hi, hi! could I ask for pt 2 of the twst "what to expect when your lab experiment drinks formula," I just thought it was rlly cute!☺ you can do any sort of characters, I don't mind!
What to Expect When your Lab Experiment Drinks Formula Pt. 2
Hihi! Actually, I wrote that scenario for all the characters in twst I'm writing for right now (I'm new to the fandom), so I've gone ahead and made this into a followup on how they're doing as parents, hope you don't mind! Thanks the ask!
Warnings: Mild Chap 7 spoiler (Lilia), Rook & Floyd want so many kids your house is going to look like the 100 baby sims challenge.
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Part one! Rook Hunt! Part Two (here), Part Three!
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Malleus Draconia
Malleus is running wild with the new heir. As much as he loves you, so much of his time is occupied by playing with his baby that you don't even see him around as often as you used to.
Your new baby is named Ormr, an ancient name directly meaning 'dragon'. Malleus pouted for a bit that it didn't start with 'Mal' but you assured him that it could be a great fresh start before the Draconia family ran out of names.
While you were still a bit disoriented by the strange circumstances, you were adjusting just fine to being a parent. Your little one kept you on your toes, breathing fire onto your homework when you weren't giving them enough attention and flying away with your food when Malleus taught them how to fly short distances.
Get out the broom. There's a dragon baby with a pb&j on the ceiling.
Malleus' love of your child surprised you a bit. Though you had known that he had technically set up the entire creation of the child, you never expected for Malleus to take so strongly to the little dragon fae.
To be fair, the entirety of Briar Valley seemed to rejoice at the news of your little one, so you supposed that your child was more important than it would be to a normal family. This was the continuation of his bloodline, without posing any risk of losing you, his favorite Child of man.
It was perfect, a blissful life together.
Malleus is constantly supportive of you and works hard to be both a father and a partner. He never fails to make your family feel loved and connected, even in trying times.
Rook Hunt
Rook's baby is... Rook's baby.
The little creature is mischievous, even for its young age.
It may not be able to crawl, but provided anything of importance is in its general vicinity, it will be swiped, hidden, or destroyed with an innocent giggle.
Rook manages the child much better than you. Although you love your child to death, they seem to have inherited Rook's predatory mind in their entirety, and it makes Rook far more equipped to handle the baby's demeanor.
When you look away, you'll most certainly be hit with the first thing in reach of your little one. You blame Rook for this, who reveled in showing them documentaries on hunting through the ages from birth.
Soon, it's more complex weapons. Sharp rocks from your trip outside to play have somehow become entrapped in a very deliberately tangled slinky and thrown at the back of your head.
You know it's all in good fun between Rook & your little one, but your baby will be as skilled a hunter as Rook someday. He was not wrong to call your child his little hunter from the moment it fell into your arms.
Rook wants a large family, so you'd better be prepared for lots of little predators running around the house. Good luck trying to keep them from attempting to murder each other.
Extra: Rook is the type to remember that recipe to a tee. If you so much as mention having another child, ten more are going to show up the next day. Honestly he's waiting for you to slip up and mention it. He's absolutely in love with your family, and would be overjoyed to expand it. Best of luck to you.
Floyd Leech
As soon as you were asleep that night, little child snug in a makeshift bassinet next to you, Floyd was already sneaking out to create more children.
You woke up to six more on the bed with you, one of which woke you up directly by biting you for attention.
Overall you've had much trouble managing all the little literal ankle biters. If it weren't for the liberal help from Jade, Grim and Ace, you would not be able to manage all seven.
However, this does not stop you from loving them entirely. The babies love you to death, and you're extremely bonded to them as well. When you and Floyd fight, there's suddenly seven growling creatures lined up behind you, at the ready to attack.
Despite being 110% like Floyd, they are very certain in their favoritism. Two of your children refuse to have him nearby at all.
He claims it breaks his heart, but you catch him praising your little ones with frozen grapes and soda to reinforce their bond with you.
Definitely not what a baby should be fed but when you said they couldn't eat seafood he switched gears to 'land food', and would take no further criticisms.
The best times are cuddle nights. Twice a week, all of you cuddle up in your Ramshackle dorm room and cozy up to a movie and snacks. This continues until well into their childhoods let's be honest. It becomes a Leech family tradition.
Sebek Zigvolt
"Human! Get it! GET IT!!!"
Your baby is very adventurous.... or something close to it.
Always tumbling off furniture and rolling off changing tables, or falling down for some reason or other.
You can have ten sets of eyes on this child and it does not matter, this baby will stubbornly look into your eyes and throw itself off the couch.
There's so much chaos, constantly, when it comes to little baby Zigvolt.
Sebek's excellent training is the only reason that your child has not been hospitalized for concussions.
But his excellent training has not saved him from the baby's love of biting their father. So, so many times. Every time Sebek catches it.
Chomp.
Every time he bathes it.
Chomp.
Everytime he changes a diaper.
Chomp.
Sebek is covered in tiny little baby bites.
But oh, how your baby adores you. In between bouts of defiance and finger-snacking moods, your baby loves to lie in your arms and cuddle.
It's arguably the most comfortable time you get with Sebek and your baby.
And I do mean arguably, because Sebek swears up and down that the baby is happiest in the presence of Malleus, and it's a hill he's willing to die on. But you know he really just wants an excuse to show off your baby to Silver.
Silver is not impressed.
Your baby is the very definition of a headache to Sebek. They cry everytime they see Malleus, they hate any sort of regimen, they love to play and play and... play more. All day long. No work or training to be seen here, baby Zigvolt will NOT be having it unless you want 4 hours of ear-splitting tantrums. And the baby still won't do the work when they're done.
But still, you see Sebek in every aspect of your baby. The strength, the way your child loves you unconditionally, but treats everyone else cautiously, and overall, the refusal to do anything that doesn't align with their little baby whims.
You've lovingly termed your baby 'Stubborn Ziggy the Second'. Sebek is not a fan, but he allowed it after you let go of 'Swamp dog & Swamp puppy'.
Lilia Vanrouge
screaming.
And more screaming.
It is not the baby. It is you trying to find the baby.
"OH MY GOD I LOST IT, I LOST OUR BABY OH MY GOD---"
And then--
"Weh!" The baby pops its head out of a cabinet with its hands up the way Lilia does to scare them.
The baby giggles and coos at its own joke, making grabby hands while it waits for you to come get it.
You're just dumbfounded. You're going to have to scold Lilia, because now your little one is picking up on yet another one of his pranks.
Your baby is a lot like you, with one exception-- your baby is so playful and teasing that it honestly gives The Great Lilia Himself a run for his money.
Last week, you were frantically searching for an expensive piece of jewelry, when it dropped down on your head from the spot where little baby Vanrouge was apparently levitating it from.
Oh yes, your child's magic is coming in strong. Though Lilia's is fading, you tease that perhaps the little one is just absorbing it from him outright, showing him videos of your child's most recent magical displays of strength.
Your family bonds through jokes and playful faces, entirely. Lilia is probably a candidate for The Worst Parent on Earth, so you do most of the housework. It's not like Lilia's never offered, it's that you promised Silver not to let Lilia traumatize his little sibling. All of your best moments are spent by making space in your schedule for your family time.
Lil Vanrouge needs all your love, and Lilia Vanrouge does too. It's a fine balance between upsetting either of them, though dealing with hours of screaming and petty annoyance is not a hard decision.
Just make sure both are getting enough cuddles, and maybe don't judge growing-up lil Vanrouge when they decide they love gaming...
Azul Ashengrotto
Don't forget about Azul, please.
Your baby has the chubbiest cheeks and the cutest smile, but is it as cute as Azul? Cuter, probably. But don't tell him that.
Azul loves your child with all his heart, but he's a bit miffed that it requires so much of your love and attention.
You and baby Ashengrotto are very bonded, so it's rare to see you apart for a moment. And in that moment... Azul is putting on Full-Drama Mode. Cuddles, cuddles. More cuddles. Give him a kiss. Could you please take a bath with him? He's just so tired, he doesn't think he can take a bath by himself. Would you mind giving him a massage? You're too tired? That's ok, you scratch his back and he'll scratch yours. He's not too tired after all. He'll give you a massage.
Your little one is so much like their father, wanting all the attention and love in the world, but getting the priority treatment. Little baby Ashengrotto is Octavinelle's favorite thing ever. Everyone just wants to love on them and see their cuteness.
Azul was going to charge people to see them until you put your foot down and said no.
Azul knows how precious his child is. Secretly, he does want another. Two, just for a healthy statistical number's sake. But he won't tell you that. He's trying to come to terms with the shift in attention with one tiny octomer right now, maybe waiting a couple of years would be more optimal. He will never admit that he's jealous of your child, but claims that he's 'working through his issues when you bring it up.
But Azul will always prioritize his baby as well, even if unintentionally. In the end, the wellbeing of his family comes first and foremost.
And maybe showing off mini-mer to the Mostro lounge staff.
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Help Me Out?
Word Count: 1.7k
Summary: You're popular and you ask the smartest girl in class to help you out with your math work, and how could she say no? She was confused as you start to actually become friends. Because she didn't understand why someone like you would take an interest in someone like her.
Cw: reader cries bc of a mean teacher, kinda loser!ellie, reader fights with her fake ass friend.
A/n: this is actually based off a real life experience, I was sadly the loser in this situation 😔 also I obviously dramatized it for the story but yeahh, anyways enjoy! There will be a part 2.
You had to be the most confusing girl Ellie has ever met. She wondered why on earth you spent your time talking to her, when you were so popular. It wasn't unknown that Ellie was a lesbian, actually it was pretty much what she was known for. But you didn't seem to care.
Math was never your strong suit, in fact you'd always struggle with it. Ellie, however, was amazingly good at it. She had her heart set on becoming an astronaut one day, and so she figured that she'd have to understand math. Joel helped her to do just that, but he also made sure she excelled.
Anytime your math teacher spoke, it sounded like complete gibberish to you. You'd even cry some nights, you know on the days she would yell at the entire class about how stupid they were. It just felt like she was singling you out. And not to mention all the passive aggressive notes she'd leave on your assignments or tests. One day, you figured why not ask Ellie for help?
She was utterly confused. Why would someone like you talk to someone like her? And out of your own free will.
"Ellie? I'm really sorry to bother you, but can you help me out..?" Your voice was quiet and you sounded timid almost.
At first, she was silent. She kind of just stared at you. But eventually, she came to her senses.
"Yeah of course! What's up?" You smiled, she spoke so kindly to you.
"Here, let me just-" you got up and stood at her desk, "number 6, and basically everything after it. I just don't get it.." You sigh softly.
"Okay, this is what I wrote." She said, merely handing you her paper.
"No, I don't want to copy yours. Can you explain it to me?" You ask, looking over at her now with pleading eyes.
Ellie nodded, giving you a thin-lipped smile before she began to talk and point things out. You wrote what she told you to and hummed every now in then with understanding. Eventually she'd helped you complete the whole thing, and you were beyond thankful.
This kind of interaction would continue to happen between the two of you for the next couple weeks. Your teacher had grown.. annoyed with this behavior. For some unknown reason she just had it out for you, because when you walked into class today, she announced a seat change.
Ellie was already in class, so she got up from her former seat and stod at the front of the room along with everyone else. You made your way to stand beside her, crossing your arms out of frustration.
As your teacher began assigning new seats, you sighed. Ellie looked over at you, but said nothing. So you decided to start the conversation.
"God I hate her. She's probably doing this just so I'll fail." You whisper.
"Whay do you mean?" Ellie whispers in return.
"You've been.. helping me out lately. I guess she just can't stand to see me succeed." You frown softly.
Ellie turns to face you once again, noticing how upset you really were. She didn't know what to say, or do. So she kept quiet and waited for her new seat assignment. After a few more minutes everyone was settled in their new seats.
You and Ellie were sat just about as far away as possible. This was definitely personal. Throughout class, you struggled tremendously. God this was just what your stupid math teacher wanted.
That day, you took it upon yourself to find Ellie at lunch. If she was shocked that you'd even speak to her, just imagine how insane she found it when you sat at her lunch table. Usually she sat alone, not because she didn't have friends, but they all had different lunch hours.
She felt so entranced by you, every word you said felt like it was burned into her brain. She admired you, truly. Even if she thought she had no chance with you. Ellie figured you were straight. Everyone knew you had a boyfriend last year, until you didn't. That was beside the point. Falling for a "straight" girl wasn't the first thing on her list, but that's what was happening.
"I literally hate her!" You complained.
"I know," Ellie nodded. "She is pretty annoying."
While Ellie wasn't fond of your math teacher either, she'd lie if she was. She'd agree with anything you said. God she felt pathetic.
"Fucking tell me about it.." You scoffed.
Ellie was confused when you say with her everyday for the rest of the week, but she wasn't complaining. She'd gotten to know you better. And she was quite impressed with who you really turned out to be.
She always thought high school girls like you were mean, but you were so sweet to her. Ellie had enjoyed spending more time with you, and she had no problem helping you out with your math work too. You were starting to get the hang of it, but it still didn't make complete sense to you.
Friday was your breaking point, you were just beyond frustrated by your work. Your teacher was busy on thr phone, so you figured why not. And you stood and walked over to Ellies desk. She blushed deeply as you'd gotten very close to her and whispered in her ear.
But you couldn't have been trying to flirt, you were just trying to be discreet, right? She began to explain the problem to you, perfectly ad always. And you were ready to thank her and start working, but before you could, your teacher called out your name angrily.
"What are you doing out of your seat. You have got to be one of the worst students I've ever had. Get back to your seat, now!" This time, her words genuinely hurt you.
Ellie watched you nervously, noticing how you'd gone silent and the way your bottom lip quivered. Her eyes widened and she felt so terrible when you began to cry. Your face ran red hot as you could feel everyone staring at you.
Ellie sighed softly and stood up, unsure what she should do. But she didn't have to guess because you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around her, resting your head on her shoulder. Ellie felt so awkward, and, she felt dizzy almost. Holding her arms around you felt so unreal, but god did it feel good.
Your teacher ended up sending the both of you to the hallway. Where you'd sit against some lockers, your knees pulled to your chest and your head resting in your arms. Ellie sat beside you, crisscross applesauce as she looked over at you and waited. She was waiting for you to say something, anything.
"Sorry.. I'm just overreacting.." You'd finally whisper.
"But you're not," Ellie was quick to reassure, and she placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, "she's been so mean to you for so long. Your completely valid to be upset by her.." her voice was quiet and soft.
"Thank you.." You smiled as you whispered, resting your head against Ellie's shoulder and wrapping your hands gently around her forearm.
She'd just nod in response then try and breathe regularly, which felt impossible when you were all over her like this. God, what did you do to her? After some time passed the bell rang and you two made your way to lunch. As you walked your interlocked your arm with Ellie's, which earned you a few glares.
You were relieved to just be able to sit down and have lunch, and relax. But that peace didn't last long when one of the girls you used to sit with decided to approach you and Ellie. She sat beside you and stared at Ellie as if she were some kind of alien.
"So, this is what you're busy doing? Hanging out with.. her?" Olivia spoke with disgust.
Your brows furrowed with confusion, what was her issue? You scoffed softly before answering.
"Yeah." You begin, your tone was anything but kind, "she's way better company than any of you ever were. You guys are mean and.. fake. Ellie is nice and she actually makes me feel good about myself." Ellie watched with amazement as you talked about her so highly.
"Whatever, you're a loser now anyways. We heard you cried in class.." She started to laugh at you.
"Jesus, who cares!" Ellie finally interjects, you watch her nervously, "look I know you think the most important thing in life is whether people think you're cool or not, which believe me, you're not, because you're just like every other basic bitch you hang out with. One day you're going to realize that wow, you peaked in high school, and it all goes downhill from here. Now would you please leave us alone?" Her words came off confident and snarky.
But you saw how her hands shook in her lap. She was so nervous. You smiled at her, she did that for you. Nobody ever did that kind of stuff for you. She really was.. good company.
While Ellie had fallen for you first so clearly, you fell a lot harder. Some part of you always knew you wanted to be more than just her friend, but it wasn't until now that it really hit you. As Olivia got up and walked away, Ellie could tell how you looked at her differently.
"Ellie.." You whisper, and she nods, "you're the best." You settle on a friendly compliment, because oh my God!
You liked Ellie, you'd never expect that. Not because she was a girl, but just because she was Ellie. And it's not that she was unattractive or anything. But you two were just so different. It didn't make total sense, if any.
"Oh, thank you.." She blushed.
"Hey, let's hang out after school." You spoke with excitement, "I could sleep over!" Ellies eyes widened at that.
Immediately she thought about the two of you.. in the same bed. God what would she do. She'd have to figure it out, because of course, she agreed. You couldn't wait for the school day to end.
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Cherry Waves
Cherry Waves
pairing: Paul Atreides x fem!reader
word count: 9.2k
warnings: fluffy smut. virginity. oral (m receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, vague mention of dom/sub, breeding kink?!?!?, etc. chubby reader, no use of y/n (however your name is daisy lol)
summary: you consummate the arranged marriage to your new husband, paul atreides.
author's note: this is my second story that i am posting! i've been working on this one for awhile now... absolutely adore Paul Atreides and Dune. watched both movies like 5 times and just finished up the book! waiting for the next one from the library :) also Timothée's hair in this film is just ungodly and totally unfair - like i don't know if i want to be his hair or have it?? anyways, it's fluff with smut or smut with fluff??? its cute and dirty. that is all. thank you for reading!!!!! addendum: 05/04/23 - this is picking up reads because of Dune 2 promo and i just wanted to let you know that it's poorly edited, and a sequel will be coming soon.
For the first time since you landed on Caladan, the rain has finally stopped. And for the first time since you arrived, you are completely alone with him. Your husband. You haven’t spoken more than two words to him; you’ve been nothing but frightened for the last week, afraid of your new life on this new planet. You know you are going to have to accept this new life because you have no other choice. The other thing you are going to have to accept is him.
Paul Atreides.
You watch as he kneels before a delicate blossom, eyes fixed upon the intricate folds and hues of its magenta petals. His once sharp features have softened, the angles smoothed into an expression of wonder and reverence. You’ve seen this look of his before but can’t seem to place it. His slender fingers reach out and touch the velvety surface of the flower as if he were under its spell. His dark hair, wild and unkept, falls in loose waves around his face.
While you can’t help but notice how breathtakingly handsome Paul is, it’s not his looks that initially drew you in, but rather it is his quiet intensity that captivated your attention. He turns and his green orbs take a quick scan of you. His eyes have always held a depth of knowledge and experience far beyond his years, and even now as he observes you, he knows something you don’t.
“The flowers on Caladan are a wonder to behold,” He says tepidly, almost as if he’s afraid of scaring you away. He knows you’ve been on edge the last few days, practically jumping out of your skin every time he speaks to you. He straightens, his lean frame moving gracefully as he strides toward you. “Each one is so unique, with its own fragrance and beauty. Some are delicate and sweet, like the jasmine that grows near the waterfalls, while others are bold and robust, like the wild roses that climb the cliffs.”
You are frozen in place, knees trembling beneath your skirt. Paul stops when he is in front of you, his body mere inches away. Those eyes of his, perfectly green like the forest that surrounds the two of you, sparkle with reverence. He’s been in disbelief at how strikingly beautiful you are and how you don’t even realize it. The thought of you not knowing your strength or beauty brings a sadness to him that he can’t shake; it brings forth a determination to help you see and understand your true worth.
Gently, he raises his hand and touches a finger to your temple, sweeping away a piece of black hair. Underneath the light, the strands of hair shimmer with a blue hue. He moves his attention back to your face, “Caladan didn’t have daisies until you,”
When it comes to you, Paul can’t help but be tender. He knows you’ve been through so much. He sees the turmoil etched upon your face; Paul is afraid your sadness and fright will be permanent, and he does not want to go forward if you are intimidated by him. The corners of his lips pull down, shaking as he confronts you, “I… I know that you are scared of me, Daisy,”
Your throat tightens. You aren’t scared of Paul but rather, you are scared of what lies ahead in your future with him. He’s the son of Duke Leto Atreides; Paul has responsibilities that you never dreamed of. Folding your arms around your body, you swallow dryly and think of what to say with careful consideration because you can tell that Paul is growing frustrated with your lack of reciprocity.
