sobs prettily, "I can't..."

"You can't take it? I think you can. You take it so well every time I give it to you. Even when you're bleeding."

She whines and tries to hide her face in the blanket, to no avail.

"You'll be my good girl and take whatever I want to give you, right?"

Whimpering as I go even deeper, she throws her head back. I smirk, holding onto her hips tightly, only just shy of leaving bruises.

I let my own head fall back, relishing in the feeling of her body, listening to her endless sounds of pleasure.

When it's finally getting to be too much, I move my hand to rub at her clit.

The sudden stimulation shocks her, making her scream out loud. Her hips buck against mine, and she pulls on the ropes binding her wrists so tightly I'm nearly afraid she'll hurt herself.

She wails in ecstasy as I force another orgasm from her. I bite my lip hard to hold on to my own release as her pleasure goes on longer than usual. I groan at the effort to keep thrusting and rubbing without bursting, watching her sweat-slicked body writhe and spasm at the force of the climax.

Finally the obscene squelch of her cunt drives me over the edge. I let myself moan out loud as I pump her full for a second time.

Careful to not crush her, I collapse beside her, glancing down to watch the sticky white seed pour out of her abused hole. Desperately, I pull her into a messy kiss. We're both breathing so hard that it's nearly impossible, moaning and mewling against each other's lips.

I reach out with a trembling hand to stroke her damp hair. "Such a good girl. Took me so well, kitten."

She whines softly and nuzzles against me. "You went so hard today."

Pulling back a little, I meet her eye, a little concerned. But she shakes her head, still panting.

"It was amazing."

Her words let me relax a little. "Good. I'm still not done with you. But I guess I have to leave him a little bit."

Feeling suddenly exhausted, I kiss her once more. "See you tomorrow, love."

"Goodnight, master." She grins, sucking on my tongue.

I try to hold on to enjoy one last second, but the weed is determined, and everything goes dark.

-~-~-~

Coming into things like this is overwhelming.

I lay beside my wife whose hands and feet are bound in black rope, her skin and hair drenched in sweat, a... considerable mess between her thighs.

Seeing her chest still heaving from exertion and the tears still wet on her face, a noise of panic escapes me.

"Ah! M-my love are you alright?" I frantically reach out to brush her hair and tears away.

Her smile melts through the tension. "Yes. I'm fine. Are you?"

I nod and hastily reach over to undo her bonds. But as I do, my... arousal brushes her legs, making more of a mess.

"...Oh! Oh dear. Forgive me."

She shakes her head and takes a slow breath. "Never mind. It's all right."

Once her ankles are free, I am left sitting over her, viewing the mess that he made of her.

I swallow hard. "He was awfully hard on you, wasn't he? Do you think...?"

She bites her lip and closes her legs, rubbing her thighs together. "I think so. ...If you're gentle."

My expression softens, and I climb over her. Softly caressing her skin, I kiss up her body to her lips.

"My darling wife."

"Keith..."

I kiss her tenderly, slowly, massaging her trembling muscles. Too eager for my own good after seeing her so undone, I gently part her thighs.

"May I? Or we can wait. I don't want to rush you if you need more time to recover from... everything he did to you."

She wraps her arms around my neck and nuzzles my cheek. "I can't even think right now. Do whatever you want. It's alright."

Her words snap the last of my self control. Slowly, I align myself with her and slowly press in.

Her warm heat envelops me, the slick from her previous lovemaking making it easy to slide all the way in. The pleasure makes me groan rather pathetically, and I arch into her, kissing her face.

"You feel so good," I whisper. "Forgive me for rushing."

She mewls and clings to me harder as I slowly rock against her. "Just- ah! Just take me."

So I thrust a little harder. I reach between us to fondle her breasts, softly rolling her nipples between my fingers. Her noises in my ear drive me to distraction, and I can't help but go a little faster.

Wrapping an arm around her waist and hitching her leg tighter around my waist, I hold her tightly to me.

“Keith! S-so big… so good.”

“Ah! You make me lose my mind. So perfect for me…”

As her moans and whines pick up in pitch, I change the roll of my hips to better stimulate her clit. Once her hips start jerking off the bed, I know I've got the right angle.

I push her to the edge, going faster and harder until she cries out. Holding her close, I keep her hips still, drawing out her pleasure longer. Her fingers entangle in my hair, and she chants my name until her whole body goes limp beneath me.

Feeling my own release building, I kiss her apologetically. "Almost there, darling, then I'll let you go."

She nods. "I-it's okay. It’s too good. You’re… ah!"

With her final permission, I chase a high of my own, filling her to overflowing with my love.

Finally, I pull out, looking down at her gorgeous form. Still breathing hard, I move back. "Let me get you cleaned up."

Before she can protest, I leap up, trying to hide the shake in my own legs and I fetch a damp cloth from the dressing stand to take care of the... considerable mess.

She watches me with hooded eyes as I clean between her legs. Clearing my throat, I hastily return to get another rag to run over her heated skin.

"Are you sure you're alright? I don't know how many times you... went tonight. And I was rougher than usual."

Smiling sweetly at me, she traps my hand atop her chest. "Keith, it was amazing. I'm fine I promise."

“You do so well for us, sweetheart.” I set the cloth aside and crawl into bed with her. Pulling her close, I kiss the top of her head.

"I don't mind doing the aftercare with you, you know. But I do want to be the first sometimes. We'll have to talk to him about it."

She laughs at my pouting and pulls me close enough for a kiss. "Of course, darling."

Reaching down, I pull up the... rather damp blanket to cover us.

As the silence settles over us, our racing hearts at last settling, I rub her arm comfortingly.

"...You know we both love you, right?"

"Yes, I do."

"...Good." Her breathing evens out, and I still my hand. "Don't you forget it."

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cosmiksouls1 · 1 year ago

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: ✨✨♥️ Deep Red Cape Rose Florals Lightweight Gold Buttons Arm Openings at Sides ✨.

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house-strong · 2 years ago

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— DRAGONS BANE, chapter two ʾ ⋆

CHAPTER TWO – nefarious tastes.

glossary ; chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five, chapter six.

summary ; now being the handmaiden of princess helaena targaryen, your presence in the red keep is starting to become welcomed. servants smile and bowed their heads to you, often sneaking you a cake or two at the end of the day. the walking calamity known as aemond, continues to cause perplexity in your wake.

pairing ; enemies-to-lovers!aemond targaryen x tyrell!reader. taglist ; @cypherpt5fttaehyung @farmerpinkpie @tachibubu @underatreedrinkingtea @anita-alice want to join the taglist? click me!

it’s not even the break of dawn when you are forced to awaken from your slumber. followed by a dream that’s quickly forgotten, pale beams of light backed by a soft gray-blue seeps in from your covered window. you allow yourself a moment to think about the past couple of days you have spent with the princess.

princess helaena has been nothing less than sweet. she asks you to read to her, dance with her, and help her decide what clothes she wants to wear for the day. helaena would even go as far as to show you her royal insect collection, allowing you to see the centipedes and beetles she had in her room. although scared and frightened by the little creatures, you had grown to become fond when you realize how domestic and cute they actually are. you suppose you’re envious of the freedom she flaunts in front of you, though you believed it wasn’t on purpose or of any ill intent. unlike aemond and the rest of her family, she seemed like your position as her lady-in-waiting was just that.

a servant girl knocks on your door, to which you call out and beckon her in. she comes in quietly, giving you a polite curtsy before moving towards your filled wardrobe. you recall her name being elayne. rows of dresses are hung up – arrays of blues and greens blurring into one big blob. the servant glances back at you as your rise from your bed. having taken a bath last night, you simply approach her and hug yourself, growing nervous under her gaze. though she was also a girl, being near nakedness made you shy.