“My lord,” The way you regard him by his formal title makes his chest constrict. He does not want such formalities when it’s just the two of you but he bites back the urge to correct you. He impatiently awaits the rest of your words. Your eyes cast downward, afraid to look him in the eye as you confess, “I’m not scared of you. I’m scared of the responsibilities that come with being your wife. I do not want to burden House Atreides.”
Concern floods Paul’s face and he is quick to shake his head. His brow knits together and he rushes to speak, the words tumbling out before he can think about what he’s saying, “Daisy, you need to understand that I didn’t choose this life either -”
He stops and inhales deeply to calm himself. Paul takes a step closer and the gap between your bodies narrows. Immediately, you can’t help but notice how his scent is a tantalizing combination of rain and a woody floral. It makes you think of safety. Paul drops his voice to a whisper, “I have responsibilities to House Atreides that I can’t simply ignore. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you or that I won’t do everything in my power to protect you.”
“You don’t even know me,” Your voice shakes with emotion. This isn’t how you address nobility but damn Paul’s title. His status brings forth an apprehension that claws inside your already rattled heart. You have known each other for less than ten days and yet here he is, declaring protection with everything he has. However, despite his best effort you still feel like a burden. He’s too young to feel like this - he has his entire life ahead of him and now? He has a wife to take care of. Your eyes snap up and you breathe out, “You shouldn’t have to deal with this, any of this…”
Paul studies your face, sensing your doubts and your burdens. Your eyes remain clouded with fear and melancholy. Oh, how Paul yearns to alleviate your concerns and set your mind at ease, but he feels helpless in doing so. His father never taught him how to be a loving husband; Paul is only schooled in politics and the responsibilities of a Duke. Navigating the complexity of matrimony has never been part of his training.
“I understand that this might be difficult for you to understand,” He cups your face and caresses your cheek with his thumb. Paul realizes this is the most affectionate he’s ever been with someone and it breaks his heart knowing this is the first time you are on the receiving end. He silently vows to give you all the love he has. As he speaks, warmth radiates off his words, “You are not a burden, and you will never be a burden to me because we are in this together, Daisy. You are my family now. I promise we will figure this out, together.”
Tears swell in your eyes, “I’m sorry, m’lord -”
“Daisy,” He sharply cuts you off, “You don’t have to apologize - none of this is your fault, okay?”
Paul leans his forehead against yours, “We are a team now. You are my wife and I will do everything I can to protect you.”
You close your eyes, letting the tears fall down your cheeks. Paul is quick to wipe them away and much to your surprise, he kisses each of your eyelids. Your hands cling to his waist, suddenly desperate to keep him close. Paul notices the change and feels your urgency as if you are afraid of him slipping away. He responds by planting butterfly kisses on every inch of skin he can reach. More tears crash down and Paul sweeps them away. You can’t help but giggle at the valiant effort that your husband is making to make you feel better.
The sound of your giggle makes Paul giddy and it causes his stomach to flip. He’s never felt like this before. His lips stretch into a smile as he continues to assault your beautiful face with endless amounts of affection. Paul stops for a brief moment, pulling away to see how your face has brightened. You look like sunshine now and it leaves him breathless.
Your eyes flutter open, wanting to see why your husband has stopped. Paul is peering at you with so much love and admiration that it makes your breath hitch inside your chest. You have never felt so safe and so adored. A look flickers across his verdant eyes and before you can say anything, Paul captures your lips with his.
Technically, this is not the first time he has kissed you but this kiss is exceptionally better than the one you were forced to share at the ceremony. This kiss felt natural and it felt right. There is a certain innocence to how he is applying soft pressure against your lips. Almost as if he’s afraid of breaking you. You want more, no, you need more. You can’t get enough and truth be told, neither can Paul. A desire ignites inside him and his stomach coils as something stirs inside his pants -
“Paul!”
The interruption causes you to jump but for Paul, the interruption of Gurney Halleck angers him. You are blushing at being caught in a compromising position, hiding your face against Paul’s chest as the future Duke turns to the weapon teacher. Annoyed, Paul scowls at the smirk on Gurney’s face. Gurney didn’t think Paul had it in him because truthfully, Gurney didn’t support the arranged marriage; he had his own misgivings and predictions about you. But upon seeing this revelation, Gurney’s opinion swiftly changed.
“My apologies for the interruption,” Gurney clears his throat, “My lord, may I remind you that your weapon’s master doesn’t like to be kept waiting…”
Paul glares at Gurney before turning his attention back to you, his face softening into that of a lovesick puppy. Your face is still pressing into his chest. Gently, he lifts your head and sweetly kisses your cheek, murmuring, “I will see you later, okay?”
Unwillingly, Paul tears himself away from you and stalks toward Gurney who is patiently waiting by the edge of the garden. Gurney, having known Paul since he was a wee little one, chuckles at the bulge in the young master’s pants. When Paul is close enough, Gurney leans over and mutters, “May I suggest a cold shower before training?”
Paul’s face turns bright red upon realizing what Gurney is talking about.
Throughout weapon training, Paul is distracted. His thoughts are consumed by you. Gurney notices and finds himself pushing the young boy harder, and harder. Paul mustn’t give in to thoughts of temptation. Gurney barks order after order, hitting Paul over and over until the boy is on the ground, huffing and puffing, sweat pouring down his face.
A look of determination etches upon Paul’s face as he lifts himself from the ground, swinging his blade around and glaring at Gurney. Paul is about to lunge at his weapon’s trainer but Gurney makes the quick decision to draw the session to a close because it’s clear, they won’t get much farther than this.
“Paul,” Gurney orders, raising his hand for the boy to halt, “That’s enough for today,”
“I’m not done yet,” Paul hisses, clutching the handle of his blade. He eyes as Gurney walks over to the table of weapons and begins to clean them, buffing the blade until it shines.
“Your skills are improving Paul,” Gurney says gruffly, “But there’s something else you need to learn if you want to be a good husband,”
Paul looks at Gurney with a quizzical look, unsure of how being a husband has anything to do with a training session. The young master huffs, “What are you talking about, Gurney?”
“What I mean, boy, is that being a good husband takes more than just sword skills,” Gurney replies, his tone serious. “You need to have control over your thoughts.”
Paul blushes, had it really been that obvious? He sheepishly admits, “I… I guess I was a bit distracted...”
“A bit?” Gurney guffaws, throwing his head back. Paul’s naivety is something else. He presses, “You spent two hours thinking of your wife - this type of distraction is unacceptable, young master Paul. What are you going to do when an enemy has overpowered you?”
“I have my shield -” Gurney is swift to penetrate the forcefield of an unsuspecting Paul. The defence shield vibrates at the intrusion causing Paul to stumble, his green eyes snap to his waist where the blade is hovering above his sweat-soaked shirt. Paul lets out a sigh of frustration, feeling like he has not only let himself down but Gurney as well.
Gurney scorns, “How many times have I told you? The defence shield is only -”
“As good as the person wielding the sword,” Paul finishes Gurney’s sentence. Gurney ignores Paul and continues with his speech, “Even the most powerful shield can be breached by a skilled warrior and no matter how advanced or sophisticated your shield technology is, if you can’t properly use your sword, you are vulnerable to an attack.”
Gurney sheathed his blade, eyeing Paul who looks defeated. Gurney lets out a exhale, “Paul, marriage is a lot like weapon training. You have to be willing to put in the work, to learn and grow together, and to be there for each other through thick and thin.”
Paul turns off his defence shield and runs his finger along the edge of the blade, fascinated by the vulnerability - one wrong move and he could cut himself, and bleed to death. Suddenly, the weight of being a husband falls on his shoulders and he thinks about the promise he made to protect you. He's liable for another person now and he wonders if he's even ready for the responsibility of having a wife. The young master mutters, “What happens if I can’t keep my promise of protecting her?”
Gurney furrows his brow and gives Paul a stern look, “Then you’ll have failed not only her, but yourself as well,” he says firmly, “A true warrior doesn’t waste time worrying about the what-ifs. Instead, focus on the task at hand and what you can do to prevent it. Train harder, study your enemy, and always be one step ahead. The best way to protect her is to be prepared for anything that comes your way and that means forcing yourself not to think frivolous thoughts about her,”
Paul grimly nods but Gurney sees the young boy hasn’t been convinced yet. Gurney feels for him; this is new territory and Paul has yet to find the best way to navigate it. Gurney continues, “As for your wife, you cannot be with her every moment of the day, but you can teach her to be just as skilled with the sword as you are.”
Paul hurries down the corridor of his family's castle, trying to get back to you as soon as possible. He is so excited to see your face that his stomach is churning with anticipation. He wants to hold you, touch you, kiss you. You are all he’s been thinking about and he is so close to seeing you again. Paul accelerates around the corner and nearly collides with his father, Duke Leto Atreides. Paul is caught off guard and he stumbles back.
Duke Leto regards his son with a knowing look as if he had been waiting for Paul. Leto watches as Paul straightens himself out, smoothing and adjusting the black tunic with the House of Atreides symbol on his chest. Paul suddenly feels nervous being in the presence of his father, he’s unsure of what to say or do. Paul waits for instruction.
“Paul,” His father nods. Leto knew that Paul would be in this area of the castle because Gurney had already informed him. In fact, Gurney had also informed the Duke of the kiss that the young master and his lady shared in the garden - Gurney said it wasn’t just any kiss either. It was the kiss; the type of kiss that would’ve certainly led to something more had it not been for Paul’s strict training schedule.
Leto is amused by his son’s red face which is impatient and restless. The Duke knows that Paul will not disobey his orders and decides his teachings in matrimony couldn't have come at a better time. He offers a smile to Paul, “Relax, son - Gurney told me you’d be here,”
Paul clears his throat and nods, “Yes, my lord - can I help you with anything?” Paul is dreading the answer and finds himself becoming resentful toward the Duke because now, Paul has been delayed from seeing you. When the Duke gives a curt nod, Paul’s stomach drops - why did he have to be such a fool and ask such a question?
“Yes, Paul. There is something you could help me with,” the Duke motions for Paul to follow him down the corridor of their castle. As they walk through the dimly lit castle, the glowglobes above them illuminate the towering walls made of rough-hewn gray stone. The Duke’s footsteps reverberate through the long, empty hall, echoing off the walls and filling the silent space.
Leto thinks about how small Paul used to be and how it seems like it was only yesterday that Paul was running around the castle and playing pretend with all of his imaginary friends. He has grown into a tall, handsome young man but despite all of his training and teachings, Paul still has yet to master his stoicism. Leto notes how Paul's lips are pursed with muted animosity - his son is annoyed with him. The Duke is amused by this; he knows he is yet another barrier keeping Paul from his new wife.
As the Duke regards his son, he realizes that Gurney is right. Paul is completely smitten by you and those verdant eyes of his are pooled with so much love that it spills out. His infatuation with you is written across Paul's face. This is a side of his son that he has never seen before. It pleases him because originally, Leto was resistant to the arranged marriage brought on by the Padishah Emperor who insisted that Paul take one of his daughters from House Corrino.
The Duke knows that this type of look on royalty is frowned upon and that it may be seen as a weakness. But Leto cannot help but feel proud of his son for allowing himself to feel and express intense emotions. In a world where political alliances rule, it is a rare and precious thing to see someone unabashedly show love and affection. Leto thinks of his own reasons for not marrying his concubine, Lady Jessica, and does not wish for Paul to be burdened with the same regrets.
With a sense of determination, the Duke decides to do everything in his power to help Paul build a strong and loving relationship with you. Leto refrains from chastising his son about his open display of affection because he realizes that Paul needs guidance on other matters; matters attaining to the bedroom.
He knows Paul has received the talk about procreation but Leto is about to give his son advice on proper lovemaking. It's a topic he was unwilling to breach but Lady Jessica was insistent that it happens tonight as it's obvious the newlyweds will be consummating the marriage sooner than later; she gave her own advice to you earlier and now, it is the Duke's turn.
He takes a deep breath, carefully selecting his words. He doesn't want to scare Paul and begins imparting his knowledge with a casual statement, “Gurney informed me of your training session,” He pauses when he realizes that Paul isn't paying attention to him. However, the Duke presses on, “Paul, you’re a husband now. You have a wife - a beautiful wife -”
“She is beautiful, isn’t she?” Paul interjects rather dreamily as a dazed look crosses his eyes. There he goes again, letting his love spill out. Leto realizes that he'll have to remind Paul about the importance of keeping his emotions in check but for now, it could wait.
"Yes, she is. And now that you're a husband, there are certain things you must do and certain things you must not do," Leto stops and turns to his son, watching as Paul's expression changes to that of confusion. "You are responsible for her happiness, her sadness - your actions will directly affect her well-being."
Paul slowly nods, taking in his father's words. Leto cocks his head to the side, asking, "Son, do you know how to keep your wife happy?"
The young master shakes his head and casts his gaze downward - no, he doesn't know how to keep you happy. And it's been plaguing him all day. It's what kept him distracted during weapon training. But when his father speaks again, it's not the type of advice he was expecting to hear: "Listen very carefully, Paul. I’m going to tell you the secret to keeping your wife happy -"
Leto glances around, making sure that they were alone and just for added measure, he lowers his voice, “You’re going to kiss her lips, kiss her until you can’t breathe. And your hands, they’re going to touch her. Everywhere. Slowly at first, but with purpose...”
Paul's face grows hot with discomfort and simply put, he's dumbfounded by these instructions; it takes him a minute to realize that his father is giving advice on foreplay. His cheeks burn crimson. He's hesitant, feeling like a fool for asking such a silly question, “How do I know if she likes it?”
"Oh, you'll know, son … you'll know," His father's eyes darken and it startles Paul. His father inches closer, his voice dropping to an even lower octave, “Your fingers and tongue are tools, they will aid you in making your wife happy."
This advice is the limit of the boundary Leto is willing to cross. He's unwilling to give any more as it is up to his son to learn that not every woman is the same and that what Lady Jessica likes might not be what Lady Daisy likes. Leto also doesn't want to scar his son with his own prowess because what he and Jessica do in their bedroom is none of Paul's business.
But of course, Paul can't help but wonder how his father knows such things and it quickly dawns on the young master that the Duke does these things with Paul’s mother - is this the reason for their happiness? The thought makes him feel uneasy and strange. He never thought sex could have such a profound effect on a relationship but it makes sense. Paul suddenly understands the gravity of his father's advice and the complexity it will bring to his own marriage; ultimately, Paul is frightened yet intrigued by the idea that his tongue and fingers will help him in the pursuit of your happiness.
Paul's brows knit together and he gazes down at his fingers, watching as he repetitively curls and uncurls them. He clarifies, "I can... I use them... on her?"
"Yes, Paul. Use them on your wife - and remember to listen to her. Nonverbal cues are still cues, her sighs and moans will tell you everything you need to know," His father sees Paul struggling to hold back the utter panic and he feels for the young boy who is about to become a man. Leto remembers feeling the same way when it came to bedding Lady Jessica for the first time. He places a reassuring hand on Paul's shoulder and adds: "The most important part is consent, Paul … remember, you have an entire lifetime to spend with her. Don't feel like you need to rush through it all tonight."
Paul nods, his throat tight and dry. The prospect of seeing you makes him anxious, and despite knowing that he desires you with every fibre of his being, he can’t shake off the uneasiness of being a disappointment. What if he can’t please you? What if he can’t perform? Will this make you love him less?
“Breathe, son. Breathe.” The Duke pats his son's shoulder and gives an encouraging smile, “You’ll do fine, Paul. I’ll see that a change is made for your weapon training session tomorrow and I’ll make sure that Gurney Halleck doesn’t bother the happy couple.”
“Have a nice evening son, and be safe,” with that, Duke Leto Atreides departs, leaving Paul alone in the corridor to ponder on what lies ahead of him tonight.
The young master leans against the cool stone and closes his eyes, taking deep breaths to steady himself. The weight of responsibility and expectations from both his father and his new wife weighs heavily on his conscience. Paul has to remind himself that he loves you and he is willing to do anything to make you happy.
The sound of the bedroom door opening startles you. Quickly, you stand. Hands trembling as they smooth out the cream-coloured negligee that adorns your body. It was a gift from Paul’s mother; she gave it to you earlier. It seems that gossip travels around the castle at an alarming rate because not even an hour after you and Paul were seen kissing in the garden, Lady Jessica was pulling you to the side for a little chat because she seems to think that tonight is the night that you finally consummate your marriage.
And she’s right because the moment Paul steps into the room, and closes the door behind him - locking it - you know exactly what is about to happen. Paul stands across from you, eyes blazing at the sight of you, drinking in your body. He’s wearing his usual black tunic. His wavy hair looks even more dishevelled than before. His cheeks are rosy. And once again, his eyes capture you and pull you into those pools of emerald. Every ounce of his love surrounds you and it spreads like wildfire across your body.
You can't believe that Paul Atreides is yours. He's so unbelievably handsome with his aquiline nose, his high-cheek bones, and his slender neck that tapers gracefully into his lean shoulders. He oozes noble lineage and the thought of providing Paul with an heir makes you giddy.
“My lord,” You finally speak. You give a curtsy, bowing your head in the process. Paul cringes; he hates when you call him by his formal title. He despises it. It makes his blood boil. He takes several long strides until he is standing in front of you. Paul places his fingers beneath your chin, lifting your head until your eyes meet his.
For a moment, you look… frightened. But there’s something else hiding in those russet-coloured eyes of yours. Paul softens, he’s suddenly all too aware that he still has the remnants of distaste written across his face. “Daisy, please… when it’s just the two of us - Just you and me - call me Paul,”
It almost feels like treason disregarding his title but he doesn’t want such formalities with you. Never. Ever. Your cheeks flush with embarrassment and you nod, "Of course, my -"
You swallow his title and shakily breathe out, "Paul," his name sounds foreign as it leaves your lips. You feel … naughty calling him by his name. You don’t think you’ve ever regarded Paul as such, not even during your marriage vows did you call him just Paul. His name leaves your lips once more, “Paul,”
The way you say his name makes him smile. He smiles so wide that his teeth make an appearance and the skin by his eyes crinkles with delight. He softly replies, "Daisy,"
You return the smile and your eyes glisten with adoration as you and Paul regard each other with a newfound appreciation as if you're meeting him for the first time. It might as well be since the first few days were tumultuous, filled with uncertainty and a longing to be anywhere that wasn't Caladan. But now, all you want to be is with him.
Paul can't help himself anymore and gives into temptation, his eyes glancing down at the negligee your body is adorned with. It’s a bit tight and it leaves almost nothing to the imagination; he's able to see the colour of your flesh through the transparent silk. His eyes linger on the imprints of your breasts as they poke through the fabric but what really intrigues Paul is the secret that lies between your thighs. Paul notices the strap of your negligee has started to slip down your shoulder and he reaches up to adjust it, his fingers gently brushing against your collarbone as he does so.
Immediately, he notices that the simple touch has caused goosebumps to explode across the surface of your skin followed by a tinge of red. Paul is fascinated by this change and wonders what other reactions you have in store for him. Meanwhile, you're growing impatient with him. You wish he'd just kiss you already because you miss the feeling of his lips against yours. But he doesn't and unbeknownst to you, Paul is planning to take his sweet time.
Paul steps back, unbuttoning the top of his tunic. He's never gotten used to the tightness of his uniform and he lets out a sigh of relief. His eyes briefly glance at you standing there. You look annoyed by his actions and this amuses him.
You begin to shift on the balls of your heels, teeth biting into your lower lip as you think ‘patience is a virtue’. Paul has had a long day of weapons training and royal responsibilities. Surely, he is tired. But you have also waited all day for him and waiting a few more minutes sounds torturous - maybe if you ask him to kiss you, he'll listen.
"Please, Paul..." Your voice comes out whinier than intended. You feel embarrassed but it's Paul's reaction to your petulance that makes the pink colour in your cheeks deepen into crimson.
He pauses, a single eyebrow of his raising as his lips lift into a playful smirk. "Please, what, Daisy?"
Paul watches you through those thick, dark eyelashes of his. He waits for your answer and what you're unaware of is that he has enough patience to wait forever. After all, he is the son of a duke. Since birth, he's been taught to endure and persevere.
“I-I…” You stutter, feeling suddenly overwhelmed by the look clouding over in Paul’s verdant eyes. It causes an unfamiliar feeling to stir inside you and your thoughts quickly become a jumbled, incoherent mess. But thankfully, what you can recall is Lady Jessica’s advice: if you can’t tell him, show him.
Slowly, you walk forward with Paul watching your every move. Your fingers tremble as you reach for the button of his tunic, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement. As you unbutton his tunic, you quietly inquire, “How was your weapons training?”
Your question brings a sense of closeness that you’ve never experienced before. But truth be told, you don’t care about his weapon training. You just think it’ll help speed things up a bit. But Paul is distracted. His gaze lingers on your face; he’s admiring the smattering of freckles that dance along the bridge of your nose. You glance at him and see that his lips are still curved into an adoring smile. It makes your heart swell.
Paul finally answers your question but his words fall on deaf ears because your mind is distracted by the sight of his lean waist. You find yourself growing envious of his body and begin to feel insecure because there is no denying the fact that your body is fuller than his, your bits fleshy and pudgy. Of course, Paul sees the change in your face and at first, he’s confused. But as he watches your eyes studying his body, particularly his perfectly flat stomach, he realizes what is bothering you.
"Oh, Daisy..." He coos. His voice breaks through your thoughts and you look at him, puzzled. Paul tilts his head to the side and traces his finger along your rotund jawline. Truth be told, he adores the ampleness of your body. He’s been admiring your curves for days and now, he finally has the opportunity to touch them. Paul is filled with the utmost delight at the prospect of being smothered by you body that’s bigger than his.
It is this exact thought that unleashes Paul from his restraints and he leans down, capturing your lips with his. You sigh happily and instantly forget about your jealousy. You relish the feeling of his supple lips pressing against yours - finally. He places a hand on the nape of your neck and the other on your hip, fingers digging into your thick flesh. He eagerly presses his body against yours, but it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough.
This kiss is different than the one in the garden. It's urgent. Needy. Paul is eager for more and he deepens it by swiping his tongue against your bottom lip. Your mouth opens - you've never been kissed like this before and at first, you're timid. Unsure of what to do. But Paul seems to be just as lost as you are. It doesn't stop either of you from trying.
Time blurs and for several minutes, it's nothing but a kindling mess of trembling hands and soft, wet noises. There is no rhythm and there is no tempo. Paul is sucking your tongue into his mouth and next, you're nipping at his lower lip; he growls when you do so. The growl reverberates through your body and dissolves into a heavy pleasure that presses down into your core.
Your lungs are desperate for fresh air and reluctantly, you separate. Your chest heaves against Paul’s and you gaze at him, noting how his eyes are still closed, lost in the throes of passion. His lips are swollen, bee-stung. Your lips are swollen too. Paul begins to run his hands up and down your back, his feathery touch tickles and you giggle softly at the sensation. His eyes snap open, verdant eyes flickering with burning desire.
“Do you want to lie down?” His voice is low-pitched but clear, his intentions are polite and sincere. He'll never stop being a duke even during the most intimate of times. He presses his forehead against yours, patiently waiting for an answer.
"Yes," Your voice shakes. He takes your hand and leads you to the bed. Tension begins to simmer beneath the surface and it causes your throat to dry up, making it difficult to speak. Those pesky nerves have come back and you wish they hadn't because you were having so much fun before -
“Are you okay?” Paul asks lowering your body down first before sliding his body next to yours. Your stomach is violently fluttering and you can only nod in response. You wonder if he can hear how fast your heart is beating.
Paul can just tell by wavering doubt on your face that you’re not okay. He peers at you, his face full of concern. He speaks, “Tell me you’re okay, Daisy,”
You swallow dryly and nod for a second time. Your fingers are gripping his arm because you are afraid that if you let go, he might disappear. It takes you another minute to gather yourself.
“I’m o-okay,” Breathlessly, you repeat, “I’m okay,”
This time it's Paul’s turn to nod. His lips turn into a soft, reassuring smile. He tenderly tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear and addresses your concerns, “We don’t have to do this - we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to,”
Your heart tumbles over its own rhythm and you quickly shake your head. You want this - you want him. You want him to penetrate you with the bulge that has been steadily growing in his pants. You whisper, “But… but what if I do want it?”
He bites into his growing smile, trying to hide his excitement. He’s thrilled that you feel the same way and he loves hearing you speak. He wishes that you’d do it more and he knows in time that you will. As his father said, Paul has an entire lifetime to spend with you.
“Make love to me, Paul…” Your confession is quiet. Barely audible. Paul is unsure if he has even heard you but at the sight of your blushing cheeks, he knows that he wasn’t dreaming. You are silently pleading that he feels the way because if he doesn’t, you might just perish from embarrassment.
Paul pauses to watch the look of yearning etch itself across your face. You start to shift beneath the intensity of his gaze, your eyes dropping down. That’s when Paul feels your hands moving down his body. Your fingers latch onto his trousers, attempting to unbutton them but you’re having trouble, and it’s making you flustered.
Paul is loving every second of it. He enjoys how your brows have furrowed in concentration and he particularly likes the frustration growing on your face. You bite your lower lip and impatiently huff as you give up. You realize he’s been watching you this entire time and your eyes snap to his. You glare at the coltish expression on his face. Paul finds your exasperation endearing.
You bury your face into his arm, mumbling, “Paul, make love to me…”
Blood rushes through his body and goes straight down to the bulge straining against his trousers. He loves your wantonness and he wants to hear you beg for it again. He pulls your face away from his skin, eyes devouring you. As he holds your chin between his hands, Paul demands, “Say it again,”
You can’t help but glare again at him. He knows you won’t disobey. You speak, voice clipped with precise ardency, “Paul Atreides, my lord, will you please fuck me?”
The mixture of his full name and his title sends his blood into a frenzy. If he was already turned on before, then what’s happening to his body now? One thing for sure is that you don’t have to ask again because, within a minute, Paul has hastily thrown off his trousers and he’s now completely naked.
Your eyes, well… your eyes are instantly locked onto the appendage between your husband’s thighs. Of course, you have seen what a phallus looks like in art and in scientific videos. But in comparison to Paul’s, those examples were tiny and they definitely did not prepare you for the real thing.
His cock is so engorged and so pink, the tip of it glistening with some sort of secretion. As he moves his body back down to the bed, his cock twitches and bobs. He sees your fascination and watches how you are practically salivating over his well-endowed gift. Your core squirms with anticipation and your thighs involuntarily flex at the thought of him being inside you.
“Do you want to touch it?” His voice is timid, hesitating to request such a thing from his innocent wife but he’s held back long enough. Paul is so sure that he’s going to burst at any second - he watches as you reach out, hand faltering at second thoughts. Paul inhales sharply, “Touch me, Daisy, please…”
When your fingers brush against the tip of his cock, he shudders and his stomach constricts causing his cock to quiver. You quickly look up at him, wondering if you had hurt him but it’s clear you haven’t. He has an intense but dazed look on his face and he’s biting down on his lower lip, restraining himself. Paul is holding himself back and persevering through the pure torture you’re currently putting him through.
You wonder what’ll happen if you firmly grasp his cock, so your hand wraps around his girthy shaft and a throaty groan escapes from deep inside Paul’s body. His reaction pleases you and slowly, you continue to drag your hand down until it rests against the furry tufts on the base of his cock.
You notice how Paul’s chest is heaving and he’s pressing his body into the mattress, hands gripping the sheets, knuckles almost turning white. He looks at you through half-lidded eyes, pleading for more but you’re taking your time, exploring his body, finding ways to incite reactions from him. You know he’s enjoying your hand gliding up and down his cock but what if… what if you were to taste him? You readjust your body so that you’re sitting with your mouth hovering over his cock.
“Daisy, what’re you…” Paul says, his voice deeper than usual. You lick the tip of his cock, tasting the pearly secretion that has been leaking out. Paul gasps, swearing under his breath. You lick his cock again and once more, Paul reacts with a throaty gasp. You’ve overpowered him with one simple move and now he’s yours. It is at this moment that Paul realizes he is supposed to be listening to your sighs and moans but instead, you’re listening to his.
He watches as you thoroughly lick the tip of his cock. The sensation is immaculate and he’s struggling to remain cool and composed. You aren’t exactly sure what you’re doing but you’re enjoying the smoothness and warmth of his arousal. You seal your lips around him and slowly, very tentatively, lower your mouth down. Paul groans loudly and his hand finds the back of your head, his fingers gripping your hair so that it’s not in the way of his view.
The sight of you, mouth full of his throbbing cock, practically sends him over the edge. He has to restrain himself by closing his eyes and silently begging that he doesn’t ejaculate - he can’t. Not yet. He’s trying to convince himself that it’s your turn to be pleasured but when his cock hits the back of your throat, you gag and the sound makes him completely forget everything. His eyes snap open, watching as you bring your mouth back up, leaving a trail of spit pooling down his cock.
“D-Da-Daisy,” Paul sputters out, completely out of breath. You ignore him, dragging both your hands along his quivering cock. He struggles to find his words but when he does, he orders, “Stop,”
He grabs your hands and pulls them off his body. Shocked, you look at him. He looks like a man who has just been to hell and back. His hair is beyond dishevelment, strands of it sticking to his damp forehead. His eyes are wild, his once verdant eyes have been taken over by expanded pupils that have blackened out any colour.
Before you can ask what you did wrong, Paul is tugging off the negligee and exposing your naked body to him for the first time. His eyes sweep over every nook and cranny, noting every bulge of abundance. He’s taking inventory, marking his favourite areas. He’s particularly drawn to your breasts and how they swell against your chest, gravity pulling down the pillows of dough. They look rather heavy to Paul and he just has to reach up to grasp them. God, they’re so soft and perfect. He’s quick to lower his mouth, latching it onto your perky nipple. The sensation of his tongue swiping over the sensitive bud makes you gasp, “Paul,”
He grins against your skin and can’t help himself, he just has to nibble at the fleshy softness of your chest, which causes you to gasp. Your hand grabs the back of Paul’s head, fingers kneading through his hair, locking him there because your breasts absolutely love the attention. Meanwhile, Paul feels like he is in heaven, sighing happily as little noises continue to escape from your mouth.
Simply put, he can’t get enough of you. He licks and sucks your breasts as if they were ripe fruits, his tongue sweet and rough against the sensitive flesh. He alternates between too much and not enough, which creates a perplexed feeling between your hips, right in the crest of your crotch. It’s vague, incomplete. You have never felt such a thing before tonight. You flex your thighs, hoping that you can rid yourself of the unnatural feeling.
With his mouth still attached to your breast, Paul takes his hand and plants it on the inside of your thigh. This movement doesn’t help the unnatural feeling that has been steadily growing and you squirm, hoping Paul doesn’t notice. Of course, he does and he detaches himself to peer at you. He loves how pink and splotchy your cheeks have gotten, and he loves how your eyes have narrowed into a lusty squint.
Testing you, he drags his fingers upward. His cock throbs at how saturated your thighs have gotten. He doesn’t even think you’re aware of the wetness seeping from your flower and he cups your fuzzy mound, which causes you to squeal in surprise. The sudden intrusion is too much and you’re squirming out of his grasp. Paul is quick and wraps his other arm around your body. He’s strong enough to hold you, keeping you locked against him.
With his voice barely above a whisper, Paul asks, “Can I?”
You swallow hard. You desperately want him to touch you down there but you’re terrified of what might happen because you heard that unnatural things can occur. Paul senses your worry and feels your hesitation, and immediately takes his hand away - consent is the most important thing. You can’t help but notice how your pussy suddenly feels lonely now…
However, those thoughts are quickly pushed away because Paul pulls your body down with his, your chest colliding with his as he lies underneath you. You feel like you’re crushing him and for a third time, you begin to squirm.
“Daisy,” His grip tightens. You stop squirming and sheepishly glance up at him. He’s gazing at you, with so much love and adoration, that it makes your breathing hitch inside your throat. Paul whispers, “You’re the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”
The compliment makes you blush, your skin reddening even more. You confess, “I’m not a woman yet -”
“Yet,” Paul interjects and shifts so that your body is lying next to his. He kisses your temple, “Lay back and relax, I’m going to try something…”
You’re reluctant for Paul to see such an intimate part of you. He pleads, eyes begging for a chance. He murmurs, “Just trust me, okay?”
His words make you reconsider. You decide to trust your husband and you lay down, inhaling to calm yourself. But the moment Paul places his hands on your legs, your heart rate spikes and rattles against your chest. As he spreads you open, he looks at your flower with reverence. It’s so puffy, so pink and so wet that it glistens beneath the glowglobes.
He positions his body between your thighs, his cock rubs against the inner flesh, and you shudder at the sensation. He looks at you, worried. You shake your head, “Paul, I need you…”
At your request, he is so quick to touch you. His finger slides along your folds. You suck in and bite down on your lower lip, holding back. But Paul yearns to hear you, and he does it again, repeating the movement. A small groan escapes and it’s all the encouragement that he needs. Through heavy-lidded eyes, you see that he is in deep concentration, studying as your hips jerk when he presses his palm against a sensitive little nub that’s hiding between your petals. As he does it again, your mouth goes slack and a moan slips out. He begins to circle it with determination, knowing this must be the spot.
There’s a liquid heat pooling in your core and the more pressure he adds, the less you can take it. You are back to squirming beneath his touch, gasping and groaning at the pressure building inside. It’s such a foreign feeling - you feel like you’re going to burst open. You feel scared about what might happen. You want Paul to stop, yet you don’t. Everything is so conflicting and your throat is parched, and you want your husband to look at you. But Paul is so engrossed in what he’s doing - he’s absolutely fascinated at the stickiness that seeps through your magnificent folds.
Unable to take much more, you reach down and grasp his chin, forcing him to look at you. At first, he’s baffled. He was so sure that you were enjoying his hard work - your eyes are hungry, having not been satiated yet. The look sends a chill down his spine and when you whimper, his cock twitches.
If he wants to make you a woman, it needs to happen now. You whimper again, “Paul, I need you … I need you inside of me,”
“Are … are you sure, Daisy?” He asks, eyes glazing over. You nod and reach up to caress his cheek. Paul is so unbelievably sweet. He begins to trail kisses along your stomach, tongue dipping into your belly button causing you to throw your head back into the pillow. He grins wolfishly and continues marking his territory, relentlessly teasing you until you are nothing but a wet, blubbering mess.
Finally, after a lifetime has passed, Paul sweetly kisses your lips and his cock brushes against your swollen labia. The first meeting. Wetness against wetness. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his shoulders down into your body. Paul steadies himself, his chest puffing out with excitement as he lines the tip of his cock against your entrance.
“Fuck,” He hisses. Paul knows it’s going to be a tight fit and he’s worried about hurting you. He plants a tender kiss against your jaw, whispering, “Tell me if I hurt you, okay?”
You nod, shutting your eyes and moaning out as his cock begins to nudge inside. It’s definitely a little too large for comfort and your body is resisting - you have to order yourself to relax. And when he’s finally pushed past, there’s a popping sensation. It’s quick and it hurts, pain shooting through your pelvis. You wince.
Paul notices and stops, he attempts to pull out but you’re quick to lock your legs around his. His lips move against your skin, “Am I hurting you?”
“No,” You sniffle, shaking your head. But Paul can see straight through your lie. He asks the question again, shifting because he’s afraid of causing you pain. This time, you answer truthfully, “It hurts but your cock… it feels so good, Paul - don’t stop, please don’t stop -”
He listens and continues to push his hips forward. Your eyes remain closed but your mouth hangs open, little mewling noises coming forth. Paul struggles to remain composed as your tight cunt swallows his girth. At a glacial pace, he pushes into your body and buries his face into the crook of your neck. He’s struggling not to cum because, for him, the suction of your velvety walls is swiftly driving him toward the edge.
“You’re such a good girl,” He’s barely audible, hands gripping the side of your protruding stomach. He gives one final thrust, grunting, “Cunt so goddamn tight,”
His cock is fully inside, buried to the hilt. You’re gasping, fireworks sparking behind your eyelids. Your hands are trailing along his back, nails digging into fevered flesh. It still hurts but it’s a good type of hurt. He begins rocking his hips, slowly at first, stretching out your virgin cunt. The mixture of pain and pleasure has you splitting open, crying out, “Oh, fuck! Paul!”
For a moment, Paul thinks he’s hurting you again and he pauses. You hiss at him, “My lord, just fuck me already,”
Your lord does not like that. He sits up on his knees, arms placed on either side of you and hovers over your body. It glistens with sweat and you’re eyes have snapped open at the sudden loss. You see that Paul’s eyebrows are knitted together, irritated that you brought up his nobility. He pulls out, noting the smear of crimson around his cock but doesn’t think twice about it and shoves it back inside.
You cry out, “My lord,”
He seethes, biting down on his lower lip and begins to rapidly thrust in and out. You want to be properly fucked and he’s giving you exactly what you want. The room fills with your cries of pleasure as Paul spitefully fucks your sweet cunt. The same sweet cunt that is making crude, wet noises, making it impossible not to spill his seed right then and there.
He wants to make sure that you finish too but Paul knows he’s close. He feels the familiar sensation of an orgasm building inside; he knows the feeling all too well because he’s no stranger to masturbation. In fact, he’s spilled his seed onto this very bed many times in the past year. He’s restraining himself, the friction starting to become too much for him - the tight coil wants to snap and he can’t stop thinking about filling your womb with his seed.
He shudders, willing himself to slow down so that you can catch up to him. His thrusting turns tender and he begins to lovingly guide his cock into your body, burying it against your hilt. Paul notices that you like this more because your moans have become guttural, coming from somewhere deep. He does it again, fully burrowing his cock in your velvety walls. They are contracting, practically convincing Paul to spill his seed. He's barely able to resist the temptation.
You seem to be fighting your own demons and reaching for something that you aren’t even sure exists. Certainly, it must because what else is this feeling that has pooled inside your belly? The liquid is hot, near boiling point. Each time Paul thrusts his cock, it hits a spot and it makes your cunt convulse, and your eyes roll back because the stimulation is too much.
Your hands grip Paul’s strong arms, nails digging into his flesh. Paul reaches down between your bodies, fingers fondling your fuzzy little mound as he remains buried inside. He pushes your puffy lips apart and presses your button. It sends a jolt through your body and you bellow out, “Paul!”
He presses his thumb against the sensitive little nub and glides his cock against that spot, and you’re so close - so close. Paul pushes his cock into the depths of your cunt, practically tearing into your womb. His cock quivers against the friction of your walls and he shudders, eyes closing tight while his hand continues to work your clitoris. He wills himself not to cum but it’s useless because, within seconds, he’s shooting his hot, thick load into your tight, breedable cunt.
You cry out, feeling as Paul’s arousal fills you. It’s the thought of Paul impregnating you that causes your orgasm to boil over. Your pussy clenches and convulses with gratification at having the opportunity to give Paul an heir. You cling to him, needing him more than ever as you repeatedly call out his name, prolonging the vowels, “Paaaaauuuul, Paaaauuuul, Paaaauuuulll!”
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Run Wild 2
Find the series masterlist
Transitioning into a pack isn't easy, but you're giving it a try.
Warnings: Swearing, shenanigans, shifter dynamics, pack dynamics, paintball game.
Word count: 2.2k
Eventual Horangi x König x f!reader, established Horangi x König
You weren’t an idiot. You knew that you were more or less under probation as far as Horangi was concerned. He’d be an idiot to immediately accept you into the pack fully, even if he had given you access to the pack room. And he was not an idiot.
So you weren’t surprised when he insisted on running drills with just the three of you. Had to make sure you all actually worked well together, after all.