“what shall you wear today, my lady?” she asks timidly. you shuffle forward and pick out a pale green dress, one that has a shawl attached to the neck. elayne pulls it out and allows it to come into full view. the abdomen section has twists of vines and roses of darker accent and the dress has shorts sleeves.

you nod, “that one shall do.”

you move behind a divider, discarding your clothes and facing the other way whilst she helps you dress. you notice that she averts her gaze sometimes when near your nakedness and to that, you are grateful.

as the sun breaks the horizon and pale light becomes a stronger beacon, your front strands of hair is pinned into a makeshift crown over your head. loose waves, from the pigtails you wore that night, fall upon your shoulders. you quietly thank her for your help and roll some of your perfume on – the aroma of raspberry, apricot, and jasmine filling the air. you sigh and open the door to your room, closing the door after you before making a beeline toward the royal apartments.

up the tower and into the level where her bedroom resided, you come upon the kingsguard sworn to her service. he turns his head to face you, though, you can’t put a name to the face and instead smile politely. without another word (but you did notice the small quiver of his lip.. perhaps he was going to smile back?), the kingsguard moves from the door and opens it for you. you enter, surprised to see princess helaena already awake.

“princess helaena, good morrow,” you greet, curtsying once she makes eye contact with you. the look of pure bliss lightens your heart and you can’t help but return her dazzling smile.

“lady (y/n)!” she responds happily before returning her attention to her dresser. she pulls two dresses from the box; one purple with white detailing or a warm, yellow one with the same detailing. “which of these shall i wear today?”

you hum in thought, approaching the princess and her two decisions. after a moment, you decided that you liked purple on her the most. after voicing your opinion, she seems to nod in approval, as if your choice was the right one. you help her discard her nightgown and help her pull on her chemise. you help her dress, pushing aside her hair when needed and tightening the laces on her back.

once she’s dressed, she moves to sit at her vanity table, her hand moving to pull her hair back within your reach. your hand extends towards her hair brush, removing the hair that was once on it before moving the comb through her silver locks. once tamed, you peeked into the dirty window to eye helaena.

“did you have a particular hairstyle in mind, my princess?” you ask, your head tilting to the side as she thinks in silence. she tells you her wish and you fulfill it to the best of your ability. you put the pins in place and seems to marvel at your work.

helaena stands and suddenly grabs your hands with hers, and with a certain kind of urgency, “beware the beast beneath the boards.” the message is cryptic and sends a chilling shiver down your spine. your brows furrow and you attempt to make sense of what she said, but the princess has abandoned you to walk towards the door. she’s as radiant as ever, the cryptic message she just spewed was almost as if it didn’t happen. “come, lady (y/n), i want you to read me some poetry.”

wordlessly, you allow helaena to loop her arm through yours, effectively entangling you to the princess and forcing you to follow her lead. you both pass by an array of doors and halls, then your matched steps slow as you entered what was a private library with the door slightly ajar. you take a moment to look around the room. tall bookshelves stand menacingly and no doubt there are cobwebs and dust collecting at the top of each stand. your eyes trail towards the unlit fireplace, where a chair is occupied by a long and silver-haired man. aemond.

he turns his head fully, a soft smile forming on his lips at the sight of helaena. however, the smile falters when he notices you’re standing next to her. you noticed that his leg is crossed over the other and there is a book nestled in his lap. he puts his arm over the parchment, as if to shield it from your eyes. you let out a puff of air in annoyance, removing yourself from helaena to observe the books that lined the shelves.

“helaena,” he greets with a warm voice, with which you can practically hear the smile. then in almost a sneer, “little ward.”

you can feel his singular eye glaring daggers into your back and you can feel yourself physically bristle at the notion. but, you promised yourself you wouldn’t let aemond have another victory over you, so instead, you elect to ignore him altogether.

“aemond,” she gushes and you hear movement behind you. you assume she had sat upon the empty chair that was adjacent to his. they begin to chat, about what, you didn’t know and you didn’t care to listen in. one exchange does get your attention: you hear him compliment her perfume, but she declines and says it isn’t her. from there, you can feel the lingering stare of aemond’s eye from time to time.

it’s almost as if queen alicent knows when you three are in the same room, for she passes by, then doubles back to enter the room. she dismisses her guard and you turn around, curtsying at her arrival.

she’s quick to give you a smile, “lady (y/n), how lovely you look.” there’s a pause before it seems like she remembers her other children are in the room. she turns to them, greeting them both by name. when the queen sits, she turns to you and pats the chair closest to her, “come sit here, lady (y/n).”

this interaction seems to irritate the targaryen prince. you hadn’t been here for a fortnight yet and somehow, you’ve already gained interest from his mother. with kindness that he hadn’t seen since he received his eye-scar being so freely handed to you, he felt like this was a slap in the face. he scoffs audibly when you do as your told, not before shutting the book in his lap angrily and then tossing it carelessly by the table stand next to his chair. he gets up and moves in between the chairs, sauntering out of the room.

his dramatic exit seems to be ignored by the queen mother, who extends her hand out to rub helaena’s shoulder. the princess, however, moves away from her touch. you make sure that you pretend to not notice this sequence by looking down at your hands folded neatly in your lap.

“helaena, my dear, there’s something i need to discuss with you.” instinctively, you perk up at the queen’s words, but try your best to not seem too interested. you notice out of the corner of your eye that the princess can’t look her mother in the eye. she’s avoidant and shrugging away her hold. “your grandfather and i have decided that,” she pauses as if she’s still deciding what words to use, “you shall marry aegon within the fortnight.”

disappointment begins to crawl through your skin, seeping into your blood veins and washing over your body like a sickness. you feel repulsed by the mere, expressed idea. following the faith of the seven, you were always taught that relations between family members were strictly forbidden. as a woman of the faith, you had expected the queen to forego the typical targaryen customs, but alas, she did not. you feel your stomach turn and the blood rush into your ears.

you stand up abruptly, wincing at the screech of the chair against the stone floor, “forgive me, my queen, my princess. this is a delicate matter that i believe you two should be discussing alone.” the queen mother’s expression softens at you and she nods her head in agreement. helaena looks at you, almost in pleading, but as you pass her, you give her shoulder a gentle squeeze. you note that she doesn’t shy away from your grasp.

your body slides through the crack with ease and you pull the door shut. you inhale deeply, resting your head against the wooden door – it’s cool to the touch, no doubt trying to extinguish the heat that grows over your face. you fan yourself with your hand, trying your best to calm down. you remove yourself from the door and you begin to walk, not noticing that you feet are taking you towards the godswood.

without looking, you round the corner with speed and run into a solid chest. disoriented, you take a few steps back and gather your bearings, immediately apologizing to whomever you had run into. you look up and it’s the smug face of aemond staring back at you.

“oh, it’s you.” you don’t mean the words to come out as harsh as they did, though it doesn’t seem to effect the prince.

“where are you off to in such a hurry, little ward?” he asks casually, his head tilting to the side as he observes your flustered features. his voice and his face do not fail to irritate you – enough so that you want to slap him and shove him out of your way. without a doubt, he was slowly starting to get under your skin with every fiber of his being.

you brush past him, but keep your voice low, “i’m not a ward.” he’s quick to turn on his heel and follow you by your side – his good eye on the same half.