Running drills with them was… interesting. König and Horangi clearly knew each other well, working seamlessly together. Which left you a little uncertain where you’d even fit in.
Honestly, they were intimidating, in a way you often weren’t. They were big and powerful and ruthless, moving through drills like they’d been working together for years. And maybe they had - you had no idea, and you weren’t going to ask.
Still. A little disheartening.
König found you after the second day of drills, sitting next to you with a little sigh. But he didn’t speak, apparently content to just sit.
Waiting you out. Dammit.
“I know,” you groaned, tipping your head back. “I’m not doing well with this working as a team business. You don’t have to tell me.”
“I didn’t.” König blinked at you, even as you shoved to your feet to start pacing.
“I’m still figuring out how to work with you two,” you continued, hands waving for emphasis. “It’s just… not easy.”
König huffed softly. “We know,” he said, watching you pace. “You are nervous.”
You blew out a sharp breath. As much as you wanted to deny it… he was right. You were nervous working with them, because you didn’t measure up. You didn’t have the experience. Yet.
He slapped his hands on his knees and stood. “Come,” he said, holding your gaze for a moment before he walked out.
You dithered for a moment, debating. And then jogged after him.
“You swim, ja?” He didn’t even glance back at you as he asked.
“Of course.” You frowned at his back, not sure where he was going with this.
“Gut.” He pushed into the pool room, ushering you further in. You were utterly unsurprised to find a tiger in the pool. You were surprised when König ushered you over closer. “Go.”
“What?” You blinked at him, surprised.
He simply made a shooing motion at you.
You looked between him and the tiger, who was lazily watching you now too. Well. If they really wanted you to… do whatever, sure. You could do that. You shrugged and bent to remove your boots, tossing them to the side (more or less out of the way), and then paused to debate. You could strip down your skivvies and jump in, or you could shift and jump in.
Well. Horangi was shifted. You might as well too.
It took only a moment to shift, and you fit easily out of the neck of your shirt. From there it was a short run to the edge of the pool, and you immediately dove in.
You’d almost forgotten how nice it was to swim. You dove under the water, doing a couple underwater flips, just for fun.
You surfaced near Horangi, the big cat blinking at you. But he seemed content to simply watch you.
At least until you swam up to him, a little slower now. He lowered his head to sniff you and then nudge you on your way.
Which you would have listened to. Really.
Except it was more fun to duck under the water and investigate his toes. You didn’t even bite him! You just… poked and prodded.
You felt the growl vibrate through the water, and his paw moved to swat you. Too slow - you were already darting away, amused. You surfaced a few feet from him, chittering playfully. His eyes narrowed, muscles coiling before he pounced at you. You dove again, maneuvering faster than him in the water, swimming under his belly to get to the far side of him before popping up again.
Horangi turned when he heard your chitter again, almost taunting him. (Okay. Taunting him a little.) He growled a little and lunged at you again. You dove away from his paws and escaped. This was actually pretty fun.
This time, he didn’t give you any warning. He just lunged. And kept swimming after you, trying to catch you for at least three solid minutes. You swam under and around him, almost literally swimming circles around him.
This was definitely fun.
Finally, he hauled himself out of the pool and shook off vigorously. Meaning all over König where the other shifter had watched from the sidelines. König grumbled and crossed his arms over his chest.
You squeaked and rolled around in the water for a while longer. You really had missed swimming this way. Now if only there was a pond with fish nearby…
Something splashed in the water, catching your attention, and you turned to look. A hand. You swam over carefully, well aware of how small you were. But König merely wiggled his fingers at you.
So you play-attacked him, rolling over under the water to grab his fingers with your paws, teeth very gently closing over the heel of his thumb. He flipped his hand and scooped you out of the water, chuckling at your annoyed hiss.
“See?” he murmured, lifting you up to eye-level, so you clung to his hand, because this was much too high for you holy hell. “Not so bad, hm?”
You squeaked at him until he put you down. Horangi, you finally noticed, was gone, wet paw prints leading to another room. A changing room, probably. Whoops. You ran over to your clothes, shifting back and shoving them on despite still-wet skin.
“What wasn’t so bad?” you asked, pulling your shirt on.
König huffed at you but didn’t answer, simply giving you a little space to get dressed.
At least until Horangi emerged, once again fully dressed and covered. And shoved the larger operator into the pool.
König fell with a squawk, eyes comically wide behind his hood. He landed with an impressive splash.
You were tempted to laugh at him.
Until you realized Horangi was after you next.
You booked it out of there with a startled yelp, not even pausing to retrieve your boots.
Interestingly enough, your boots reappeared beside your bunk at some point before you went to bed. A little damp, but otherwise fine. You eyed them for a moment before you huffed softly, amused.
Training the next day was easier, actually. The three of you were playing a variation of Capture the Flag against another team of three.
The plan was simple. König would act as a distraction as much as he could, Horangi was on overwatch, and you were going to sneak around to do the actual stealing of the flag.
Which shouldn’t be too hard, really. You were smaller than both of them (not surprising considering König’s size) and all but one member of the other team.
Hopefully you’d be sneaky enough.
You three started off on your side of the field, and you took a moment to observe the layout. Dummy buildings and a few water towers separated the two teams, along with various forms of cover. A gutted car sat in the middle of the field, making for a good hiding place if you could get to it.
“Which way are you going?” Horangi stood next to you, paintball gun resting against his chest for now.
“Left,” you decided after a moment. “Around those two buildings, under that tower, then see what else I can use to sneak up to their flag.”
Horangi nodded once. “Keep me updated,” was all he offered, tapping the com in his ear once.
The timer sounded, and you immediately scurried away.
The playing field was larger than you’d first guessed, which was not a problem. Gave you plenty of room to sneak around. You made it past the first four buildings before you even paused, taking in the area. You couldn’t hear anyone around, or see anyone. Good.
You moved forward with a little more caution, crouched a bit to make yourself an even smaller target.
You got lucky that you heard the member of the other team first. You froze, listening to the soft creak of a floorboard. Inside the house just to your right. You breathed in slowly, listening for further clues. Another soft creak and a curse so soft you doubted a human would have heard it.
Good thing you weren’t human.
Lips pulling back in a grin, you lifted your paintball gun, weighing your options. There was a window just above you that would allow you to get a good shot, but you’d only have one chance.
Then again, chances were they were looking interior. König was not exactly being quiet.
You took the chance, popping up through the window. You were right - he wasn’t facing you. So you popped him in the back twice, bright green splashes exploding against the back of his vest.
He turned around and then groaned when he spotted you. “Dead,” he reported to his team, nearly pouting.
You grinned, amused. “Sorry not sorry,” you chirped before continuing on your way. You had thirty seconds before he could report his position. You did radio in the “kill” to Horangi.
“Good,” he murmured, low and not quite purring. The approval sent a little thrill down your spine. “Keep going, you’re clear as far as I can see.”
“Copy.” You could just see where their flag was now, out in the open. You paused at the edge of the last building, looking around. There were spots someone could set up to watch the flag and shoot anyone approaching.
But that was a risk you’d have to take.
You crept forward a few steps, listening, gaze darting around. Nothing. A few more steps. Still nothing.
Maybe you were getting lucky.
You jogged forward to grab the flag, the velcro letting you easily tug the flag to you.
“Flag acquired,” you told the other two over comms, jogging back to cover. “Heading back to base.”
“I’ve got eyes on one,” Horangi rumbled.
“I do not,” König murmured. “But I will.”
Briefly, you wondered what the big shifter had in mind. Then you shrugged. You might well find out.
You were halfway back to base when you heard the footsteps behind you. Acting on instinct, you threw yourself around a corner. A paintball exploded on the corner you’d just run around, blue paint splashing into view.
“Got one on my tail,” you said into comms, flat out booking it now, darting between and through buildings to break sight lines. The fewer chances you gave him to shoot at you, the better.
“I see him,” König replied, something bloodthirsty in his voice. “Come to the center.”
You didn’t object, just jumped through a window. Now you could see him, paintball gun up, gaze focused past you. You ran straight for him.
“Drop.” The command was low, and you didn’t even think. You obeyed. You hit the ground, mere feet from König. There were three puffs as he shot, skidding, and then a groan.
“Dead,” came the voice of the other team.
König huffed a victorious noise, and before you could even get up he had scooped you up. The way his eyes crinkled gave you the impression he was grinning under the hood.
“Go,” he said, setting you on your feet more gently than you expected. “I will follow you.”
You blinked at him, just once, before you nodded. You set off at a jog, his longer legs keeping up with you easily.
“Heads up.” Horangi sounded almost bored on the comms, and you glanced up, wary. Just in time to see him make a leap from the water tower, farther than you’d guessed he could jump, rolling onto the roof of a building below. Without missing a beat, he rolled off the roof and landed on his feet, cat-like, shooting the last member of the other team through a window.
You hadn’t even seen her on the other side of the building.
Your jaw dropped. “Holy crap,” you breathed, a little in awe. His glasses weren’t even askew.
“Hurry up,” he called, still bored.
“They’re all dead though,” you pointed out, walking towards him.
His mask twitched, smirk clear in his voice when he said, “We’re adding insult to injury.”
You laughed, delighted, and nearly skipped back to the flagpole to attach your captured flag. König rumbled a laugh, pleased, while Horangi simply patted the top of your head.
“Good job,” he murmured, and you gave yourself a moment to bask in the approval from the alpha. Not quite your alpha, not yet, but you had a feeling you were a little closer now.
That feeling was only amplified when the two of them found you after dinner and pulled you into the pack room to watch a movie.
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Wait, Little Rabbit! (Part 5)
fluff, angst, smut
Bunny Hybrid (Fem) Reader x Human Seokjin x Dog Hybrids Jimin and Hoseok x Cat Hybrid Yoongi x Wolf Hybrids Namjoon, Taehyung, & Jungkook
NSFW. 18+
Part 1 > Part 2 > Part 3 > Part 4 > Part 5 > Part 6
Summary: You, a meek little bunny hybrid, find family amongst six predator hybrids and their lovely human caretaker.
Warnings: group sex but like they are all taking turns with y/n, y/n goes into heat, heats hurt until they are taken care of, a little bit of crying, mentions of birth control methods, vaginal fingering, vaginal penetration, throatfucking, Joon’s control kink, heavy d/s dynamics, slight breeding kink even though y/n is on birth control, slight voyeurism, predator/prey dynamics in a sexual context, abandonment issues
____
The morning is calm, with Seokjin teaching you how to make coffee with the new drip coffee maker he bought. You focus in on his hand movements, watching with fascination as the coffee filters down into the pot. As much as you wish you liked the taste of black coffee, like all the men in the house do, you know that you’ll be pouring your weight in sugar and creamer into your cup.
“My heat is coming up” the words come out shy and unsure. Telling Seokjin such a private matter feels very different than telling your former eighty-four-year-old female caretaker. It can’t be helped that your cheeks turn red, even while your eyes are on the coffee. His movements have stopped though, as he’s put the kettle down to give you full attention.
“How close?”
“Two days”
“How would you like to spend it?”
“I was thinking of asking Jimin and Hobi” you grow redder with each response, but the man just gives a casual nod.
“That’s what I would’ve suggested as well. Do you have any preferences on birth control? I’ve never cared for a female hybrid before, so I’m not sure what to prepare.”
“I, um, I have a chip in my arm” you notice his surprise, “my old caretaker helped me get it.”
“Well, then that’s taken care of. Anything else you need? If you give me a list of your favorite snacks and drinks I can stock them up in the outside room. I like to make sure you guys have enough to recharge during your heats.”
Your heart swells up at just how attentive Jin can be. You could’ve never imagined having a male caretaker in the past; every female hybrid you knew had one bad experience or another with them. Even the most decent ones didn’t feel approachable for such topics—but here you were, with the nicest human male you’ve ever had the fortune of meeting. You can’t help but jump up for a hug, your previous shyness fading away. He chuckles as he holds you in place, heart hurting because of your adorableness.
As the day goes by, you notice the hybrids acting different around you. It starts off subtle, with them zoning out when you come near or eyes lingering on certain body parts that they’ve been too much of gentlemen to stare at before. Namjoon’s the one that addresses the atmosphere first, “y/n…by any chance, is your heat tonight?”
You look at the wolf with confusion, “No, it’s the day after tomorrow.”
They all look at each other, eyebrows raised. “Your pheromones are going crazy bun, are you one hundred percent sure it’s that far away? Maybe you should sleep in the extra room starting tonight.”
To everyone’s surprise, you don’t obediently nod to the Alpha. Instead, you thump your feet and puff out your chest as stubbornly as you know how. “But it’s not for another two days! That’s unfair! I think I know my heats better than anyone else.”
Now, with any other hybrid in the house, Namjoon would be standing firm with his suggestion. However, he’s extra cautious when it comes to you—not wanting to seem like he’s once again belittling your autonomy as a prey hybrid. So, he concedes.
“Okay bun, you know what’s best for you.”
___
“What’s with him?” Taehyung asks upon seeing his usually-laid-back Yoongi hyung visibly tense.
“Eunwoo’s back in town. He’s asked to have dinner with Yoongi and I. He’s just a bit nervous but he’ll be alright. Right Yoongs?”
The cat hybrid lets out an unconvincing yes, brows still furrowed in worry.
“Eunwoo?” You inquire, and Jungkook fills in the gaps.
“Eunwoo hyung is Yoongi’s former caretaker. He was friends with Jin hyung in college and asked him to take Yoongi in when he joined the military.”
“He’s back for a couple days before he’s deployed again.” Jin further explains.
You nod, still a little confused on why Yoongi looks so on edge but deciding it best to not prod further.
“Joonie, take this” Jin says, handing the wolf a credit card, “since both Yoongi and I will be gone, and we can’t be sure the kitchen won’t burn down with just you guys. Order whatever you like.” Namjoon rolls his eyes at the remark, smiling nonetheless.
“I vote tacos” Jimin enthusiastically chimes in. His hybrid counterpart, Hoseok, laughs along, tuning into the conversation while keeping his main focus on Yoongi—stroking the cat hybrid’s back gently the entire time. Yoongi leans into the touch, grateful for Hoseok’s calming presence. Hoseok doesn’t leave Yoongi’s side until the moment Jin has to separate them to get Yoongi out the door, even then the dog hybrid doesn’t miss the chance to help Yoongi put his collar on.
With the two of them alone for the car ride, Jin attempts to soothe the cat’s nerves.
“He really misses you, you know that? The first thing he asked me was how you were doing.”
“Well if he cared that much, he shouldn’t have left.”
The rest of the ride is silent and stiff. Before long, Yoongi finds himself sitting opposite of the man he dreaded seeing. At the very least, Jin is still beside him, holding his hand under the table. Yoongi attempts to hide behind the restaurant menu, but Eunwoo earnestly speaks up.
“What about the ravioli for you, Yoongi? You love ravioli, don’t you?”
The cat hybrid doesn’t dare make eye contact, but his tone is ice cold. “Not anymore. Grew out of it.”
Jin nervously cracks a joke to ease the tension but hurt is evident on Eunwoo’s face. The dinner continues on with the two humans catching up while the cat hybrid picks at his meal. It’s when Jin excuses himself to go to the restroom when the tension is at an all-time high.
“Yoongi, will you please at least look at me? I know I’m not your caretaker anymore, but I’m still trying my best to be a part of your life. Please don’t shut me out.”
It’s the first time that night that Yoongi meets eyes with the man.
“You don’t get to be a part of my life after you dumped me onto someone else.”
Eunwoo’s heart further cracks at the biting remark, coming from the hybrid who used to look at him with hearts in his eyes.
“Leaving you was the hardest decision I’ve ever made”
“Then why’d you do it?”
“Because I had to! Because I was lost Yoongi, and everyday you were with me I was reminded of how I couldn’t do anything for you. You were behind on vaccines because I couldn’t afford them! You couldn’t go to hybrid parks because I didn’t have time to take you! My life was a mess and I felt so selfish for making you go through all of that because of me. The army really straightened me out, gave me the direction I so badly needed—but you and I both know how miserable the hybrids on base are. This is the best thing I could possibly do for you.”
“But I missed you.” Yoongi tries to hold back a choked sob, but tears roll down his cheeks at a faster pace than he can wipe them off. Without a second to spare, his old caretaker is taking the seat besides him, wiping away the tears.
“I missed you too. I’m so sorry it turned out this way, but you’re happy, aren’t you? Jin and all those hybrids, they make you happy, right?”
He nods through the tears, too many emotions all being felt at once.
___
This time the ride back home is much lighter, on both Yoongi and Seokjin.
“You know I like being with you, right hyung? I was never upset that he left me with you.”
“I know Yoongs, you don’t have to worry about me. I know you love us. You also love him, though, and you don’t have to pretend like you’re okay all the time when I can tell you miss him.”
“I just—I thought he’d always be by my side. And then one day he wasn’t. The part that sucks the most is that I am happy now, but I’m worried that this is all temporary too.” He looks out the window, not wanting to voice his fears while looking in Jin’s direction.
“It’s completely valid to have those fears, but I’m not going anywhere Yoongi. Neither are the others. Eunwoo can’t take care of you, but he loves you enough to trust you with someone who can. Someone who will take care of you for the rest of your life.”
Yoongi steals a glance at his caretaker, letting himself believe the words for now. It’s when he’s relaxed more into the seat does the hybrid realize this isn’t the way back home.
“Um Jin, where are we going?”
The man cracks a mischievous smile, eyes still transfixed on the road. “Somewhere that you’ll really like.”
The roads are curvy and uphill, causing the two to swerve with the car on occasion. Yoongi observes the passing buildings with perplexity, not recognizing this as any part of town he’s ever been to. Seokjin keeps his playful air of mystery, looking on amusedly as Yoongi tries to make sense of his surroundings. The car stops into an unfamiliar driveway, the driveway of a house that leans miles high over them—tall and wide frame dauntingly casting a shadow.
“C’mon kitty” is all the older man says before getting out the door and walking to the front door, all while Yoongi sprawls to not be left behind.
“Hyung, can you tell me now?”
“Look” he points to a sign with bold black letters reading ESTATE SALE.
“You brought me to an estate sale?”
“Yup. I want to spruce up the house but I have no idea where to start. That’s where you, our designated interior design expert, come in.”
Yoongi’s heart jumps in excitement, hands already itching to examine every piece of furniture in the ginormous house. Things up until now have been an emotional roller-coaster, but a few hours here is just what Yoongi needs to decompress—and his caretaker is well aware of that.
___
You’re okay. You keep telling everyone around you that you’re okay. You keep telling yourself that you’re okay. Because frankly, you’ve made too much of a scene not to be. The pride you felt when you stood your ground about your heat cycle is still fresh in your mind. But maybe—just maybe—you’ve been too prideful. Maybe Namjoon has a point. Because right now, as you’re in a cuddle puddle with the dog hybrids and Jungkook in the living room, something snaps. It snaps so roughly, so deliciously, that you feel the wind being knocked out of your lungs. Air feels like a secondary need, second to the pleasure you need to be feeling right now. Everything hurts, your core aches, and you know the universe is mocking you right now. You’ve been so adamant about your heat schedule that you entirely ignored the possibility of going into it early—a common occurrence of when a prey hybrid experiences high stress between cycles. It’s never happened to you before, but it happening now makes perfect sense considering your whole life has been twisted inside out since your last heat. You don’t want to draw attention to it, but the intensity building up inside you has tears threatening to pour. The hybrids with you notice immediately, the scent of the air turning unmistakably more pungent. The salty scent of desire, undeniable pheromones of lust swirling around you—too strong for any of them to act indifferent to.
It's Jimin that takes your face into his hands first, startled expression as he sees the pain in your eyes. “Bun…you’re in heat…” His voice is on edge, not expecting this nor knowing what to do. His rational brain would take you to the outside room immediately, but your pheromones are hazing that rationality in all three hybrids. Yoongi was the only hybrid that’s ever helped a prey through heat—the others are nowhere near equipped to handle just how strongly the heat pheromones affect predator hybrids in particular.
“Please help” you cry out, voice breaking in the process.
The words mixed with your scent send the dog hybrids into a primal frenzy. Jimin kisses you hard, sucking on your lips in a manner that’ll no doubt leave them bruised after. Hoseok is tearing your clothes off, as well as losing his own. The youngest hybrid is the only one who stills in hesitance. The dog hybrids are no strangers to taking care of your needs, but Jungkook has never had you in that way before. As high as your scent has him, he still keeps a distance, unsure if you even want him to help you through your heat. He feels guilty even looking—no, ogling—at your nude form right now. The curve of your perky ass, the stiff peaked nipples that top your breasts, your already glistening cunt; every detail he tries to commit to memory, scared he’ll never be able to see it again. He watches with tense posture as Hoseok slides two fingers into your cunt with ease, with you begging for more. He continues watching as Hoseok fucks three long digits all the way into your cunt while Jimin takes your mouth with equal ferocity. You’re beyond the point of forming coherent sentences, heat making you cock dumb and only able to beg. It’s when one of your hands reach towards Jungkook that he stops being just a spectator; Jimin’s cock has you unable to talk, but your eyes and hand motions do well to plead the wolf hybrid to join.
“A-are you sure bun?”
You let go of Jimin’s cock with a pop sound, taking a moment to catch your breath before answering.
“Please Kook…need you…need your cock…please” The words “please” keep falling from your lips like a mantra, in rhythm with Hoseok’s fingers pumping you good.
The oldest dog hybrid is used to taking charge, which makes things a lot easier for everyone in this moment. “You heard her Kook. Our desperate little bun needs your cock. Are you going to deny a poor bunny in heat?”
The wolf shakes his head instantly, doing well to strip out of his all-black clothing. He stands bare, cock straight up and yearning to be inside of you, but even your exquisite pheromones can’t make Jungkook forget his pack hierarchy.
“Joon hyung…I need his permission.”
That’s when a low snicker intrudes the moment between the four of you. You all turn your heads to the wolves’ bedroom door, where Namjoon and Taehyung are standing with hyperfocused vision.
“My little beta never forgets his manners, does he?” The Alpha quips, looking proud. The other beta watches with lust-filled pupils, hiding behind his Alpha as if your scent is something dangerous.
“please…need all of you…it hurts” your trying your best to plead, but Jimin’s assault on your throat makes the words come out raspy. Speaking of the youngest dog hybrid and his cock, he pushes it right back down your throat again. This isn’t like the other time he’s been in your mouth, when he was gentle and had all the patience in the world—right now, he’s a creature of instinct, and his instinct is to breed your mouth.
Namjoon makes his way to the loveseat adjacent from the couch, getting the perfect view of everything. Taehyung follows close by but stops at the couch rather than the loveseat: your scent intoxicating him.
“Go on, I want to see both of my betas stuff that tight little cunt.”
Taehyung’s eyes go wide, and Jungkook thanks his lucky stars that his Alpha is not in a denying mood. If Namjoon is affected by your pheromones, he’s doing a damn good job showing restraint—opting instead to sit back in a commandeering position with his large hand palming over his sweats.
Hoseok helps the Alpha’s command come to fruition, taking his fingers out and gripping your thighs open as invitation for the betas. Jungkook doesn’t waste a single second, plunging into your heat like a possessed man. You gag around Jimin at the sudden intrusion, and the dog hybrid takes himself out to let you adjust for a second. Just for a second, though, because he’s back in your mouth in no time. Jungkook’s head is thrown back in ecstasy, guttural moans spilling with each heavenly thrust inside of you. No one can tell exactly when Taehyung loses all of his clothes, but it’s not long before the other beta is holding his cock in hand, waiting impatiently to feel you.
“Kook, don’t be greedy. Let Tae have a turn.”
“Yes Alpha” his words are readily obedient, but it takes the wolf a lot of willpower to keep from diving back into you.
Taehyung takes full advantage of his turn, getting fully lost in both your cunt and your scent. That’s why he’s also struggling when Namjoon orders another switch. The two betas fuck you like that for a while, taking turns controlled by their Alpha as Hoseok keeps your legs open and Jimin keeps your mouth busy.
It doesn’t help that every time Jimin lets you breathe, you use the time to beg the words “harder” and “more.” The words only egg Jimin on, making him fuck you even harder until he’s emptied his seed deep down your throat.
Jungkook is the first to fill your cunt up, and Taehyung is second (both with the Alphas permission, of course). Hoseok succumbs to temptation and sinks into your cum-filled folds too, leaving his big load in there as well. Without your mouth occupied, screams of pleasure fill the house in no time. It’s during Hoseok’s turn when you get your first orgasm, no doubt because of his skilled movements on your clit. Your high hits as fast and hard as your heat, making every cell in your body ascend in pleasure. It takes a minute for the aftershocks to subside, your legs gradually slowing down in their shaking—as well as the rest of your body. It’s all too much and not nearly enough at the same time: the orgasm leaving you breathless, but your libido still crying out for more. You look at the Alpha, still showing immense restraint, eyes picking you apart alone. His gaze is taunting, and you’ve lost all pride to not give in.
“Joon, please fuck me” it’s the most coherent you’ve been since your heat hit, but you know you need to string a sentence or two together to get the Alpha’s approval. “need you so bad Alpha. Need your cock so bad it hurts.”
He doesn’t say anything back, just cocks an eyebrow at you like he’s expecting something. Like you should know what to do right now. Your mind is cluttered and horny and your grasping at straws to figure out what he’s expecting. You’ve already begged…oh. You’ve only begged. His words from before ring clear in your otherwise hazy mind.
“If you want me, you’ll have to kneel and beg first.”
With no explanation to the other hybrids, you half-fall-half-crawl off the couch, away from their hands on you. They all watch the mixture of cum drip down your thighs, cunt practically slobbering over the couch and carpet as you make your way down. You look right into the Alpha’s eyes, knowing this is what he’s asking for as you crawl over—unable to walk even if you wanted to. It’s when your right in front of the loveseat do you stop, giving him one last pleading look before ducking your head to meet his feet. You let your head fall onto his feet in complete submission.
“Please fuck me Alpha” you get out in your most desperate tone yet.
The Alpha’s smirk grows tenfold.
“Gladly, little prey.”
____
A/N: Thank you guys for waiting patiently as my health recovered and I could put this part out! As always, I’m overwhelmed in the best way with your enthusiasm for the series. The people that comment and reblog especially make me so motivated to write!! As of right now, the next part is planned to be the final. What I have planned for it feels like a natural conclusion to the series. It will be out much quicker than this one for sure!
Taglist: @osakis-gf @strawberrysweetness @yoongiigolden @welcometomyworld13 @xjiminsthighsx @btsiguess-kpop @kirakombat @iheartsvt @pb-n-juju @shabbamadapot @bxcndd @se-oul @mageprincess7 @xoxo-jeans @effielumiere @mrcleanheichou @seajae @uarmyhore @strxwbloody @aquasan29 @sinceritythatcouldntbedelivered @bontensbabygirl @katskeigo @lucymultistan
**It won’t let me tag some blogs, idk why. If you asked to be on the taglist but tumblr won’t let me tag you then I will be DMing you when each part is up!
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Stede in Season 1
After seeing some rather awful bad faith takes flying around after 2x7, I'm throwing out a beginning defense of Stede Bonnet (loml). It seems insulting Ed's fish is the worst thing that anyone has ever seen, and it really seems to be a continuation of anti-Stede sentiments within the fandom and viewing him as a prop for Ed (and sometimes Izzy) rather than his own character. Fanon Stede is ever patient, ever kind, ever devoted to his partner, and I'm seeing a lot of shock that Stede is a flawed, imperfect person with his own needs, that he says things in the heat of the moment, that people are seeing a less interesting character than what DJenks and friends have created. Stede's a fucking lunatic and I like it.
I'm going to break this into a few posts as I ramble on to the end of 2x7. I have big thoughts on the ending, but I need to lead up to it! I am going to try to be as brief as I can up to the lead up, but I'm not happy with certain parts of the fandom right now (it's just a spat, love you all).
(If you haven't seen the "I hate Stede!" and "I'm so mad at Stede!" posts after 2x7, I am so, so jealous of how you have curated your social media experience.)
Part 1: Season 1
I'm going to note first that this is really a more rambly companion piece of this:
In time budgeting, most of Stede's character introduction and motivations are built into 1x1 through 1x3, but you all know it is a common refrain of these episodes: "Just wait for episode 4!" (OK for newbies, but huge side eye from me with people who have watched multiple times.) Episode 4 is when Act 2 of 3 of Season 1 begins. The foundations of the story have been laid, the cast has been fully assembled, and we enter the rising action (i.e., the meat) of the story in 1x4. It is not that Blackbeard alone improved everything: it was the story structure itself that shifted.
Preferring Act 2 (ep 4 to mid ep 8) and saying Act 1 was bad and "boring" is a disservice to the story and really robs yourself of the payoff action in Act 3 of Season 1 (and now Season 2), in particular with regards to Stede's character. It's a TV show, so you don't have to like all parts or watch it equally, but if you're going to criticize Stede and what he does, you can't ignore the part of the story that tells you the why of everything.
For example, we see people saying Prince Ricky is "exactly how Stede used to be!". Episode 3 disagrees.
Ricky is some Evil Star Trek Mirror Universe version of Stede, and they have fundamental differences in their view of piracy, which feeds into the action of the tail end of Season 2: Stede wants to be part of the piracy world, but Ricky thinks he's above it. The few hours in 2x7 that Stede spends enjoying being cool in the Republic of Pirates is overall sweet (sliding past the murder, lol), not a relationship red flag or Stede being a dick. If you tried to join a group and they finally embraced you, how would you initially act? Being excited for a few hours does not mean Stede has made a forever commitment to piracy and not Ed.
But, I digress. To me, Episode 2 (along with 6, 9, and 10) is far and away the peak of Season 1. We see the crew bonding (and those unique interactions are missing in Season 2's truncated runtime), and we get a deeper look into Stede's head: his initial naivety toward violence, his insecurities, his unique captaincy style and problem solving. If I look at just his insecurities, Badminton's Ghost is Stede talking to himself (like Hornigold was vocalizing Ed's feelings in 2x3). Stede is harsh with himself about his abilities and maturity, and we even see that he took Badminton's petty body shaming in 1x1 to heart.
(Oh, I have thoughts on Stede finally being told he's pretty and then instantly dumped!)
But he continues to degrade himself.
"You're a child with a toy" Stede says to himself. Compare this to Ned Low calling him a "bumbling amateur" in 2x6. Real people voicing these thoughts (like Chauncey in 1x9) messes Stede up.
The local therapist clearly lays out the motivation behind 1x9&10, and Stede still continues with the negative self talk.
And then we get the best mantra!
Yes, baby! You can only be as good as you can be, and you deserve the world.
Stede does not banish his guilt that is haunting him, but Ed comes in at Episode 4, and any more serious feelings is all about Ed.
(Second GIF is a joke. I know it's important to Ed's character. Plz, don't be mad.)
Ed is the deuteragonist, and the story now needs to spend time establishing Ed's character and motivations. This doesn't make Stede's go away, but if you only watch Episode 4 and on, that's what it looks like. There are brief moments of Stede's vulnerability and guilt from then, but not much.
(Side note from a Midwesterner: I've spent too much time finding out if "grain tower" is colloquial for "grain silo" somewhere, and I still don't know.)
Ed and Stede just met here. Ed isn't absorbing much of Stede's comments (Stede also feels trapped, Stede has family guilt, etc), but it goes the other way, too, doesn't it? Stede is recovering from his gut-stab, they're still in a life-or-death situation, and Stede is still feeling his guilt (and just saw more guilt ghost hallucinations). Registering and internalizing what Ed is saying doesn't take priority.
And they enter their cute early relationship phase: They have fun together! They can easily talk to one another! Stede easily forgives Ed wanting to kill him!
Again: in between all the cute and fun, all the heavy stuff is about Ed. Stede deals with the aristocrats who mocks Ed. Stede is gentle with Ed's red fabric. Stede listens to Ed's past without judgment. Stede openly accepts Ed as a friend. We don't see Ed engaging with Stede in a reciprocal manner.
(I was so delighted when Stede called some of this out in 2x4.)
Stede is a few steps behind in their relationship: He doesn't know it's a romance. He doesn't know he was flirting with Ed. He's not immediately understanding what the Act of Grace was to Ed (hubby commitment!) as he's having his Nigel guilt, family guilt, and being seconds away from death swamping him all at once.
In the academy, Ed isn't even listening to Stede. He's moved onto his domestic marriage role while Stede is dealing with his demons.
With 2x7, I see people saying, "Ed was very clear in wanting to leave piracy!" If he was speaking to someone fully engaged with him, I would agree. (That also doesn't make Stede having a few hours' fun the worst thing ever.)
(Aside of what I see below: In Season 2, I see overwhelming praise of Ed and Izzy's performances and very little on Stede. This is not to disparage TW or CO, but Ed and Izzy are more in-your-face and obvious with what is going on internally in their scenes and they are nailing the drama scenes. However, Stede becomes quieter, shutting down into himself, when having high feelings, and RD's acting is very subtle and very beautiful in these moments.)
In The (First) Kiss scene, Ed is clear! He just wants to be Ed, and Ed is happy just being with Stede.
But look what Ed walked in on:
Ed is saying things, but Stede is trying to process big feelings of his own at the same time. Stede is there self soothing, still thinking about what Ed ignored him about in the bunks. "How are you handling things so well?" means Stede isn't handling it well. Ed is excited, but he (and apparently some of the audience!) is brushing off all of what Stede is saying while expecting Stede to take to heart everything that Ed is saying. (I mean, the beginning of S2 shows why Ed is so excited for this life change, but it is frustrating!)
If you only feel bad for Ed at the end of 1x9, please try to imagine Stede's perspective: suppose you have low self worth and are consumed with guilt about people you've hurt and then are seconds away from death twice, are you going to be thinking clearly and prioritizing (and recognizing) the feelings of a guy you've known for a few weeks and didn't know you were dating?
Stede has drawn inward this whole conversation. His answers turn monosyllabic, and his body language turns more and more panicy as the heavy reality of everything sets in.
Stede enjoyed The Kiss, but was this the appropriate time for him? (Like Ed enjoyed The Sex, but was that the appropriate time for him?) They aren't in sync yet, but that doesn't make one party's feelings more valid than the other's or one party evil for being a bit ahead.
With 2x7, I don't know why people thought Stede should be a mind reader and be able to quickly piece together a few statements Ed made while Stede was mentally drowning.
I think it should be noted that as of the end of 2x7, Stede is the only crew member who hasn't had mental reflection and/or therapy in Season 2. He realized Mary, Alma, and Louis didn't need him and he was in love with Ed in 1x10, but the voice calling him a child with a toy, an idiot, weak, and ugly is still there.
Continued in Part 2! (Still to come...)
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Author’s note: This entire idea belongs to @bispecsual , who snapped my ass like Thanos with it at 3am. My eyes might’ve been burning, but I saw the light with this message.
Relationships: unnamed Lamenter/Gn!Reader
Warnings: You could say it’s a lilllll lewd, Blood/vampire kink stuff, Bruising
He looks so large even without his armor. He’s managed to find a moment of time to spend with you now that his round of duty is over, though he had to wake you up to do it. You don’t mind, but you can tell in his face that there’s something gnawing at him.
“You’re hungry,” You suddenly blurt out, looking up at him. He looks at you and his eyebrows raise with surprise, but he doesn’t deny it. He looks away briefly when you offer yourself once again.
“I’ve waited longer, I won’t so soon after the last time.”
You shift under the blankets to look more towards him.
“You don’t have to wait, it’s fine.”
He’s beating himself up in his head, you can tell. Berating his lack of restraint. You know from experience he fights it until he’s right at the edge of the cliff, and only then does he dare to ask. But you feel fine, and helping him is the least you can do. The Lamenters have done so much for you; He’s done so much for you.
“I’m fine. If you need it, take it.”
It seems the battle in his mind only concludes with your gentle insistence, and he moves closer to you. You watch as he slowly crawls onto the bed and his hand presses down by your shoulder. His gaze is intense and you can’t help but look away, exposing your neck at the same time.
He can see the little marks where he bit the last time, on their last few days of healing. As he leans in his hot breath brushes over them, as does his lips. He hesitates for a moment, and you think he might pull away, before he finally sinks his teeth in right below your ear.
The blanket shifts up your bare legs to your hips as your legs kick, landing just below your underwear. His knee presses down between your thighs precariously close to their apex.
His teeth shift in your neck and your fingers tighten on his shoulder from the twinge of pain, but his weight holds your upper body completely still. He doesn’t want you to move even an inch and risk hurting you.
You swear you can hear his hearts, his tongue lapping against your neck and wiping away the tiny beads of blood before he moves to bite again at your collarbone.
It tastes incredible. He’s been starving, his last mission ran him ragged, in his armor for 2 weeks with barely any rest, and your blood is like the finest wine. He’s never tasted wine, but he supposes must taste incredible, as your tone of voice had implied.
His eyes want to close, he wants to get lost in its but he knows he has to stop. It’s still so soon after the last time he bit you, he know he can only take enough to satisfy him for now. So that gnawing can finally get shoved to the back of his mind just for a little while.
You’ve already been so generous, he doesn’t want to wear it out. To take advantage of your rare kindness. He pulls away sees the bruising wounds of your neck, as he glances down at your inner thigh. He sees the fading marks of bites there, where he thought they’d cause you less pain. It caused something else however, and he vows not to do so again unless he can fulfill you afterwards.
He slowly lowers again until his head lays against your chest. Your fingers wrap in the short, messy chop of his hair. Your eyes are closed, but you still talk to him.
“I’m fine,” You whisper, knowing why he’s doing this. The assurance that you’re still alive and well. That he didn’t go too far this time. But sometimes you wonder if he’s becoming unhealthily attached to you. He depends on you in a way oddly enough; With his curse gnawing at him like a never-ending sickness. He’s implied before that his superiors might do something about it if he can’t keep it under control. If this saves him, then you’ll do whatever you can to protect him mentally while he physically protects you.
Because you’re the only thing that cures him; Your blood satiates the hunger and your presence makes him feel alive. The warmth of your skin against his own. The sound of your heartbeat fills him with relief that you’re fine, he didn’t lose himself for a moment.
“How can I repay you for your kindness?” He speaks quietly. You laugh.
“You don’t have to do anything.” He leans close to you and you can feel his nose barely brush against your own.
“I should. There are not many who would willingly give their blood to feed the Red Thirst.” You smile and your hand lands on the scarred skin of his arm.
“I don’t mind, as long as it’s you.”
A brief moment crosses his mind at the idea of another Lamenter biting your neck- of being this close to you. His hand clenches just a bit before he swallows that feeling of rage and leans just that little bit closer to you, pressing his lips to yours.
You lean into him, ignoring the ache in your neck and tasting iron on his lips.
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mark as… 💭 / your college friend !? ⊹◞✿
your first ever lecture being anthropology, out of all options, was pretty much chaotic and a really humbling experience
you kind of felt lost?? with the lecturer throwing in some of his own antics, with a little too much of little pop culture doses
i mean, he was trying??? talking about batman all of a sudden, comparing a pretty much real theory to his logo or something
(not that you didn’t mention that during that really crazy one on one oral exam… BUT STILL?)
now that’s how you got to know mark lee
i mean, not during the exam, waaaay before that – the first lecture, being just as confused as you, he was.. probably trying to look for someone who was taking notes (preferably good ones at that)
and that’s when your eyes met his!
i guess the panic was so evident in the look you gave him, he just.. couldn’t help but laugh loud asf at your CONFUSED face
i mean, if it was the other way round, you would’ve laughed as well, what can i say..
but still, you had to whisper shout at him (which was weird in the middle of the lecture, being literal meter away from each other) ?? telling him to stop the shenanigans or else you’ll throw hANDS!!!????