“says the ward,” he taunts effortlessly.

annoyance begins to bubble in your blood, “must you be so cruel?”

out of the corner of you eye, he shrugs mindlessly, “i’m merely stating a matter of fact.” god, the pretentious bastard. you carry on toward the godswood, but you don’t fail to miss the fact that his presence is still by your side.

“i thought you said you didn’t want to be friends?” you ask callously, shooting him a pointed look.

he thinks for a moment, his eye unwavering from the path ahead, “i don’t. i’m just curious.” he hums as if he’s devising another sentence that will continue to infuriate you. nothing comes out of his mouth, but you’re too hopeful that he won’t say anything. “i like to stay one step ahead of everyone else.”

you scoff at his response and attempt to shake him from your walk. you pick up your pace, then his long strides equal yours and his pretentious face is still within view. you chew on your bottom lip to avoid saying something too out of line. soon, you arrive at the open courtyard that houses the godswood. what should’ve been a peaceful and quiet time for thought, would not be so with aemond around. you walk towards the bench placed across from the weirwood tree, sitting down on it with a defeated huff. aemond, unfortunately, settles on the other side of the bench.

you’re only allowed to cherish the few mere moments that aemond is silent. with a turn of your head, you’re quick to cut his sentence off before it even starts.

“you say you don’t want to be friends, but yet, you’re here,” you say, eyes narrowing as you cross your legs, “like a moth to a flame.”

aemond tuts, “you’re unusually uncontentious,” he states, also crossing his legs. the action causes you to roll your eyes. would you ever be rid of him? “what’s got you in a foul mood?”

if he was anyone else, you would’ve mistaken these questions for kindness at friendship, but then you remember the conversation you had a few days ago and how callously he reminds you that he doesn’t like your presence. you think for a moment, fingers drumming along the armrest on the bench.

“your brother is marrying your sister,” you finally say. you don’t miss the way shock washes over his face. he’s fast to cover it up though, his expression more hardened than before. it wasn’t a secret how aemond felt about aegon – a loose-end, a rock in the road. “it’s not right.”

aemond had finally found something to agree with you on, but he knew it was for vastly different purposes and not because his brother was the farthest thing that would be worthy of a delight like helaena. he too contemplates for a moment, turning his head to the side so he could allow his eye to fully take you in.

“why do you think it’s not right?” he actually doesn’t care about your specific opinion on why it’s not a good match, but like he said, curiosity clawed at him.

you feel his intense gaze on your side profile. you turn and meet this gaze, almost defiant, “the faith teaches us otherwise.”

aemond doesn’t expect that answer, but despite his best to not to, he laughs anyway. it’s dry and humorless, though it’s expressing his discontent with your words.

his laughter dies down and is exalted with a scoff of disbelief, “i forget that others follow faith so blindly, like sheep.” it’s your turn to tut and shake your head disapprovingly. “you don’t agree?”

“no,” you response comes out as a matter-of-fact. with the anger and annoyance bubbling inside of you right now, you start picking at your fingernails as a way to release the energy. at this point, you believe he starts saying things just to piss you off. “sheep have less free will than we do. to compare us to them is outrageous.”

aemond’s hands raise to rub at his chin, “yet, i still did it.”

there’s an uncomfortable silence that settles over the two of you. you begin to bounce you leg, to which the prince notices.

“itching to go somewhere?”

you look down at your hands, “i am.”

“well, stay.” if it wasn’t a command and he not an asshole, the sentence would’ve been sweet. aemond felt like a hypocrite as he usually hated when he was commanded to do something by someone who outranked him, though, there was something he enjoyed about being around you and feeling your fury for him grow (he’d never admit that). perhaps his destiny was to piss you off for your time in kings landing. “if my family asked you to repeat what you said here today, but in front of our dragons and our men, would you have easily confessed your thoughts?”

his question, without a doubt, sends you into a spiral of thought. to say what you said whilst you forgot yourself in the presence of aemond, the prince, well, you’d assume it was the closest thing to treason that you’ve uttered. the rights or wrongs of the royal family wasn’t yours to voice and maybe you should’ve remembered yourself.

you turn your head, expression bordering uncertainty, “no, i wouldn’t, my prince.”

although aemond doesn’t like the fact that you’ve yet again called him prince, he seems vaguely satisfied that he’s secured yet another victory over you. if the small, sly smirk that quirked up one corner of his mouth wasn’t enough, he decided to say, “that’s what i thought.”

and despite being a lady-in-waiting at the behest of the queen, perhaps you shouldn’t have muttered what you did.

“you targaryens and your weird customs,” you pause, anger dripping from your words, “these nefarious actions will be your downfall.”

aemond, seemingly not even being affected by your choice of words against his family (one could’ve assumed he agreed, though that wasn’t yours or his to tell), simply quips back to your outburst, “i can’t wait to see it.”

with that, you can’t help but storm off in defeat away from the one–eyed prince. he was right, in some way, about what he was saying. but, it’s also not easy to forget what you’ve been taught over the past decade of learning at highgarden.

days that turn into weeks end up passing before the day of marriage between helaena and aegon had arrived. you were sure that aegon had spent the last few weeks on the street of silk, for his lustrous eyes and the stink of woman was awkwardly obvious. he had even tried to advance on to you with helaena in sight once, but was quickly scolded when his mother noticed. helaena, ever the dear, hadn’t even noticed.

with a beautiful gown that dragged across the floor with each step on, helaena looked like the most fair and true maiden across westeros. she was the spitting image of the mother, or at least, what you thought would be a depiction of the mother. still, helaena‘a beautiful features were clouded by sadness and despair.

“helaena,” you say carefully, helping the other handmaidens fix the last of her hair. the silver wisps were pinned up, with multiple coils of braids and a makeshift crown that folded over the top of her head. she gives you a look through the mirror, her bottom lip beginning to tremble. “i can finish her off, out, the rest of you.”

when the last servant clears the room, helaena breaks off into small, quiet sobs. they seem practiced, for her body didn’t shudder and she didn’t gasp for air. you feel a twang of guilt hit you, perhaps being a princess wasn’t as dreamy as the child version of you had once thought. you frown and kneel beside her chair, taking her hands into yours.

“what’s wrong, princess?” you ask tenderly. you remove one hand from the fold, raising it to wipe away the tears that began to fall.

“i- i,” the princess starts through breaths. she’s unsure, you can tell, but the gentle squeeze you give her hands urges her to tell her truth. “i don’t want to marry aegon.”

your heart breaks for your princess, “i’m sorry, dear helaena. forgive me for speaking plainly, but you are so radiant and so kind, that sack of human flesh doesn’t deserve someone as warm as you.”

you pause, stroking the remnants of her hair that laid in waves against her dress. she seems to calm at your words and she’s thankful that someone else sees what she sees in aegon. perhaps it wasn’t such a secret like her mother made it out to be. you think for a moment before rubbing away the tears that will surely stain her cheeks.