(you ended up not doing that – you decided his face was too cute… yeah… pathetic…)
anyways… he literally waited !!!!!!! for you not so far from the lecture hall after it was finished and.. he kind of just??? approached you when he saw you exiting, face representing the Thousands of questions you were left behind
i mean, he felt the same kinda–
but anyways, it was quite.. awkward when you two first interacted. he didn’t really know what to say, you couldn’t really respond to him since all he could muster out was
well.. it sounded stupid
(because he was nervoussssss–i mean, who wouldn’t be when they are trying to hit on a pretty girl like you.. DUH?)
he ended up asking for your notes though.. but it was strategic, you know???
you gotta slide into his dms that way!!!!!! so he can try again!!!!!! (a little bit harder maybe idk)
i mean, you agreed but had a suspicious look while nodding, still trying to figure out his intentions
it really wasn’t clear honestly, he seemed so weird at first, and then he was friendly, offering help around the campus, and then suddenly he wanted to chat???
YOU HAD EYES OF COURSE. even at the omnious, freaking awful freshmen camp you couldn’t spot anyone that looked even half as good as him
but still…
he had that kinda “pretty boy next door” type of vibe which you honestly adored–probably that’s why you agreed on going to that party as well, he invited you to
it was silly of you, of course, and you couldn’t not notice the confused looks of your dormmate
you two knew each other for like.. 2 days and she was suddenly acting like your mother
“ughhh… that dude, you know, that johnny fella has that kind of reputation on campus…”
WHO THE FUCK IS JOHNNY!!!!!!!??????
“he’s a compsci major” she said, shrugging
“that’s literally where the fuckboys are at”
you were like What.. are yoU EVEN SAYING LMFAO
(every compsci major dude i’ve ever seen was a loser though… ?)
where she got that information???OUT OF HER ASS????
later on, like two days had to pass at most???? maybe just one and a half??? and she got invited as well–some chenle dude and her went to the same seminar and things just happened
not her opinion changing.. lol
but it was set now that you two are going together! mostly because she knew you don’t have any friends so.. she might as well help you out–that’s the least she can do after you two changed beds
she kind of made you out to be a loser that way.. like WHAT! YOU HAVE Friends… just
having a major on a different campus.. BUT STILL THE SAME SCHOOL!!!
she was always giving you that weirded tf out look whenever you mentioned it. like okay girl, go off, say whateva lol
but she felt the need to accompany you (GOD BLESS HER TBH)
looking all hot and stuff, you two both paid a visit to the house party which was… honestly pretty boring looking at first
like yeah, just a couple of dudes, not hype enough music either
you expected some kind of shitty techno untz untz music like in those german clubs
those are HYPE. or the eastern european clubs’ music.. elite tier i swear
but you got none of that, only a silly and honestly pretty mid ?? spotify playlist
it’s like giving the aux to someone who only listens to tiktok music like BFFR
right before you were about to leave this horrible gathering, you spotted mark, having a really heated conversation with a Damn Tall boy, snapback on both of their heads
they kind of looked like a couple lmfao OR TWINS
you were hesitant whether you should go and greet him but there was no actual reason that could pull you back
since your roommate literally found someone from her sociology 101 lecture and literally vanished from the surface of earth
Leaving you alone, with a horrible mix of vodka and some other shit you would’ve spit out if only there weren’t too many people
so yeah, there wasn’t any other choice you could’ve made, outside of leaving way too early
that’s how you ended up in the conversation with mark (and, later on you found out, johnny, who wasn’t actually that big of a douchebag your roommate had explained)
it was nice honestly, you got a chance to expose some Drama from high school, you got to talk about your arch nemesis (who attends the same college as you) and some other, unimportant stuff
but they were soooo interested it made you feel??Idk special or something
it really isn’t that frequent that you can shittalk and someone wouldn’t shut you up
and that is why you got back to mark every time–he listened. not only the funny bits of your life, he listened to everything you had to say: your life, school and problems with coursework (he even offered to help), and yeah..
lovelife as well.
you got together with someone from the same major as you–jaehyun.
he was funny, and charming, absolutely adorable and such a great lover??? And then… and then yeah
shit happened, like it always does and you were officialy Heartbroken
you couldn’t really handle it, even though it wasn’t your first time
(in high school, you dated one of the jocks and then got surprised he cheated on you like Dude those are infamous player lmfao…)
so the first person you went to was
your roommate! But she was busy as hell with assignments and exams so she kind of.. I mean she tried to help, but half of her attention was on you, and the other half glued to the monitor of her computer, reading stuff for her research paper
so you went to the second choice of yours–mark lee. but you didn’t mention that fact to him.. it would’ve hurted his heart deeply
you two went to the movies after you raged a little, cried a little into his shoulder and begged him to punch jaehyun in the face
he figured you should focus on something fun, instead of the self deprecating shit you’ve been on lately
and he was Absolutely Fully (ahah!) Truly right
you bought a ticket to the first movie you two saw, not even paying attention what it actually was
(it was a damn horror movie which was So Fucking scary you BOTH were left trembling from fear… pus-)
he used this fact for his own good… he invited you over… to his dorm… since his roommate went home for the weekend…
and the funniest thing is that you agreed, hurriedly messaging your friend, telling her not to wait for you, then ignoring ALL of her furiously typed down responses and calls even
she needed to focus ANYWAYS
so that’s how you ended up in mark’s dorm room… Yeah, yeah yeah
some might say it’s pathetic, some might say you’re dumb as Hell but what could you doooooo
he was looking at you with that extra adorable puppy look on his face… how could you resist
there was no way you could say no, it would’ve been heartless ????????
and you know what would’ve been even MORE heartless?????? Not giving a kiss on his beautiful lips that were literally SCREAMING for yours
It may or may not have been a bad choice but you couldn’t care less… suddenly you felt at ease, kissing him vigorously over and over again
soft hair between your fingers, his breath on your lips and sparkling eyes looking at you
maybe… maybe he was more?? Than a friend
(your roommate was about to slap you right then and there when you told her about the story though…)
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I feel the urge to talk about how often Underverse's 'big bad', XGaster, is called out for not being as big or bad as he seems. Even with all the power he has, he is constantly said to be hiding behind his creations.
Despite all the power he has, and how easily he could dispatch some Sanses (as seen in the 0.4 ending), he continues to hid behind his creations. The ability to overwrite is not the end all be all, which XGaster has learnt from his near death experience during the XTale series.
At the end of it all, Gaster is right. XGaster is scared. Scared of what he doesn't know, what he can't expect. It's why he almost kills Cross in a last ditch effort to keep Fatal away from himself. Why he overwrites all his creation's wills and why he wants Chara and Cross under his control. He's a control freak, and that's been really well established, but I love how each episode further highlights just how little control he has compared to what he implies, and how much fear is accompanied with that.
At the end of the day, he silences Gaster and ignores Fatal. He refuses to respond to either of them. Because Gaster is right, and Fatal is in fact a threat.
I'm in love with the way XGaster is portrayed. He never really changed his methods between Season 1 and 2, always hiding behind someone or something to do his bidding.
It's also interesting how Geno addresses XGaster here. I'm pretty sure how Isolation might have affected XGaster is obvious, but the lines "there are many ways to break free. watch out for which version of yourself will get the job done." is still a bit of a mystery to me.
It's obvious how that applies to Geno, given that 3 versions of him show up in this episode: His normal Aftertale self, Error (who only shows up in flashes in this part of 0.7, but is fully present in part 1) and Fatal Error. All three versions have 'broken free' of something in their own way, be it the isolation and ensuing madness Geno went through, Error going through the same again or Fatal becoming an even bigger glitch after escaping Error.
All in all, can't wait for 0.8. Really enjoying where this is going so far, and now I have the urge to draw Fatal (even though that would be far too much of a pain and quite difficult given my skill rn).
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unnatural bleeding
merfolk au!
previous <- part 2 -> part 3
parings: gaz x reader
chars: gaz, price , soap , ghost
tws: blood, injuries, violence, past abuse, language, slow burn, rude reader.
a/n: sorry if it seems like im rushing i want to have most of the parts be the slow burn rather then the build up again not proof read we ride or die
tags; @chickennn-soupp <3 !
You slept nearly the entire day till you stirred awake at the near by noise of the wood creaking on the dock.
You groaned quietly as you shifted getting ready to pull yourself back into the water the tide had started to come back in and your wounds weren't bleeding much but you couldn't stay here for long anyways.
"What the hell?"
Your thoughts were quickly interrupted by a voice as you quickly turned towards it sort of flinching back slightly you weren't close to the dock at all but it still felt too close.
You've been around humans enough to know a a lot things.
You knew how to read and understand English well enough and speak it too it always amazed them for some reason even though you were always capable at mimicking or learning other languages they always saw you as just a slightly higher intelligent animal.
So you knew a phone when you saw one and you knew what it usually meant to so once they pulled it out without much hesitation you dived back under you were starting to dry out a bit.
"Wait wait!-"
You just ignored them as you swam a good distance away it was too risky for you to linger your injuries still fresh and you haven't the slightest clue to take care of them.
-
When he decided to take a break down at the docks for a quick smoke he did not at all expect to see a fucking Orca mer of all fuckin things the words just slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them.
"What the hell?"
They looked like they'd been threw a blender poor thing, They flinched when he guess they heard his voice staring at him now it was hard to see much of what they looked like but he fished out his phone quickly as he flicked threw his contacts dialing a number only to realized the mer was starting to move.
"Wait wait!-"
He cursed internally as you already slipped into the water just as the phone had picked up.
"Price!"
"Fuckin' hell Garrick pipe down-"
"Ah I know- I know- But It's urgent-"
"I swear Gaz if it's about that dog."
"It's not this time I promise! I got another case on our hands."
-
You had found another set of rocks to rest on messing with a shell you had snagged from a coral bed a ways back but you had snagged some seaweed in a attempt to replicate the way humans would bandage you.
It was messy and barely actually helped but it covered the few wounds you could manage to wrap without pain flaring up.
The sudden urge of hunger came over you realizing you haven't eaten in a while your last meal was when you were fed this morning.
Surely hunting wouldn't be that hard?.
It was not that hard honestly,
If hunting was scaring off some poor saps from there kill was hunting you were lucky they mistook your grizzled appearance as experience and strength rather than weakness.
Because you were most definitely weak as you dug into the poor creatures flesh you couldn't identify what it was as you ate it but you didn't care there wasn't a bad taste and you hadn't keeled over from some toxin so you were alright.
You eventually finished off most of it before leaving the rest there you were full now swimming off to god knows where your wounds didn't stop hurting of course which slowed you down greatly.
You eventually found yourself another place to sleep for the night your wounds would hopefully start doing something other than stay open and risk infection or even tearing worse.
What you didn't expect to be waken up to was the sound of the familiar rumble of a boat that was way too close voices that sounded way to clear you were supposed to be too far out for any human to happen upon you.
You were not in the mood for squeal and the shutter and flash of cameras today as you slinked back under the water and swam off.
What you also failed to expect is for the boat to start following you, You initially thought they got bored and were going to turn there boat back around to shore but of course not they were following you.
You just kept swimming forcing yourself to go faster swimming a bit lower hoping they'd lose you but they didn't.
Familiar dread rose in you panic slightly rising as you kept swimming ignoring the burn and strain you were putting on you wounds.
You didn't want to go back brief flashes of memories obscuring your vision dug up from you subconscious The chase, The shots, And the blood there was so much you couldn't breath you were covered in it.
You blinked away the memories you couldn't lose yourself not now as you took a quick breath and that was your mistake as you felt a sudden sharp pain in your tail crying out as you thrashed turning yourself to try to rip out the dart that had been shot into you it was on the smaller side but sharp enough to pierce threw your thick skin of your tail fin.
Fatigue had already set in as you eventually ripped the thing out the boat had stopped muffle warped voices from above the water as the whirr of a machine came to life.
You couldn't fucking go back not like this they'd kill you or worse, Why would they want you bad you were ruined you weren't young and energetic and naive you didn't have the hope of escape you used too.
You didn't have much time to think of your demise much more as thee was another sharp pain in your back before you fell unconscious.
a/n: woooo new pov ee also how would you guys feel if i dropped the height chart of all characters ? (your much bigger than you think orcas r huge so u being half a orca would make you massive enough :3)
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Strictly Unprofessional - part 2 (alexia putellas x reader)
Summary: You’ve just landed your dream job as a photographer at FC Barcelona Femení. The only problem? You hooked up with the captain five years ago and haven’t seen her since.
Part 2/9
Read other parts here.
———
It doesn’t take long to settle into your new routine at the club. On a typical training day, you spend your mornings outside taking photos of the players on the pitch and your afternoons in the media office editing and sorting through the photos on your computer.
Occasionally there’s something a bit different to do - you have to do photoshoots with a couple of new signings towards the end of the transfer window, plus some work for the club website and shop. You even get to stand in for one of the videographers when he’s off sick and while you’re not as familiar with film work as you are with still shoots, you enjoy the experience. Plus, it’s an entertaining day filming silly challenges with a few of the players for social media.
Your interactions with Alexia are limited and entirely professional. You still haven’t reminded her of the fact you met five years ago in Ibiza, and by now it’s far too late. You keep waiting for her to remember and confront you about it, but she never does.
When the season starts in September, you get to experience your very first away trip as everyone travels to Tenerife for the team’s second game of the new season. Some of the other backroom staff grumble a little bit, especially the older ones who don’t like having to leave their families for the weekend. But you’re young, single, and the closest thing you have to commitments in Barcelona are the houseplants that will surely survive for the two days you’ll be gone. The Barcelona team is starting to feel like a little family to you and a weekend away with them, especially one in sunny Tenerife, doesn’t really seem like work.
But before you get there, you take photos of the players getting on the bus, photos of them getting off the bus, getting on the plane, getting off the plane… and so it goes on. Every moment of the journey is documented and only a fraction of the pictures you’ve taken will ever see the light of day, but the players must be used to it because they hardly seem bothered by the presence of the cameras.
It’s only when you finish your final shoot of the day - the players arriving at the hotel - that you get to relax.
“So, your first away trip, huh?” Mapi asks you, as she stands behind you in the queue in the hotel’s dining hall that evening. She’s one of many players who has been friendly since you started this job. “How are you finding it?”
“Tiring,” you admit, because you’ve been on your feet all day with barely a moment to rest. “But good. I got some cute photos of you and Ingrid on the plane.”
“I don’t remember seeing you taking any.”
“That’s because you were asleep.”
“No!” Mapi pouts. “You paparazzi’d me?”
“It’s my job,” you grin at her with a shrug.
“Can I at least see?”
“I’ll show you in a bit.”
You load your tray up with food, then as you start to walk towards a table where some of the other staff are sitting, Mapi catches your elbow with her hand.
“Come and sit with us,” she says, steering you towards a table where a few of the players are already eating. “We’re allowed to mix.”
Mapi sits down in an empty chair next to Ingrid and you take the seat opposite, more than aware of Alexia’s presence at the other end of the table, though she’s deep in conversation with Patri and Aitana and doesn’t seem to notice you.
“Show me the pictures then,” Mapi says, almost as soon as you’re sitting down.
Your camera bag is still slung across your body and you unzip it to take out the camera, loading up the photos you took today and scrolling through until you reach the ones you took on the plane.
“Here,” you say, angling the camera to show Mapi the photos.
There are a few of her and Ingrid, all with Mapi’s eyes closed and her head resting on Ingrid’s shoulder. In the later photos, Ingrid has spotted the camera and poses with a smile and a peace sign while Mapi sleeps through.
“Oh, those are cute,” Ingrid says, leaning over to look at the camera screen.
“Do I always sleep with my mouth open?” Mapi asks Ingrid.
“Sometimes.”
Mapi’s complaints have caught the attention of the rest of the girls at the table, Alexia included, and soon they’re all asking to see the photos.
“See, Mapi, this is why you should never fall asleep when there are cameras around,” interjects Alexia.
Mapi rolls her eyes as she gives your camera back and says, “Little Miss Media Training over there is always camera ready.”
“Oh, I’ve probably got some bad ones of her too,” you grin, sparing a glance at Alexia to test her reaction.
“Really?” Alexia asks, her eyes going wide.
“Show me!” Mapi says gleefully.
You scroll through the hundreds of photos you took today until you get to some of Alexia waiting to get on the bus from the airport to the hotel and click through them more slowly.
“She looks perfect,” Mapi comments as you show her each photo in turn. “Perfect, perfect. Come on, there has to be one bad photo of Alexia - aha!”
Mapi’s triumphant cry comes when she sees a picture of Alexia with her mouth twisting upwards as if she’s about to laugh, but you move onto the next picture which is the real gem. Alexia is about to get on the bus with Patri but both girls are laughing, Alexia with her eyes closed and cheeks half-puffed out as she struggles to contain her laughter.
“Let me see!” Alexia says, getting to her feet and circling the table until she’s standing beside you to get a better look. You angle to screen of your camera so she can see and she lets out a groan, before saying, “You have to delete it.”
“But only after sending me a copy,” interjects Mapi, still full of glee.
“Relax,” you reassure Alexia. “It’s not going on social media. Anyway, I don’t think it’s a bad photo.”
“Easy for you to say,” Alexia says, as she returns to her seat with a pout. “It’s not a picture of you.”
“It’s a picture of two friends sharing a joke,” you say. “It’s so fleeting and so human and it’s immortalised on film.”
“That’s very poetic, but please send me that photo,” Mapi grins at you.
You glance back over at Alexia, who is back in her seat but has a curious expression on her face as she looks straight back at you, head tilted to one side as if she’s trying to read into your soul. Your cheeks flush, remembering that in theory Alexia knows you far better than anybody else at this table, even if she doesn’t remember it herself, and you put your camera away to continue eating your dinner.
———
Later that night, when you’re in bed in your hotel room, having one final scroll through your phone before going to sleep, an Instagram notification pops up at the top of the screen.
alexiaputellas is now following you
You almost drop your phone in surprise.
Somewhere in this hotel, Alexia is in an identical room to this one, probably on her phone too, and one of her last thoughts before going to bed is you and your Instagram account.
That thought makes you feel a certain kind of way, though you don’t think you describe it exactly.
You open up the app and tap the notification to get to Alexia’s profile. You don’t follow her yet - you thought about it years ago when you got back from Ibiza and did a little internet stalking but chose not to, then you also haven’t followed her since starting your new job, not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention to yourself to remind her that she met you before.
Does she remember? She’s mentioned before that she thinks she recognises you - what if the Instagram follow is her way of confirming that she’s finally put the pieces together? Or maybe it’s just a complete coincidence. Maybe she’s following you purely for your photography.
It keeps you up for longer than you planned, and when you finally fall asleep, you dream of Ibiza.
———
You like matchdays. You get to sit in the sun and watch a game of football, even if you see most of it through the lens of your camera. And it’s where the players are most able to be themselves, showing all their emotions out on the pitch, the passion, the frustration. It delivers some beautiful opportunities for the perfect photo.
Barcelona wins the game comfortably to continue their perfect start to the season. A photo that you took of Alexia after scoring her second and Barcelona’s third goal is picked to go out on all the social media channels to announce the final result, a shot of her screaming in passion as Pina jumps on her back with a few of the other players out of focus in the background as they chase after her.
There’s not much time to celebrate after the match as the buses will be heading directly to the airport to take the team back to Barcelona. You get straight on your laptop as you sit near the front of one of the buses while waiting for the players to shower and change, but as you’re sorting through photos, a shadow falls over the screen of your computer.
“Is this seat taken?”
You look up and see Alexia standing in the aisle of the bus.
“No,” you say, moving the strap of your camera bag out of the way to clear the seat.
Alexia stows her bag and coat above the seat, then drops into the seat beside yours. There’s an unspoken rule that further towards the back of the bus you get, the noisier it is, especially after a match, and you don’t say anything to Alexia, unsure if she’s sitting here to keep you company or if she just wants a break from the celebrations taking place at the back of the bus.
In the end Alexia is the one who breaks the silence.
“I’m glad I’ve got the chance to speak to you,” she says. “There’s something I wanted to talk about.”
You know what Alexia is going to say before she even opens her mouth.
“I remembered where I know you from,” she continues. “Ibiza, right?”
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gevivys (beauty) │ Chapter 9: Bride
terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!
Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 │Chapter 4 │Chapter 5 │Chapter 6 │Chapter 7 │Chapter 8 │Chapter 9 │Chapter 10 (COMPLETE!)
Synopsis: Daemon returns to King's Landing after ten years in exile, intent on rekindling his affair with Rhaenyra. He wasn't expecting you - the revelation changes everything.
Welcome to the penultimate chapter of the rework! This is a modified OG Chapter 6, with a couple mini flashbacks inserted. Sorry about the wait; turns out my HV was completely rubbish the first go around, so I’ve been pulling my hair out trying to translate properly. Thanks to @ewanmitchellcrumbs for giving her stamp of approval!
TRIGGERS: incest, purity culture, violence, age gap.
Daemon sees little of you in the weeks before the wedding.
Viserys, in his infinite wisdom, had elected to employ the services of the Rogue Prince in all matter of small duties and odd tasks, from assisting Strong in training with the City Watch to flying to the Reach and taking tea with the leeches of Highgarden. It is his punishment for daring to claim his precious child, his little beauty, ‘the People’s Princess’ or so you are called.
One of the worst experiences of his life thus far has to be meeting with Lord Tyrell in a lurid solar in the man’s equally-as-tasteless Keep, having to pretend as though he’s apologetic for beating his head in for daring to tarnish your name. Upon learning of the Crown’s intentions to expand trade with the region—a thinly-veiled endeavour to compensate for the now-crooked jaw and the scarring bisecting his right cheek—the lord had been all merriment.
Sycophantic fuck, Daemon had thought to himself at seeing Lord Denys’s disposition change, the disfigured flesh stretching repellently as he smiled affably at him. Trust House Tyrell to prioritise money over pride.
It was likely short-sighted of him to believe that the Hightower problem would go away once his brother had announced your marriage before the court. Since the day of the pronouncement, the Queen had been making sly jabs on the suitability of the match, from overly-polite enquiries as to the state of the residuals he had claimed from Runestone—”I do hope Lord Gerold was accommodating to your requests to receive the remaining funds from your late lady wife’s estate?”—to offhand remarks about the plight of childlessness that had plagued him in his previous union. Not that a child could ever grow in the septic chasm that was his bronze bitch’s womb, though he had admittedly never bothered to explore its rocky depths.
He had weathered the slights well enough, though he couldn’t help but to drop a few barbs about the son she was no doubt representing. Aegon is a perverted little twat if ever he had seen one—groping maids, fondling kitchen staff, and there are even rumours of him forcing himself on some unsuspecting common girl, though the tales vary widely and are exceedingly difficult to pin down.
I may be violent and brash, he thinks, but at least the women I bed come to me willingly.
Unfortunately, it seems as though the Queen has been whispering in Viserys’s ear when he is called to the Small Council chambers once more, this time with the full retinue present. He is surprised to see you in attendance, standing meekly at the foot of the table with eyes darting between the forms of your attending sister and the table.
It looks like an inquisition.
“Niece.” He strides forward and lays a kiss upon your brow in greeting, glaring out at his brother over the top of your head. You whisper a greeting in return, the sound fearful and taciturn in a way that he had not heard since the commencement of your reignited acquaintance. He addresses the wider audience sternly, who have shifted in discomfort at the liberties he has taken with you. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Daemon.” Viserys clears his throat uneasily. The Hightower bitch is thin-lipped beside him, and he is intrigued to note the thunderous expression on Rhaenyra’s face. Whatever this is, it isn’t good. “There have been… concerns… raised about your ability to—see through this marriage with my daughter.”
Now he knows the Hightower woman is involved.
“Oh, really?” Daemon asks quietly, dangerously. He can see Lyonel Strong swallow, resolutely avoiding staring at him or his little niece. “And by that I am taken to assume you mean my ability to bed her? Rest assured, brother—I’ll have no trouble at all on that account. Care for a demonstration?”
The occupants of the room shift guiltily as they exchange glances, and Daemon feels as though he is the butt of some unheard-of jest. He wonders what in the Seven hells is going on. Looking back at you, he sees you are equally as confused.
“It has been recommended to me by the Grand Maester that—so as to address this issue—we proceed with a… public… consummation,” Viserys says. Daemon finds it difficult to ascertain the tone. Guilt? Self-satisfaction? Whatever it is, it’s clearly warring in his brother’s mind, for the spasming of his features is bizarre to look upon. “The Small Council will bear witness to the evening’s… activities. Along with myself, the Queen and the heir.”
He cannot fucking believe his ears. For a moment, he is concerned he is having some kind of fit, or perhaps the madness of his bloodline has finally caught up with him. But the prolonged solemnity of the seated advisors, the stone-cold face of Rhaenyra and the guilty countenance of the Queen prove that his hearing is very much functional. His blood runs cold, then hot as he processes the words.
His impertinent comment seems suddenly ironic. It seems I’ll be demonstrating after all.
“A public consummation.” He shapes the words slowly, jaw clenched. Lord Tyland shifts nervously in his chair as he takes in what must be a truly deranged expression on his face. “Enlighten me”—his hand falls to the pommel of Dark Sister in feigned relaxation—“what precisely does that mean?”
This time, the old codger himself pipes up. Mellos, the balding fuck, has always disapproved of him. With a stern, unforgiving visage and a constantly disparaging nature, he is one among many, many maesters that Daemon can claim a healthy disrespect for. After the bungle the man had made of Baelon’s birth—dead child, dead mother, and naught to say for his learned experience save for ruined sheets and the encroaching decay of mortality—it was even more difficult to trust the man.
“You will wed the Princess,” he says superciliously. Daemon chafes at the obvious implication that he is somehow unintelligent for asking what the fuck he is thinking. “You will attend the festivities, and you will perform the bedding ceremony; after which, the Small Council will adjourn into the marital chamber behind a screen, view the consummation, and confirm it took place through examination of the linen.”
“Absolutely fucking not.” Daemon actively battles the urge to unsheathe his sword and run Mellos through.
He cannot believe the insanity of what has been asked of you. He cares markedly less for his own welfare—after a three-year war in the Stepstones, one learned not to be too choosy about where and in front of whom to bed a woman, taking any opportunity to achieve a quick release before battle called once more. It is an outrage. It is an insult.
He ought to have expected it. His brother really had capitulated too easily. Now he understands why.
“When did I offer you a choice?” Viserys asks, brow raised. He almost looks as though he is prepared to laugh, but perhaps he too is feeling the flush of Targaryen madness in him at the discussion being forced to take place. “You never lay with Lady Rhea. I’ll not give my daughter to you so you can squander two Targaryen lines.”
When Rhea had been alive, he’d never once tried to stick his cock in her. Too plain, features too drab and form too shapeless—and that is physicality alone. She’d been much worse in character, sneering and conceited, though she had little cause. Runestone was no Dragonstone, nor is it comparable to the capital. He had honestly been concerned the razor-teeth surely lining her cunt would bite his appendage clean off. A thoroughly unpleasant shrew, an utter waste of woman—the most enjoyment he ever received from her was the sight of her brain spilling out of her cracked skull as she lay dying in the fields of the Vale, twitching and gurgling.
“So this is your brilliant solution? Having everyone watch? Inspecting her afterward, as though she’s some brothel whore? What—do you want to traumatise the girl?”
He cannot look at you, cannot bear to see the fear on your face, though he enjoys the discomfited looks shared amongst the Small Council at the crassness of his words, the resigned indignation of the Hightower woman and the barely-veiled fury of his eldest niece. Good. The attending Kingsguard—Ser Willis Fell and Ser Steffon Darklyn—straighten watchfully, hands falling to rest on their pommels to match his own disposition.
Lyonel Strong straightens in his seat, seeming eager to resolve the issue through artless placation. “Prince Daemon—”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion, Lord Hand,” Daemon snaps. He doesn’t give a fuck about what prosaicisms Lord Strong could possibly offer.
“It is a revival of Targaryen tradition.” Mellos clears his throat. “One that saw the reigning King’s…er, virility… proven to all those who denied it. This is the only—”
“Maegor?” His vexation turns to fury. “You want to reinstate a practice begun by Maegor?”
Long has his reputation been compared to that of his grandfather’s despotic uncle. It is terribly ironic that the custom Maegor had instituted on the eve of his wedding to his Black Brides would be reintroduced for his own ceremony.
He may have needed to prove his cock worked, Daemon thinks irately, but I certainly don’t.
This is not what he voices aloud. “I already have the blade”—his grip tightens on Dark Sister—“so I suppose you may as well name me ‘Daemon the Cruel’ and be done with it.”
Lyman Beesbury flinches; Viserys sighs. It is then that you step forward, timidly reaching out and touching his arm.
“Kepus,” you whisper. When he hushes you, you continue louder, more forcefully, carefully measuring your words in the tongue of your ancestors. “Aōle jikāks arlī daor. Līr jaelzi gaomās.” Don’t get yourself sent away again. Just do what they want.
He is furious at the fact that you are so used to having the wills of others exerted over you that you make no protest of this barbaric demand. Instead, you urge him to concede. He cannot help but to direct his irritation towards you.
When he angrily asks you if you’d actually like to be fucked with the entire Council watching, your rejoinder is swift but even. I am not the one you are angry at, you say, and it is true. Of all the people in this fucking room, it is you who deserves his rage the least. A wave of guilt washes over him when he considers the rudeness of his words.
He has to leave. If he doesn’t, he’ll say something downright insulting or potentially threatening, and he cannot afford to be exiled again. Not with the wedding looming so close—not when everything he has worked for is within close reach.
“Fine.” He huffs as he turns to face the Council once more. “This is not over. And fuck you very much for this little suggestion,” he says, pointing at Mellos. “I’d watch myself if I were you.”
He can hear the sounds of Viserys calling him back, of Mellos sputtering some indignant horseshit. He knocks lightly into Cole’s shoulder as he exits the room, the heavy door slamming loudly shut as he stalks off.
Daemon’s footsteps lead him to the yard, where the Strong boy’s second-in-command— a truly beastly figure by the name of Luthor Largent—is running training exercises with the City Watch.
He slumps against the wall, arms folded, watching with dark eyes and stormy thoughts as the man runs a truly merciless regime, shouting abuse at the stragglers who fall behind. Easily approaching seven feet in height, the captain is a fearsome grizzled warrior, a soldier who strikes fear into the hearts of the scum of King’s Landing. He had employed the man during his own tenure, selecting him from over a dozen contenders from the crownlands. It is a personal source of pride to see him prosper within the brotherhood.
The City Watch has flourished in his time away. He is irritated by the fact that he is forced to admit this—that the Strong lad has been a worthy enough successor to his former post as Commander.
It is some time later that he is approached by the man himself, Harwin Breakbones in his practical burnished armour and gold cloak. The man sits a small distance away from him and feigns careful examination of his subordinates, though it is clear his purpose has more to do with him than his post.
“Prince Daemon.” His growling gravel sets Daemon’s teeth on edge. Just because he’s accepted the man’s place in Rhaenyra’s life doesn’t mean he has to like his presence.
He sighs. “Ser Harwin.” He smirks when Largent tosses one of the new recruits clean over his back, sending the soldier sprawling and groaning in the dirt. He continues, still affecting ignorance and watching the display before him. No use in drawing this out. “What can I do for you?”
“I bring a message from the Lord Hand.”
Daemon’s eyes briefly flick to his companion before returning to the training. There are eyes all over the Red Keep, and it wouldn’t do to give any potential enemies ammunition.
“I had thought the Lord Hand was rather displeased with you at present—seems I was mistaken.” He sneers as he gives voice to the rumours that Lord Lyonel had rather comprehensively chastised his son for the constant speculation regarding the paternity of Rhaenyra’s children.
Secret conversations do not stay secret for long in King’s Landing.
Strong grunts, a displeased concession. “If you would prefer I keep his words to myself, I’ll depart post-haste, my Prince.”
The cheek of him. It startles a laugh from Daemon, and he decides that perhaps it is worth listening to the lad after all.
“Very good.” He glances to Strong. “Well, then. Give me this message.”
“The white raven is in the pocket of the watchtower,” Strong says, and Daemon’s nose wrinkles as he ponders the words.
White raven, white raven… white ravens, Isle of Ravens, the Citadel—Maester. Watchtower—clearly ‘Hightower’.
The maester is in the pocket of Hightower.
It is clear that this has something to do with the old fuck’s grand idea to exact humiliation upon him and his little niece. Daemon’s jaw works as he contemplates the revelation. There’s little possibility that the Queen would govern the loyalty of the Grand Maester so coldly. Not only is she not nearly good enough at pretending perturbation as she had done in the Small Council, but he also doubts she would be willing to inflict such distress upon you. Nothing he has seen of your acquaintance would lead him to this conclusion.
But old Otto… an ambitious cunt, a man whose grandson holds a very legitimate claim to the Seven Kingdoms, a claim that is superseded only by the King’s declaration that his daughter will succeed him as heir. Such a man is capable of this. He has little doubt that the slimy fuck has been plotting behind the scenes ever since his removal from office. And, if the King’s daughter should only produce bastards—gossip that could very easily be proven correct in the right circumstances—precedent suggests that the next in line is… you. The People’s Princess, you are loved and respected by many, and you are far less personally objectionable than Aegon.
You are also to be his wife.
He is clearly not alone in realising how advantageous your impending match would be in shoring up the succession and preventing the Hightowers from acceding to the Iron Throne. It suddenly makes a twisted sort of sense. Popular opinion had long held that Daemon had cooled toward Rhea due to how zealously he was forced to her bed on the wedding night. To devise a public spectacle such as this in the hopes that it would foster resentment between you and he, prevent the solidification of the union before it can flourish…
It is absurd. It is underhanded. It is clever. A valiant attempt at engendering disharmony in conceivably the most significant blow to his ambition since the disgraced man had slunk from court, badge of the Hand firmly pinned to the lapel of another.
“Thank you, Ser Harwin,” he says. “I will remember your loyalty, and your father’s, when the time comes.”
The man nods. A brief look passes between them. It seems Breakbones and the Lord Hand have value after all. Perhaps he had been unwise to dismiss them so quickly.
He pushes himself off the wall and treads leisurely back into the Keep in search of you, making careful effort not to appear hasty or distempered lest prying eyes should report this to Oldtown.
Otto really does spend too much time thinking about my cock, Daemon thinks wryly.
It is not the first protestation the man has had about his carnal exploits. Still, the dilemma is evident. Either he continues to protest the atrocity being demanded of you, to kick up a fuss and demand the respect you are both owed as Prince and Princess of the Realm, or he swallows his dignity and his wrath and he removes the lord’s power over the circumstances by… letting it happen.
Obviously, he ought to proceed with the latter. This is the surest way to foil Hightower’s plot, at least for the time being. But the thought of how frightening you would find it, his sweet little untried niece, to have your despoilment on exhibit for the Council’s sick satisfaction is a preoccupation that he must speak with you on before he makes any decision.
He finds you in Laena Velaryon’s apartments of all places, the series of rooms that she shares with her husband and children. The lady opens the door herself when he knocks, white hair untamed and loose, framing her head with dense coils that set off appealingly against her dark skin.
She is rather fetching—he’d always thought so. Daemon had even gone so far as to ask for her hand some years ago. In light of his upcoming nuptials, he cannot say he is too aggrieved that Rhaenys and Corlys had rebuffed him then, for you are an infinitely superior match. The woman is cradling the swell of her belly, a grimace of effort upon her face. He supposes the weight of the growing babe is beginning to exact its toll on her. Behind her, he can hear the sounds of bickering.
“My Prince,” Laena breathes, rubbing her distended middle with a small frown. “What might I assist you with?”
“Lady Strong,” he greets. After asking if you are present in her chambers, he is gratified when she nods, obligingly stepping back and widening the entrance so that he may step through.
You are standing over the glowering forms of the seated Jacaerys and Lucerys, Laenor beside you with arms crossed and a stern bearing. Across from Rhaenyra’s sons sit the identical forms of two young girls—he can only assume these are Ser Breakbones’s daughters, the twins Baela and Rhaena—one of whom is failing to conceal the cast of despondency from showing, the other with her arm thrown around her sister in comfort.
“It was unnecessarily cruel,” you are saying, a look of such disappointment on your face that even he feels the urge to quail. “You did not think about how awful it must feel for Aemond to be without a dragon, and nor did you consider how your actions might have made Rhaena feel.”
Ah, yes, he thinks, recalling a snippet of memory. The Strong girls had been gifted dragon eggs at Rhaenyra’s request—though one had yet to hatch.
“It was Aegon’s idea,” Jace says, his countenance more contrite than his words suggest. Tears have welled in Luke’s eyes.
Laenor scoffs. “And if Aegon had the idea to freefall from dragonback—would you do that, too? Use your sense, boy.”
He kneels down to crouch before his sons in all but blood, casting his hand through the boys’ dark hair comfortingly as the younger begins to cry. “I am unimpressed with your behaviour, but I understand what it is to be led into making a mistake. You will apologise to Aemond, and I will be discussing with your mother how you will be making reparations for this deed.”
Jace nods seriously, and Luke sniffles.
“You should also apologise to Rhaena, boys,” you add, eyes flicking guardedly to Daemon as you register his presence. You pat their shoulders as they sidle past you to hug Laena’s children, smiling faintly at the endearing sight the foursome make.
Before making your way to him, you whisper something unknown to Laenor; the man’s gaze snaps to Daemon. He nods once in acknowledgement, though that same tightening around the eyes remains, a sign that he—like so many others—is yet to truly accept Daemon’s claim of you.
Laenor had been vexed by the news of your impending union, sidling up beside him for but a moment to whisper a mild-mannered threat while the court gathered themselves. “I’d threaten you,” he’d said, slapping his back a little too hard, “but I think whatever Rhaenyra is likely to have said to you will have a far more frightening consequence. Just know I’ll be looking out for her—and watching you.”
He is glad you have the love of your family, a feat not easily won in the divided House of the Dragon. He supposes Laenor’s pledge will be tested soon—as Rhaenyra’s Prince Consort, he’s likely to be one of several to watch the wedding night’s proceedings.
Daemon follows you out of the room, tipping his head briefly in farewell to Lady Strong as he departs. He turns to you. You are staring up at him watchfully, hands clasped together, a vision of piety in your high-collared gown.
“Are you well, Uncle?” you ask him, gentle and guileless.
His mouth quirks at the query. It is sweet and charming and utterly like yourself to be concerned for his welfare in light of the command levied by the King upon you both.
“I’m fine, sweetling.” He reaches for your small hand to draw it under and around his arm, securing your hold on his frame before initiating a slow walk to your younger sister’s apartments.
He has become familiar with your weekly visiting schedule over the weeks—Rhaenyra, Laena, Helaena, Viserys and Alicent, Ser Lysan—a repeated cycle of teas and books and chatter. It is surely your unsettling Hightower sister you are proceeding to next, and you make no protest at the direction his steps are leading you in.
He allows his gaze to settle on you once more. “I’m not concerned for myself. But I am concerned for you. How are you feeling?”
“Qrīdrolaks iksan.” I am confused, you say, switching to your native tongue as you pass a busy intersection of the Keep and glancing nervously at the ogling of the courtiers. It has been three sennights since the announcement, two days until your wedding, and still the news preoccupies the residents of King’s Landing like no other. “Mīvindiks. Yn ñuhe gaomilaksir gaominna.” Frustrated. But I will perform my duty.
“Lo zūgā, kepa aōha qubroti jās ivestrinna.” He steers you up the staircase, looking down at you in concern. If you’re afraid, I will tell your father to fuck off.
You giggle, squeezing his arm in amused admonition. The gravity returns to your countenance as the laughter dies off.
“Daor.” You sigh. “Lo bonir gaomā, ponte ērinis. Kesir tatinna, kepus.” No—if you do that, they win. I will see this done, Uncle.
His brave, brave girl. Though the remark is decisive and firm, the way in which your lower lip quivers as the words escape belies the trepidation you are surely feeling.