“for going through this, you are so strong. if you can get through this, you can get through anything.” helaena’s sobs have turned into sniffles and gasps of air. “you are extraordinary, princess.”

and with a soft, reassuring kiss to her hands, helaena feels as if she’s ready. not ready to face her doom, as she called it, but ready to keep the facade she’s had for so long. you gently toss her veil over her face, holding out your arm for her to hold. she follows your lead as she evens out her breaths. her grandfather, ser otto, takes her from your grasp and continues to walk her down the aisle.

you stand alongside where some other court ladies had gathered, your hands wringing each other out. you watch as the maester conducts the ceremony, his words loud and clear. besides the nature of the wedding, you would’ve remarked how this was a beautiful day. the shroud that follows the princess however, deems it otherwise.

you watch as aegon hesitantly lifts her veil and at the prompt of the maester, aegon gives her a kiss. the two then turn to the small crowd and they begin to applaud. you’re reluctant to join, but the look helaena casts you persuaded you. you give her a smile and clap despite everything in your being telling you not to. you turn your head and notice aemond, his solemn expression obvious and his hands un-clapping.

the look of unhappiness doesn’t leave helaena and you feel your heart lurch for the princess.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #dragons bane #my writing

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autumnleaves1991-blog · 4 years ago

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Okay soooo I know that Oberyn is your fave, so I'm going to request our sex god of a Prince. "You'll have to make me." "Oh, is that so?" *evil laugh here* Can't wait to see what my bestie boo comes up with

A/N: I’m in love with Oberyn Martell so thank you for indulging me. :D ILY

Thank you for every reblog, comment, and like.

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x F! Reader (Little Sparrow) x Ellaria Sand

Warnings: 18 + Only (Language, domesticity, oral F! receiving, mentions of sexy times)

Masterlist

Lemon Tarts

You stood across from the three little girls, their hands on their hips, just like their father. “Obella, Dorea, Loreza,” you stern your expression, “which of you did it?”

“What do you mean, Mama?” Dorea asks with a grin; oh, the sly viper had taught his daughters well. Ellaria giggles behind, and you turn to stick your tongue out at her. “Mommy, is she well?”

“Your Mama is quite well, my love, but she wants to know which of you naughty girls took the lemon tarts from the kitchen?” They look conspiratorially between each other, and you bite your lip to stop the smile that threatens to show. “Come now,” she demands, “Which one of you did it?”

“It’s a secret,” Loreza whispers giggling, and you drop to your knees, seeing the weak link in the chain with the youngest.

“What’s the secret, my sweet Dove?” You twirl her dark curls behind her ear, and she leans into your hold, reaching out to hug you.

“Papa, said we couldn’t tell,” she whispers in your ear, and the smile breaks out across your face. “We caught him in the kitchen eating the tarts, and he shared one with us. He made us promise not to tell.” You giggle and hold her tighter to your chest, standing with her in your arms, her legs wrapping around you like a monkey.

“Loreza! Papa told us not to tell!” Obella scolds, and you look over at Ellaria with a grin.

“It seems like Papa has been getting into my sweets; what shall we do to him? I think he will need to be punished for getting into things he shouldn’t be.” You let Loreza down with a kiss on her head, and Ellaria giggles and winks at you.

“Yes, I think a punishment is in order; why don’t you go find him? He is in the training yards with the girls.” You nod and go over to grab your shawl and wrap it around your shoulders, the rain outside sending a slight chill through the palace. Obella holds your dress and pulls you down to her level, “what’s wrong, my darling?”

“Please, don’t tell Papa we said anything. We don’t want him to be angry with us,” her tiny voice shakes and she looks close to tears.

You wrap her in a big hug, “Don’t worry, my darling, your secret is safe with me.” She nods, hugging your neck tighter, which you eagerly return. Each day the girls get older, and one day, they won’t want hugs and cuddles; you must take advantage of it as long as you can. You let go and rise, leaning down to kiss Ellaria gently, smiling when she takes your bottom lip between her teeth and pulls.

“Make him pay Little Sparrow, he must know how angry you are with him. Don’t let him persuade you away with his flowery words and gentle touch.” You give her another quick kiss and a smile walking over to the training fields.

You follow the sounds of grunts and groans, watching from the upper deck at the fighters below. Nym and Obara spar in the center a deadly and delicate dance of quick footwork and fists. “Dive Nym!” Oberyn shouts from the corner, “you must be ready to anticipate her every move. Don’t let the fact that she is your sister distract you from your goal.”

Nym watches Obara closely as she circles her like a predator viewing its prey. “Now,” Oberyn coaches, “strike!” You hold your breath as Nym gets a grip on her sister and swings her to the ground, her hands coming out to brace on either side of her head, wrists pinned down. “GOOD! Well done!” he claps his hands together and walks over to the table to drink a sip of wine and pops a few berries into his mouth.

You clap your hands together, and all three pairs of eyes slowly look up to watch you leaning over the railing. “Well done, girls! You have become such fearsome warriors; you bring such glory to your family, my loves.” They smile at you and mumble, “Thank you, mama”, under their breath, both shy with the praise.

“What about me, Little Sparrow?” Oberyn shouts up at you with a smile, “no compliments for the one who trains them? You glare down at him, and his smile drops, a worried expression growing on his face.

“You are in trouble, Oberyn Martell,” he freezes, his eyes widening; you only used his name when you were cross with him. “I know your secret, and I am here to make you pay.”

“And what pray tell, is this indiscretion I’ve committed, my love?” The girls look between the two of you and quickly realize this is something they don’t want to miss. It takes everything you have not to giggle when they walk over to the table and grab a glass of wine and watch between the two of you like a drama at the theater.

“It would seem that the lemon tarts I’ve spent hours baking are all gone. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” To his credit, he does look concerned for a moment before he slips on that charming smile, the one you can’t possibly resist.

He gives a nervous chuckle and rubs the back of his head, “I wouldn’t know anything about that Little Sparrow; maybe some snakes got into the kitchen and took off with your treats. Come down here, and we can talk about it further.” He flicks his wrist down to the spot in front of him, and you scoff.

“You’ll have to make me.”

“Oh, is that so?” You nod, and he sighs, removing his outer coat and leaving him shirtless; the golden chain around his neck glistens, his sun-kissed skin making you weak. The girls quickly stand, taking their cups and leave out the side door. “If you won’t come to me, then I guess I will need to come to you.” He walks over to the large column and begins to scale the wall, hands intertwined in the wild ivy growing around the stone.

“Are you out of your mind?!” you step closer to the column, reaching a hand out for him.

He stops before your outstretched hand and puts a hand to his chest with a dramatic sigh, “my Little Sparrow, love of my life, please forgive me for eating your delicious lemon tarts. They were positively perfect; I couldn’t resist.”

You put your hands on your hips knowing precisely what he’s doing. “Are you doing something rather dangerous so that I won’t be cross with you anymore?” He grins, and you scoff, “you’re insane; I should have married the baker’s son. Then I could have had lemon tarts, and a sane man warm my bed every night!” You yelp as he swings a leg over the banister and turn, running down the hall, Oberyn hot on your heels.

You turn the corner and barrel past servents who giggle as you make your way back in the direction of Ellaria and the girls. The youngest giggle when you scream around the corner, coming to stand behind Ellaria. Oberyn grasps the table and fakes left and right, trying to anticipate your every move. “Papa!” Loreza shouts, watching, “what are you doing?”

He laughs, reaching for you as you move out from behind Ellaria and try to sneak past him. “It doesn’t seem like your quest has been successful, Sparrow,” Ellaria teases, looking up at you from her book. “It seems like our Prince has the upper hand right now.” You try to run past him, but he grabs you with a shriek and tosses you over his shoulder.

“I’m sorry little ones, but Mama thought it was a good idea to tease Papa.” You hit his back, and he slaps your ass.

“What did Mama tease you about?” Ellaria smiles behind the hand covering her mouth, and you try to look around him to flip her the bird.

“She said she wished she’d married someone else besides Papa. Can you believe that, my little Princesses?” You can’t see the girls, but their shrieks of laughter make you smile.

“That’s silly!” Dorea jumps up and down, “Papa is the best man there is!”

You can hear the smile in his voice, “thank you, Princess Dorea, now Papa has to go and remind Mama why she married him, and not,” his voice drops an octave, “some baker’s son.” He turns and you lift your head, reaching a hand out to Ellaria, who shakes her head with a laugh.

“See you later, my love,” she shouts with a wave, the little girls waving goodbye as they jump around and giggle.

There is not much dignity when you’re carried over your lover’s shoulder to be punished, and you try to avoid eye contact with everyone you pass—sighing in relief when the doors to your chamber close behind him, yelping as he tosses you on the bed. Oberyn stands above you, still shirtless, still handsome, but with a darkened glint in his eyes.

He reaches out for you and quickly undresses you, peering down at you with a hunger that no lemon tart would satisfy. He spreads your legs, his big hands sliding up your thighs. “What was it you said, Little Sparrow?” your breath catches as he settles himself before your juicy cunt, “you should have married the baker’s son, so you could have all the lemon tarts you wanted an a-” he draws one thick finger through your folds. “-a sane man warm your bed? Let me remind you what that baker’s son could not do for you, my love.”

He spends the next several hours reminding you why you chose to be with him over all others. His devotion to your body is unmatched as he makes you cum with his tongue, fingers, cock, and all over your chambers. There’s a pleasant ache between your legs, and the perspiration glows on your skin. The moonlight streams through the open window. Oberyn’s weight is comfortable as his arm is slung across your waist, lips kissing a trail down your shoulder and back up to your ear. “I think we broke our record,” he teases, sucking your ear lobe into his warm mouth.

You turn and smile, giving him a languid kiss, “yes, you seemed to be quite motivated.”

“Can you blame me?” he kisses the end of your nose, “you told me you wished to marry another. You’re mine; I needed to prove it.” You giggle and kiss him again, both of you turning when the door swings open. Ellaria walks inside, and you are struck with how gorgeous she is, her breasts spilling over the edges of her dress like a delicious wrapped present.

“I have a gift for you,” she smiles, presenting a plate from behind her back, a single lemon tart in the center. “The girls and I have been working for hours, trying to get it just right.”

You clap your hands, not caring that the sheet slips down your body as you coo in delight. “I can’t wait to taste it!” She grins and hands you the dish, your mouth watering as she strips out of her clothes and pulls the sheet away. Her necklace and bracelets click as she spreads your legs and settles between them, Oberyn reaching a hand out to palm your breast. You take a bite of the tart and moan at the perfect combination of tart and sweet, but the moans quickly turn to something else as Ellaria licks your pussy.

“Wh-what are you d-doing?” you stutter the crumbs from the tart sprinkling down your chest, Oberyn eagerly surging forward to lick and suck them from your skin.

“Our Prince got to remind you why you chose him, but I wanted to make sure you truly know what you would be missing if you married that Baker’s son. See, I even made you lemon tarts,” she smiles before resuming her kitten licks on your clit, her nails trailing over your hips.

And fuck, do you never forget.

Taglist: @chicken-ona-stick @agirllovespancakes @ghostwiththemostbitch @the-purity-pen @paintballkid711 @wasicskosgirl @fantasticcopeaglepasta @sarahjkl82-blog @boxdyeblonde @rosiefridayrogersunday @yeah-seems-legit @mimimi-stuff @ladyblogger-margie @memyselfandellasworld @peterhollandkait @itspdameronthings @emmy626 @luv-nd-serenity @randomness501 @littlebopper96 @alexmarie29 @hell-is-my-second-home666 @thisshipwillsail316 @madslorian @no-droids-on-sunday @glixxr @sfr99 @pedro-pastel @we-can-be-himbos @sleep-tight1 @sarhabee @its--fandom--darling @im-an-adult-ish @princess76179 @demoncrypt1066 @jedi-mando @idreamofboobear @aerolanya @rebelliouscat @veracruz-djarin @marvelprincess1994 @thirstworldproblemss @spacelatinoss @martellthemandalor @kesskirata @waatermelon-sugaar @jitterbugs927 @helga1031 @greeneyedblondie44 @mamacitapascal @oldstuffnewstuff @yespolkadotkitty @heythere-mel @justanotherblonde23 @artsymaddie @anetteaneta @aellynera @lucifer- @houseofthirst @phoenixhalliwell @lunarthoughts

Pedro Pascal Taglist: @lycheemi @purplepascal042 @poubxlle @dreamer-101 @thewayofthemandalorian @omlwhatamidoinghere @linkpk88 @josepedropascal @mrschiltoncat @mrsparknuts @zannemes @xjaywritesx @mandocrest @petersunderoos96 @notabotiswear @mando-amando @lv7867 @mudhorn-djarin19 @ka-x-in @sleep-tight1 @freeshavocadoooo @dinner-djarin @mssbridgerton @prideandpascal @theflightytemptressadventure @notabotiswear @Pintsizemama @pascal-rascal424 @allmahfeels @the-ginger-hedge-witch @soyelfuegoquearde @northernpunk @clydesducktape @a-skov @darnitdraco @spideysimpossiblegirl @jediknight122

Oberyn Martell Taglist: @theatricalbride @meshlamando @seasonschange-butpeopledont @blufanfictionthings @queenbbarnes @talesfromtheguild @rpcvliz @evyiione @browneyes-djarin @lips-for-you @midnightzonzz

#Oberyn Martell #Ellaria Sand #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #Oberyn Martell x reader #Ellaria Sand x reader #Oberyn Martell x reader x Ellaria Sand #Little Sparrow #Female Reader #Game of Thrones

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infernalrevenge · 3 years ago

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Nerves to the Nines

Fandom: Resident Evil 8: Village

Pairing: Alcina Dimitrescu x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Rating: T (for negative self-talk in some parts)

Summary: Reader is attending the Gathering of Lords with Alcina and is too nervous to even dress themself properly. Luckily, their lover is here to save the day.

Notes: I have no idea if Alcina may be OOC here, just know that I love the thought of very powerful and intimidating people being soft and protective only for those they love, and that's partly what spawned this thing. That, and the idea of how intimate it is to have your significant other help you get dressed for an important event (that I completely made up for the sake of this fic.)

Also thank you so much for 50 followers :D May not be a big number, but it's more than I expected when I started writing here a few months ago haha

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Two hours to go before the Gathering of Lords.

You went through the mental checklist as you assessed yourself in the mirror. Hair done, make-up done, clothes... well, most of them were on.

You wanted to dress to impress, but not stand out either. A black button up rested on your frame and loose wide-legged pants to match, where your cream-colored shoes peeked out from the bottom. The burgundy blazer you were going to wear over it was hung in front of your closet, and the white rose you would pin onto the lapel sat on the vanity.

It was meant to be an inverse of Alcina's usual attire. She was going to bring a burgundy shawl as well to complement the outfit. Daniela said it would look cute.

But right now, the idea of wearing an extra layer was unwanted. You were too warm right now, and the last thing you wanted was to sweat through your clothes. Everything had to be perfect -- you had to be perfect, lest you sully the "good name of House Dimitrescu" in front of your lover's siblings, and Mother Miranda.

You knew how important tonight was to Alcina, and she wanted you to be a part of it all. She was looking forward to it as much as you and the girls were; when Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela were told they could come, they immediately squealed and started chattering away with you about what they were going to do, what to wear, what you were going to wear, and seemed to already have everything planned in their heads. Their excitement rubbed off on you for the rest of the week, and the happy jitters only got more intense with every passing day.

But the closer the time got to leaving for the Gathering, the more those jitters made you feel like throwing up.

You sat in front of the mirror and idly fiddled with your unbuttoned sleeve cuff, feeling the nerves of tonight bundling up in your chest. One leg bounced under the table impatiently; you had to get the energy out somehow.

You want to go, you reminded yourself. You wanted to go. You still want to go... right? You had been looking forward to this all week, of course you want to go. Just pull yourself together. You took in a deep breath and clapped your hands together.

Wait, when did they get so sweaty? If you tried to shake anyone's hand, they'd be weirded out and disgusted. How can you get it to stop? This is so stupid, why are you worried about sweaty hands all of a sudden?! Control yourself, idiot! This was not the time to worry about such trivial matters, but why did it feel like your heart was about to burst out of your chest? It's going so fast, you started to wonder what it could be running from.

This was a mistake, you shouldn't go. You'll just embarrass yourself, and Alcina, and you can't handle that kind of pressure. The scrutiny you'll be under would be crushing, you could practically feel the air getting sucked out of you. This was a mistake, this was a mistake.

You undid the buttons on your shirt, ready to take it off. Just say you don't feel well, that's a good enough excuse. This was a mistake, this was a mistake--

"Y/N, are you alright?" You heard her voice in your room, and she had already ducked inside by the time you turned around. You sucked in a sharp breath.

I'm not feeling well, I think I should stay home.

The lie you had concocted got stuck in your throat as you looked up into her golden eyes, clearly concerned. You didn't want to worry her. You wanted to go. You did.

Instead, you swallowed it and tried to keep your voice steady, "Yeah, yes. I'm just, I'm having a bit of trouble with..."

You looked down at your fully opened shirt, gulping again. "I can't..." Why won't your hands stop shaking?

"What's wrong, my love?"

Alcina was standing at full height, and to any other person, having her look down at you like this might have felt condescending -- an effort to exert power and establish authority. But somehow, being under her shadow in what had felt like a bright room... it was comforting. Just to know she was there, physically. To know that she saw you as you were at the moment, trying to be brave.

"I'm just... nervous, that's all," you finally managed to admit, and it felt like a weight had just been lifted off your shoulders. You relaxed only a fraction though, remembering what the night was going to bring.

In about an hour and a half.

She sat down on your bed, her knees tucked in a bit considering its height. "Perhaps if we talk, you can settle your nerves." She presented the space in front of her, as if she knew you couldn't bring yourself to sit at the moment.

You started rolling the button on your cuff between your fingers, your arm close to your chest like you were trying to protect yourself. From what, you weren't sure.

"What are you nervous about?" she spoke softly, quite a contrast from the usual commanding tone she took on when she spoke to almost everyone else. "Are you worried about not looking right? Because I assure you, darling, you look wonderful -- you deserve nothing less than the best."

"No, I... well it was your idea for us to dress like this, so no, that's not... what I'm worried about." You looked up from under your lashes. Her eyes were still focused on you. You wanted to squirm, and your next words came out softer than you wanted them to.

"I just... don't wanna mess up."

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite hear you." If you were any other person, she might have lost her temper at your mumbling. You almost flinched at the thought, but you knew she would never. Not with you.

"I-I don't want to mess up." You said a little louder as you folded your hands, one holding onto the other wrist. "You know, like, in front of your siblings, in front of... Mother Miranda... I'm afraid of embarrassing myself in front of them."

She frowned and leaned forward, "What could you possibly do that would embarrass me?"

You shrugged, wanting to shrink in on yourself. "I don't know, I might say something weird or do something that'll seem off, or just, I'm not sure. Something's probably gonna go wrong. Maybe even being myself is embarrassing enough," you joked.

"Darling, you are not embarrassing," she assured. You didn't know if she knew that you meant it as a joke, but she said it with such sincerity that it pulled some of that weight off you once more. It brought a small smile to your face.

"Do you not want to go anymore?" she asked worriedly, and you snapped your head up at that.

"No, I want to!" You answered so fast that Alcina seemed surprised but definitely not displeased

"I'm excited to go, I really am. I'm just not sure if I'm, like, ready to face the others. I wanna go, but I don't know, I can't explain it, I just don't want things to go badly because it'll reflect on you and your daughters and I know how much you want to be in Mother Miranda's favor so I--"

She took your wrist without a word, so gentle in her handling that you barely noticed it at first, and you trailed off. Her fingers fixed up your loosened cuff -- oh, right. Any more stubborn fiddling with it and you would've taken the button right off its threads. She did the same with the other cuff, a calm yet unreadable expression on her painted face.

When she finished, she gently smoothed your hair down, traced your jawline with a finger and tilted your chin up to look at her. "If you're worried about what everyone else would think, I understand. But you are my significant other, my lover. I trust that you'll be wonderful, so know that at least one person there believes in you."

It felt like you were really seeing her for the first time that night, looking so proud when she talked about you. She took the opportunity to fix the rest of your outfit, buttoning up your shirt once more, and kept talking to ease your mind.

"Don't ever doubt me, Y/N, because I've seen you at both your best and your worst, and your best is more than enough for tonight. If they can't see that, then it's their loss, not yours."

You could feel her words physically calming you, heartbeat steadying as you saw the loving gleam in her eyes.

The lady sauntered over to your closet, taking your blazer and handing it over to you. "Now, I believe you're missing a piece, my dear." You hadn't even noticed until then that she was already wearing her shawl. A gentle smile finally broke through your facade as you pulled it on in front of the mirror.

Alcina stood behind, laying her hands on your shoulders when you seemed satisfied. "A perfect match," she cooed, leaning down to face you, so close that you could feel her breath against the shell of your ear. "Wouldn't you say?" You could feel your heart racing again, but it wasn't from any nerves this time.

But before anything could be done about it, the moment was interrupted by multiple knocks on the door, followed by a loud thud. "Mother, Y/N, we're ready!" Bela called out from the other side, fussing over her sisters immediately afterwards. "May we come in?"

Alcina raised an eyebrow at you, a smirk playing on her lips. "Well? We shouldn't keep them waiting."

You felt loosened up for the first time that night, ready to face anything with Alcina by your side. You pinned the rose in place and took one last glance in the mirror. "We could always be fashionably late."

#alcina dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #gender neutral reader #gn!reader #resident evil #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #re8

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honeymoonjin · 4 years ago

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pairing: jimin x reader || genre: smut, 18+ || word count: 3.8k

warnings: sexually explicit content, generally dom!jimin, fingering, multiple orgasms, kinda cum eating, unprotected sex, jimin exploring his gender identity a wee bit with feminine presenting clothing, jimin getting called pretty as he deserves, creampie, bondage (wrists tied)

summary: jimin sees you doing your laundry and decides to make it a little more exciting.

A/N: so here’s the deal i blame d2 filter jimin fully for this reappearance, it’s a one-off, i’m not coming back i’m just having a sexuality crisis over park jimin right now and i need you all to understand how much i’m suffering. this is technically in the tgm universe (though separate from the plot, kinda a slice of life/oneshot kinda deal) but it can totally function as a standalone

“Am I interrupting something?”

You jump in place when the sudden voice - so close to your ear that you can feel the warm exhale - is paired with a hand curving around the dip of your waist.

“I guess you are,” you reply lightly, even as your heart races.

Lips press chastely against your ear, Jimin’s lips, as he lets out a curious hum. “I bet I can make it more interesting,” he lilts, fingers pressing into the soft skin of your stomach. “Hm? Doing some chores, little mouse?”

Even as arousal begins to stir in your belly at his words and the heat of his body behind you, you sigh at the pile of clean clothes strewn in a heap on the end of your bed. “Just laundry,” you murmur redundantly, hooking your finger on a pair of jeans, slightly stiff from the wash.

“How boring,” he teases, making your breath hitch with a single playful nip to your earlobe. Snaking his other hand around your waist so that you’re pinned to him completely, he slowly sways you back and forth, the movement belying a hardness pressed to your lower back. “But look at all these clothes, little mouse; which one is your favourite?”

“Am I going to put on a show?” you question coquettishly, reaching an arm arm so that your hand rests on the nape of his neck, nails scraping his scalp lightly.

He huffs out an airy laugh through his nose, a hand slipping onto your front. It slides up under your shirt, magma-hot, and you feel the texture of his fingertips as they run over your sensitive skin, every touch that ventures too close to your nipples making you shiver. “Pick something out for me, baby. Something pretty.”

The air inside your lungs is laced with excitement, every breath only deepening the hot coil of arousal in your stomach. Jimin drops his arm again to hang low over your hips so that you can bend over, and even as you mourn the loss of his fingers on you, you arch your back and press into him. The new angle has your clothed pussy snug over where his cock strains in his pants, and your mind goes hazy as you struggle to focus on the pieces of clothing in front of you.

With one hand propped up on the mattress to keep you from buckling down - though you doubt he’d mind all that much - the other sifts through pants and jackets, sweaters and odd socks, until a flash of red catches your eye.

Tugging it out, you straighten up and use a hand on each strap so that the wine-red lace bodysuit is put on display. Jimin hums in approval before his hands go slack, freeing you to turn around and face him.

The sight you’re greeted with takes your breath away. Black slacks and a silken black shirt with the sleeves rolled up outline his lithe figure, while his eyelids have been adorned with a soft rosy pink, lips pearlescent. He’s always been strikingly beautiful, but there’s an almost feminine grace to his look that has you wanting to kiss the gloss right off his pillowed lips.

He quirks his brow at your stare, lips twitching. With a graceful movement, he reaches deftly around to take the lingerie from your hand, eyes not leaving yours for a second.

Your hands lift to the hem of your shirt, but his free one intercepts them, tugs them higher.

“Why don’t you undo my buttons first, little mouse?” he requests, his voice leaving no room for protest, though it stays warm and honeyed. Jimin’s power isn’t in volume or glares or muscle. It comes from within, an aura that has your knees weak and your panties wet. You fumble with the top button, wanting so badly to please him.

Bit by bit, the fabric parts down his chest, falling off his shoulders and getting hooked on his elbows. Black silk hangs slack from his forearms like a shawl as he guides your hands lower still, until you’re undoing his pants too.

He does all this with the silent confidence of a dom entirely in control, and as the only sounds in the room are the teeth of the zipper and your own shaky breaths, you feel that submissive headspace fill your mind like a thick fog, leaving no room for thoughts that don’t involve Jimin.

You don’t mind that, though. Not when his pants drop to the floor, revealing nothing underneath. Not when you catch a glimpse of his gorgeous cock, straining upwards and shiny with precum. And not when your chin is being tipped upwards and his lips are slanting across yours, making you lose every thought entirely.

With eyes slipped shut in bliss, you feel drunk on the euphoria of his embrace, heart thudding in your chest with every slight movement. He tastes like peaches, you muse, smells like it too as if that gloss was flavoured especially. Languid but intentional, his tongue presses between your lips and devours you from the inside, pure electric. Your body feels lighter and freer with each stroke, his teeth catching and nipping. It’s not until you feel a sudden bolt of stimulation to one of your nipples that you realise you feel so airy because he’s been undressing you as you kiss.

Head swimming, your body gives no resistance when he walks you forward, your knees buckling on the edge of the mattress and your bare back laying across the haphazard pile of clean clothes.

You crane your neck, looking him over as he stands between your dangling legs. With lips swollen and shiny with spit instead of gloss, and his cock a pretty rosy shade, he lets the shirt hanging off his elbows finally shed to the ground, leaving him just as bare as you are. He looks ethereal in a way you’ve never seen as much before, positively glowing, and it takes your breath away.

“Close your eyes,” he commands sweetly, making you tremble as he runs a single finger up your inner thigh.

You follow his instructions, legs parted slightly as you anticipate the textured drag of lace, but nothing comes. After a few moments, you sigh out into the silent room, back arching off the bed in neglect. “Minnie,” you breathe, and Jimin shushes you gently, running a broad hand up your side.

“Almost finished, little mouse,” he chimes, and a mere moment later you can hear the smile in his voice when he instructs you to open your eyes again.

The sight that greets you has you breathless, lightheaded. Even as your mind overheats trying to process the image in front of you, Jimin is already lifting his knees onto the bed, straddling you.

You feel the drag of lace now, rubbing against your core as it stretches taut over Jimin’s cock. The fabric is formfitting on you; on Jimin, it’s sinful. Looking like temptation itself, Jimin arches his torso so that the ribbon at the waist accentuates his slender frame, hints of two dusky nipples poking out from behind the thin material. Instead of covering his back, the two sections of lace that cover his chest lead to wide ribbons which he has tied up and around his neck, letting the long ends dangle onto you once he bends down.

“Tell me, Y/n,” he breathes out, sultry and rich with desire, “do I look pretty?”

Every shift of his body above you causes the textured fabric to rub over your clit, and you whimper as his fingers play almost absentmindedly at your nipples, stroking and flicking without any real pattern. You can barely think, but you force your mind to focus in on the way he sucks his lower lip into his mouth, teeth poking out just slightly to pin the flesh.

“So pretty, Jimin,” you praise earnestly, “look so good, holy shit.”

His eyelids flutter upon hearing your words, and he muffles his own moan with your lips, kissing you more frantically now, pressing his chest to yours. “I feel good,” he confesses between nips and licks, pulling back onto to gasp for air. “God, Y/n, I wanna fuck you like this. My little mouse.”

“Fuck, Minnie.” Your skin is on fire but you reach around to pull him closer, nails catching on his bared shoulder blades. “Take me, I’m yours.” Your voice breaks into a strangled moan when fingers plunge inside you, crooking up to find your g-spot without hesitation.

At this point, Jimin knows you inside and out perhaps even better than yourself, and you lay back as he scissors two digits so carefully. Even in the height of his arousal - now straddling your thighs, his hips rut shudderingly against your thighs, the head of his cock beginning to escape the narrow band of lace - he’s wary not to treat you too roughly, his thumb finding your clit so that the hot snaking arousal never fades for a second.

“Muh-more, Jimin, I- ungh.” Your thighs tense around his wrist when he fits a third finger in, but he just uses your ever-growing wetness to fuck you faster, the only burn being so pleasurable it takes your breath right out of your chest. “I’m ready, please fuck me,” you whine, unable to even rock your hips up with the way his weight rests on your upper legs.

But he doesn’t stop, moaning so beautifully that it almost sounds like he’s the one in your shoes, bending down to press slack kisses to your stomach, tongue even slipping out to run a line over the curve of your hipbone. The pressure inside you rises and rises and rises until you’re fisting the sheets desperately. Unable to catch your breath, you writhe beneath him and feel an orgasm swiftly approaching.

Wary that of Jimin’s mean dom streak that sometimes caught you off guard, you hold back the hope of release until it’s already rocking through you like a tsunami. The restriction of your lower half mixed with the visual stimulation of a dollified Jimin sucking hickies just below your belly button only send the pleasure higher, until you can’t even stop yourself from convulsing, shoulders lifting off the bed to curl into yourself where you’re pinned down.

His fingers don’t slow down until you’re gripping onto his forearm for dear life, shivering beneath him. Panting himself, he rolls onto his back beside you with his eyes lidded, brushing his fingers over his lips until they’re coated with your slick, just as shiny as the pearly lip gloss he came in with.

You let out an exhausted chuckle at the sight, your core already stirring in excitement at the obscene sight. “You’re gonna be the death of me, Park Jimin,” you quip, but it’s not long before your eyes drop to his cock, still painfully hard and soaking a patch in the red lace. The fingers of his other hand lazily play at the head, spreading the precum that continues to drip from it. Without even really intending, your own hand snakes over his lean stomach to grip the base of him, stroking slowly as he sighs out his pleasure.

For a few moments, he just licks and sucks at his own lips, abs and thighs tensing as he lets you jerk him off unhurried. He looks so beautiful, hair billowed out like a vibrant halo around his sex-sweetened face. The halter ribbon - tied too loosely in his quick change - slips down and bares his shoulders and upper chest, exposing his nipples to the cool air of your bedroom.

Feeling a little self-satisfied and in the mood for mischief, you take advantage of his shut eyes to sit up on your side, reach out and drag your nails over one. Like a startled cat, he hisses and goes stiff, one hand locking around your wrist like iron. When his eyes open, they’re molten with lust and ire, a brow twitching.

Your heart quickens at the way he sits up and fixes you with a harsh glare, bodysuit riding lower down his torso with the weight of the ribbon, which he uses his free hand to quickly tug out of the loops.

“Jimin-” you start, but his sharp and assured movements have any protests dying on your tongue. He grabs your free hand and quickly begins binding them together in front of you by the wrists, not saying a word even as four lines of pink appear over his chest.

Only once you’re bound and panting does he speak again, standing to slowly and meaningfully strip the lace bodysuit off himself. “If you’re going to act like a brat, little mouse, I’ll fuck you like a brat,” he declares. “And bad girls have to wait.”

Fighting the urge to bury your tied hands between your cum-soaked thighs, you bite down hard on your lip and look up at him. Not even sparing you a glance - no doubt intentionally - Jimin reaches around you and picks up a tank top off the pile on your bed.

You watch, disbelievingly, as Jimin carefully and painstakingly slowly folds the top in quarters, placing it to the side. In no hurry, even as his cock hangs heavy between his legs, he takes every item of clean (though that’s now debatable) clothing and folds it for you, setting up a tidy pile up by your pillow.

At one point, you tilt your hips downward in an attempt to rut against the duvet, but a single sharp glare and raised eyebrow from Jimin stops you in your tracks. “Be patient,” he chastises you, “you should thank me for doing this for you. I’m sure it would take you a lot longer with your hands bound like that.”

You send him a pouty scowl, but keep quiet, knowing your best bet to finally get fucked is to just let him finish on his own time. He lets out a bemused huff and returns to his task, paying about as much attention to you as he would a pet.

Your forced patience just about runs out by the time he reaches the last of the heap. Instead of folding the final item, however, he holds it out in front of him thoughtfully. A satin dress, royal purple and lush with gathered hems. It was enough of a cocktail dress that it always felt too formal to wear around the house, and you’d yet to find the right opportunity to wear it on one of your rare excursions. Nevertheless, you’d decided to wash it in the hopes that it would inspire you to wear it. Now, it seems someone is going to beat you to the punch.

“This,” Jimin announces in a voice so low it’s nearly whispered, pulling it flush against him to feel the cool material on his skin, “I’m going to fuck you in this, little mouse.”

Almost out of your mind with arousal, your tongue is loosened and the words spill out easily. “You’ll look so pretty, Minnie, please put it on. Wanna see you fuck me pretty.”

Jimin’s chest heaves once, his fingers curling in the material before he’s lifting it swiftly over his head. The torso is a little tight going over his shoulders, but there’s plenty of give in the skirt and bust, and when his head pokes through it falls to his thighs so beautifully.

Looking more lush and exotic than a princess, Jimin runs his hands over himself, down his chest, stomach, hips and thighs. With lidded eyes, he smiles at the way it feels, before turning the full heat of his gaze to you.

“On your back,” he commands. “I want you to see me while I’m ruining you.”

You collapse back onto the now-flat bed almost immediately, legs parting without shame as your tied hands rest on your chest. He mounts you with the lithe grace of a panther, looking just as predatorial. The hem of the dress rides up his thighs with every movement, bunching around his ass, but it just saves him time in lining his cock up at your entrance, pausing for a moment to slick himself up before he snaps his hips forward with a satisfied growl.

The sudden penetration has you jerking automatically, but a moan is quick to follow. Already relaxed and soaking wet from your earlier orgasm, there’s nothing your pussy wants more right now than to be filled to the brim, and Jimin is certainly happy to oblige. Whining at his stillness, you clench around him and push your head back onto the duvet.

“Fuck, like that,” he mutters mindlessly, hands gripping the flesh of your ass to hold you against him. Releasing his grip onto to smack you, the punctuated noise sets him into gear, and before long he’s reaching a pace that leaves you gasping for air.

Still sensitive, you let out broken cries at the feeling, but he shows no mercy. The heat of his cock inside you and the cool of the satin on the backs of your thighs as he holds them up has your mind going hazy, and you let yourself slip deeper into that fuzzy headspace.

Things feel so much better when the only thoughts in your mind are Jimin, pretty Jimin, beautiful Jimin who takes you apart so thoroughly. Your whole body rocks up and down with the power behind his thrusts, but you’re content to ride the movements, focusing on his presence inside you.

“Fu-fuck,” Jimin gasps, “I won’t last long like this. Open your eyes, please, l-look at me.”

You had barely realised you’d closed them, but you blearily follow his instructions and blink up at him. His hair is heavy with sweat, his smoky eyes even more blurred, lips so swollen and beautiful. And the dress, the dress that looks better on him than it ever could you. “So pretty for me, Minnie,” you praise, heaving for air to propel your words, “fucking me so good, I’m close again already.”

Just saying the words aloud makes your statement even more true. You clench down tightly as he shifts angles slightly, his cock dragging against the base of your clit with every stroke. You begin to babble, curses and praises alike dripping from your lips like the saliva you can’t quite swallow back. He’s fucking you dumb, looking like a temptress as he fucks you into thoughtlessness, and before you know it you’re arching off the bed violently with your second orgasm.

This one is somehow more powerful than the first, even more so when Jimin cries out and joins you in that heady ecstasy. Tears prick at your eyes and wet your temples, but your lips stretch into a grin as you feel pleasure heat every single particle in your body.

Jimin’s spilled inside you, is still spilling inside you as he rocks his hips deeply and presses slack-jawed kisses into the crook of your neck, and the feeling has you trembling long after the aftershocks of your orgasm subside.

He recovers before you do, and the pressure around your wrists lifts, until the ribbon falls away entirely and his fingers massage the joints carefully. Still inside you, you can hear him suck in breaths through his teeth when you throb around him, but he makes no move to pull out. Rather, enjoying the closeness, he carefully grips your hip and tips you onto your side so that he can lie with you without lying on you.

You sigh at the sweet feeling of his lips roving over your neck, but as soon as the prickles of clarity return to you, you’re lifting his chin to join his mouth to yours.

Both of you are too tired to kiss properly, but you slowly move your mouth against him, wanting to taste him to the fullest. You stay like that, legs entwined, noses bumping, until sleep pulls at your consciousness.

Feeling Jimin’s face go still and his breathing even out, your heart warms with pure, deepset content. It requires all of your remaining energy, but you force your eyes open again to watch his expression, so sweet and angelic. Even without the dress, even without the makeup or the jewellery. “So beautiful,” you murmur, and finally let yourself sink under.

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