You straighten, swallowing and looking straight ahead as you approach the so-called Hightower wing of the Keep that is named for its occupying residents. “Zaldrīzesse biādroti zūgusy daor.” Dragons do not fear sheep.
An admirable sentiment. But he must make certain before he allows this to happen.
“Pōnto syt gaomagon bēvilō daor—lo epō, qogrondi ossēninna.” You don’t have to perform for them—I will slaughter the bunch if you ask.
He almost hopes you will take him up on it.
You dig your heels in lightly when you reach an entrance, the door to the chambers left ajar. Inside, he can see a sliver of pale hair and the inane mutterings of the witchling, light and nonsensical. You are one of few individuals that can draw the girl to the realm outside her mind.
You shake your head at him, declining his offer. He wonders if you believe him to be jesting. He is not.
“Ynot mīsilā,” you murmur, and it makes his chest tighten. You will protect me.
He can count on a single hand the number of times in his life he had been the recipient of such belief. It is so simple a statement, and yet so profound. Watchful, mistrusting girl that you are, he is pleased to receive such an avowal of faith in him. He hopes that he will deserve it.
You tiptoe to lay a sweetheart kiss upon his cheek, blushing scarlet as you dart into the room and close the door, a bold ingenue teasing at her suitor. He chuckles at your shy seduction as he ventures off to his room to ponder the plot that has been unveiled.
If Viserys wishes to watch the bedding—if Otto wants to wage war on his marriage—then let him, he thinks to himself ruthlessly.
Let them bear witness to the power your union will wield; let them see and be afraid.
After all—dragons do not fear sheep.
In many respects, the wedding ceremony is every bit as typical as any other ritual undertaken in the Sept. As he had predicted, there is far too much droning from Septon Eustace, far too much incense and far too many spectators. He shall have to commence talks with the High Priest to arrange for a Valyrian rite.
You are darling in a high-collared gown of white and precious metal, sworls of gold and silver latticed in conformation to the shape of your waist and bust, decorating the sleeves and ends. Rubies and other priceless jewels glitter among the openwork, fashioning a picture of might and wealth. He’s gratified to see the Valyrian steel necklace he gifted you around your throat, and it serves almost as a divide separating your bare skin from the fabric.
You’d favoured these gauzy sort of dresses as a girl, too.
“Mama! Mama, do you like it?” you ask, handfuls of skirt clutched in plump fists as you sway from side to side, beaming at your reflection.
“Beautiful, my dearest!” Aemma laughs at your happy little wiggle, hand pressed to her belly. This babe is a boy, or so she’d told Daemon, and a rather active one at that. She winces, presumably from yet another movement of the child tumbling about in her womb. “Is it what you wanted?”
You nod enthusiastically. “I love it!” Your eyes meet his through the mirror. “Kepus! Do you—do you like it too?”
Truthfully, you look a little too similar to those iced cakes you enjoy, puffed and pastel and thoroughly impractical. But Aemma is correct; you are beautiful. With your silver hair curling strikingly against its backdrop of pale sky and your cheeks rounded and flush with your joy, how can you be anything but?
“Lovely,” he says from his place by the door, unfolding his arms and standing tall. “Ready for your celebration?”
At the reminder, you gasp like a common street performer, revolving on spun heel to dart to the exit. You are getting quicker by the day, and so he is only just able to catch you around the arm as you bolt through the small opening and into the hall. You squeal as he swings you up and onto his hip, tiny arms winding in a near chokehold around his neck.
“Yes! Yes!” You are exultant, the high sound of your voice piercing in his ears. Your legs kick out at his side for good measure. “Happy name day to me!”
Daemon swallows against the dryness in his mouth. She looks nothing like a cake now.
He is struck by the urge to lay you across the altar and give the Seven Kingdoms something to really talk about. His bashful princess, so precious, so demure, so clearly eager to be corrupted—and he is all too willing to do the spoiling.
“I am yours and you are mine, from this day, until the end of my days.” Your voices mingle in the chamber, a pleasing amalgamation of high and low.
The Septon finally—finally—gives him leave to kiss his bride, and he savours the gentle touch of your lips against his, no more than a ghostly graze of skin against skin. You are soft and sweet in his hold, and it is with exultation that he leads you down the aisle as his lady wife.
Your ladies rush forward to help gather your skirts as you stop him uncertainly at the top of the stairs. You clutch his proffered hand with a grateful smile, leaning on his support as you journey down to the courtyard from where you will make your way across to the Great Hall.
The seating arrangement had caused some headache during planning, he knows. That is the issue with Targaryen intermarriage—when husband and wife share the same family, whom do they assign as representatives for each? In the end, it had been decided that Viserys would sit next to you, with Alicent and the Lord Hand rounding out the left side of the royal table. On the other side, Rhaenyra was to be installed beside Daemon, Laenor completing the row at the end. He is thankful for the arrangement, having no desire to sit beside his brother. The King is still surly and aggrieved by the entire thing, but had miraculously—and for a reason unknown to him—conceded to your preference and acquiesced to the match.
At the first feast following the ceremony, it is custom for the wedded pair to remain seated as the guests dance. This forces Daemon to make conversation with an occupied Rhaenyra—busy watching her oldest child like a hawk on one of the auxiliary tables beside Ser Harwin, a move that had set afresh new gossip—or a drunken Laenor, or dodging the gaze of Viserys.
You are quiet and withdrawn, though affecting a facade of genteel delight, and it is no wonder. With the prospect of the bedding ceremony looming—a ridiculous tradition in which the wedded pair were stripped by the crowd and carried undressed to their bed—and the further ignobility of an exposed consummation, you are likely to feel quite traumatised already.
Sitting beside him in your pretty little wedding gown, he is discomfited by the recurrence of memory once more.
A tugging at his shirt distracts him from his goal.
“What?” he barks. The sound of a sniffle draws his attention down.
You stand in your name day dress, skirts as frightfully fluffy as ever, only your expression is drawn into a scowl and your eyes are rimmed red. With a sigh, he steps away from his latest liaison—Lord Crane’s wife, or is it his daughter?—and dismisses her with a careless wave of the hand. She scurries off, lips bruised and hair ruffled and thoroughly indignant, though he cannot confess to care overmuch for her feelings.
He stoops before you. “What is it, sweetling?”
You pout, rubbing a sticky hand over your face. Your mouth is smeared with icing, he notes with some amusement. “There is too much—too much people here, kepus. I don’t like it.”
“Too many,” he corrects automatically, brushing stray strands out of your face. He frowns, grabbing you by the shoulders when you lean into him. “All those guests, hm?” he asks, attempting to distract you from the flood of tears that is no doubt on its way. “Awfully loud for my little princess, too, I wager. Want to leave?”
“Uh-huh.” Your palm trails a path of sugar-paste over his doublet and flexes in the fabric, your gaze shifting from his and slightly to the left. He takes hold of your wrist before your fingers can make their way into his hair. “I’m tired.”
Good girl. It had been a struggle for the ages to have you admit to such a thing until recently. He used to have to hold the blankets firm over you until you ceased your caterwauling, stubborn tot desperate to stay up just a little longer—but against his strength, you were no match. And now, here you are, conceding your fatigue with no prompting whatsoever. You are growing up, and the prospect fills him with a bittersweet gladness.
“Alright, then.”
He lifts you under your arms and strides down the empty halls. Your head settles into the crook of his neck, nose snuffling against his flesh, and he savours the doll-sized warmth of you in his embrace for just a little while longer.
You never did enjoy crowds. He cannot imagine you are at ease now.
When the call for the bedding springs up from within the crowd, he rises and turns to you. “Come, sweetling,” he tells you, taking your hand. “We’d best leave now.”
You are already flushing, uncertain. He can feel Laenor glaring at the back of his neck.
“Daemon!” Viserys is reddened with excitement and beaming. “can you not hear the noise? It’s time for the bedding!”
He is deep within his cups, swept along by the conviviality of the hall, the loud chatter and spirited guffaws comprising the din. He has not absorbed his brother’s stance as of yet, severe and uncompromising.
“There will be no bedding,” he says, tugging you to your feet. You follow pliantly, brows furrowed and worrying at your bottom lip.
“We agreed, brother!” The King’s face displays the slow-dawning comprehension of a man who has realised that the groom is prepared to make a scene at his own wedding feast. And he is.
He cares not who he must murder in order to convey you to your rooms untouched by other men. You are his.
“No.” He smiles through gritted teeth. “You decided. Don’t worry, brother. You’ll get your spectacle, but my niece will not endure any further debasement this night.”
He lightly fingers the knife attached to his hip, watching Viserys’s eyes flicker between the motion and his fixed expression. Meanwhile, the Hightower bitch is dabbing at the corners of her mouth with cloth, a poor pretence at ignorance. His brother forces an exhalation, no doubt resigned and irked by yet another display of defiance.
“Fine,” he says. “No bedding.”
“Good.”
You brighten imperceptibly at his words, quickly taking his arm and allowing him to walk you through the hall to the entry before your father can change his mind. The nettled grumbles begin in the chamber behind you as the King announces the news.
“Thank you,” you breathe, a relieved half-grimace painting your features.
“Of course,” he says, leading you up the grand staircase to your marital chambers.
Despite everything—despite the knowledge of Otto’s hand in your union and the expectation of what is to come, despite your obvious apprehension and the role he is forced to play in it—he cannot help his excitement.
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Welcome...Home..?
Overworked! GN! Reader x Welcome Home Crew
Chapter 3
Tw: Break down (Reader experiences a small break down), overall a bit of crying
Hoo, boy! This one's a long one! Strap in everybody!
So, as we left off, reader gets introduced to their...interesting situation, but doesn't have much time to process it before having to head in to work. What happens when the reader actually has a moment to process it? But the reader's not the only one in the story! The entire crew is here! So, how are they dealing with this stressful new situation?
Chapter 1 l Chapter 2 l Chapter 3 l Chapter 4
The day had gone by busy as usual. The restaurant was so busy that you were barely able to squeeze in a break. Just a small part of your shift, 2 buses had stopped by within the first few hours of you clocking in. Why, in all the world's name, did people decide to take a bus to a restaurant this early in the morning??? While one of your managers was kind enough, the other never bothered to care about anything more than their basic job, deciding to stay in the back office and never leaving unless a customer requested to see them. Any coworkers that had any sort of complaint or wanted to take a break were directed to the other manager. Thank god the nice manager was on today. It was torture when it was just the lousy one.
As for your classes, you only had one today. When you first scheduled your classes, you made note to keep them simple as they could easily pile up. What you didn't take into account was how busy work would be, and the class itself was labor intensive and required you to talk to so many people. You scheduled this class to be on its own for a reason, but it still dragged you down six feet under for energy.
The day felt as though it was never going to end. Little did you know, a little surprise waited for you when you finally found time to eat your packed lunch. A little note sat on the top of the simple meal, folded neatly with a caterpillar doodle drawn on the top fold.
"Y/N, it's wonderful to get to meet you! I knew you were a hard worker when I saw how peaceful you were sleeping this morning. According to your calendar, you're even busier than me! I noticed how dirty the house was, so I cleaned up a little. I hope you don't mind! You seemed so exhausted, and it's the least I can do to help make your already busy life easier. I hope you have a great day, shrimp! Make your day worth it to you! We're so proud of you, already! Signed, Howdy P."
It was small, but his written words made your day a little bit brighter. You almost found yourself smiling. The paper crinkled as you folded it up gently and put it in your pocket.
By the end of the day, you were once again exhausted---more than that, actually. It wasn't uncommon for you to be barely walking from exhaustion at the end of the day, and as much as you so dearly wanted to go home, the moment you sat down in the driver seat of your car you hesitated to turn the ignition key. The puppets were still there. Waiting for you. While you didn't think they would hurt you, your stomach twisted and churned at the idea of having to face that entire problem that you've been running from all day.
So you didn't.
Rather, you drove to the nearby library. By now the sun was already setting, and a little voice in the back of your mind urged you to go home. "Maybe you'll have some free time to do what you want," it whispered. "Maybe you'll have time to play some video games or go on a walk down that old path you used to love so much." But you didn't listen.
The bell above the door rang as you walked in. Unlike most libraries, it had a small cafe cove in the corner for those like you: completely exhausted and in college. It wasn't too far from the college you attended---just a block or two away---it was maybe a 5--10 minute walk at most from the college's main entrance to there. But you were tired enough as is, and walking was something you could barely do at the moment, so your car rested in its small parking lot. As you trudged through the entrance, the cove caught your attention. "Maybe a little bit of caffeine will do me some good."
Due to the lax nature of the building, there weren't many people that crowded the cove, so it didn't take nearly as long to get your coffee/tea as some places in town did. Not that you would know. This cove was the only coffee place you really ever went to for any sort of coffee or tea. Or at least for fresh and ready-to-drink on the go.
The cup warmed your hands as you held it gently to yourself and slowly trudged to a nearby table in the library. "Maybe I could take this chance to finally read that book I've been hearing so many things about." It was decided, then. You dropped your bag on the floor---a bit harder than you meant to---and set your caffeine salvation down to look for the book. When you finally found it, it had been buried in between the various other books; dusty and barely opened. A librarian friend of yours had once recommended it to you months ago, and now you finally set aside the time to read it.
"The Fall of it All" By Robin Feather
You found yourself quickly enthralled by the book. The story was of a servant named Eline serving princess and future queen Cassandra. The young eccentric princess quickly became close to Eline, and very soon began to allude to more secrets within the castle and its royal government. Upon the discovery of each hidden secret, Eline finds themselves further and further trapped in the middle of it all. Eline never once says a thing in the book; rather allowing the other characters and setting to tell the story around them. It brought a surprisingly well twist to the normal story-telling format. By the time you had ripped your attention from the book it was completely dark outside. That little voice in the back of your mind taunted you. "You can't keep running forever."
You sighed, and put a hastily made bookmark in between the pages. Maybe this would be nice to read at home. "And maybe reading it won't bring its characters to real life so they can live in my house." You chuckled at the thought. How ironic the situation you found yourself in was.
Thud.
You threw your empty cup in the trash bin. You had to rummage through your bag, but at the very bottom hid your library card. You wish you had more free time to come here more often like you originally planned, but you didn't have time for much of anything, anymore. The librarian quickly rang it up for you to borrow, and handed the pristine book back to you. With a final heave, you hoisted your bag on your shoulders.
"I can't keep running forever," you mumbled to yourself. It was completely dark out, with the only light being the occasional street lamp and the light from inside the library peeking out its windows. The cover on the book looked appealing, illuminated by the light's warm glow. If only you could just run away and forget it all.
But even Eline had to face their problems.
"I guess I can face mine, too."
The car ride home was quiet, with the radio softly playing whatever was deemed popular enough to bring in listeners. It was peaceful. Too peaceful. Like the calm before the storm. Your heart sank at the thought of facing those puppets again. They act so real...so..alive. Car headlights blinded you again and again as they passed you by, until eventually they were rarely seen on the road at all. Not many ever came up this far. Buildings turned to empty plains and then to forest as the world blurred by. You turned onto an all too familiar dirt road. Every gravel piece that your tires rolled over felt like another nail in the coffin. Another second closer to a dreadful climax.
The house was dark when you finally rolled in your car and parked. Were they asleep? Do they even sleep? Your heavy shoulders relaxed a little upon the thought. Maybe you won't have to face them, afterall. A gentle tired smile graced your face, and with a final sigh, you pulled out your keys and they jingled as you inserted one in the keyhole.
Click!
It was dark and quiet inside. It almost made you want to believe that what had happened this morning hadn't happened at all. Almost. You couldn't see far into the house, but from what you did see, your bookshelf in the hallway had been organized alphabetically, and the dust and webs had been wiped from the tables and nooks. Why is it so quiet? Finally, you closed the door behind you, engulfing you entirely in an inky black.
"SURPRISE!!!" A chorus of voices overwhelmed you, and the lights were turned on. After you recovered from the scare, you noticed how much more...lively the house was. Home-made banners and streamers adorned the ceiling, and colorful balloons and confetti were spread across the floor. One banner in particular read "WELCOME HOME, Y/N!!!" It was so colorful. The lights were so warm. And in the middle of it all stood the ones responsible for it. The cast of colorful puppets you had gotten to somewhat know this morning.
"I...uh..." You stammered, wide-eyed at the scene. How do you react to this? Most of them stayed silent and stared at you with expectant eyes. All for one, however. Julie.
"Y/N, you're finally back! Oh my gosh, we were waiting sooooo long! But you're back now! Wally, Howdy, and Barnaby said how scary this all must be for you like how we're all kinda scared right now, so I thought we could throw a surprise party for you! Oh, we have so much planned!" She dashed to your side and tugged on your shirt, beckoning for you to come forward. She pointed to each puppet as she rambled. "Sally has a short play, Barnaby has a comedy act, Howdy, Poppy, Frank, and me made cookies and cake, and Eddie and Wally made the decorations and some of the games!" A single utterance was made from Frank as she talked, correcting her grammar.
"Howdy, Poppy, Frank, and I. Not me, Julie." Julie paid Frank no mind, too enveloped in her excitement to notice him talk.
It all felt like too much. Too much all at once. Your body took a mind of its own as you excused yourself to the bathroom. When you had dipped out of sight into the hallway, you instead found yourself locking yourself in your bedroom. Before you had even curled yourself up on the floor in front of the door, you heard a voice.
"Y/N?" Wally. He always seemed to know when you were distressed. How? He softly knocked on the door. You didn't have the energy right now. You didn't have the bravery right now. "Please talk to me, Y/N." The room went silent as he paused. You refused to move. "Y/N," He continued. "I know this is scary. I'm scared, too. Please, let me in so we can talk. Or maybe just a hug?" Your face felt hot again. And your chest ached. You buried your face in your knees, feeling them slowly begin to grow warm and wet. Wally's voice turned gentle as he leaned into the door. "It's okay, Y/N. I'm right here." A quiet moment rolled by, then the doorknob turned. But it stopped halfway. You had locked it. Staring at the doorknob, you finally meekly unlocked it before shying away from the doorway and hid your face.
Light poured into the dark room as Wally opened the door. "Wally, is Y/N okay?" Julie called out. Hushed voices filled the hallway and into the bedroom from the living room. Wally stared at you for a moment longer before turning back to the hallway.
"I'm going to talk to Y/N for a bit, okay? Everything's going to be okay." He smiled as Julie mumbled an "okay" and he quietly closed the door. The room was engulfed in darkness once more. "Y/N," the small yellow puppet walked forward and crouched down in an attempt to see your down-turned face. "Oh, Y/N. Dearest Y/N." His felt hand reached up to brush the hair out of your face. "Can you talk to me?" You remained silent, barely glancing at his face before looking away. That's when you felt him push your legs away from your torso and crawl into your lap. You gasped and looked at him, but by the time you saw his face, it was buried in your chest, his arms lay limp at his sides. What was he doing? His monotone robotic laughter echoed through the room. "I don't know how to hug." His eyes looked up into yours as his smile widened and his would-be eyebrows furrowed. "Could you show me?" The ache in your chest was too painful. Too much.
And you broke. You don't know how long it was when you finally stopped crying and loosened your hold on him. You don't know how long it was when he finally spoke up after your quiet restrained sobs stopped. "It's okay. I'm right here." He brushed the tears from your cheeks. He didn't like that his hands were getting wet and your tears would soak deep into his felt and stuffing inside, but he could make a small exception for you. You needed the comfort, and as somebody that you're going to be forced to live with until they can go back to Home, it's the least he could do. You were just as scared as he was. So, for now, he could be the braver one.
You looked into his eyes. Despite them being fake, they felt so comforting to look at. The dark black pools that sucked away the light that shined on them felt familiar. You had seen those same dark eyes in many of your stuffed plushies growing up. You had seen those same dark eyes in the teddy bear your great grandmother gave you when you were little. You hugged Wally close one last time, being more careful to not accidentally hurt the little puppet. "Do they even get hurt?" You brushed the thought to the side. Things are going to be okay. So you took in one last long breath, and wiped your eyes. A smile fell on your face as you looked back down to him. His eyes feel so alive. He is alive. He's just like you. You gently pulled him off your lap and stood up and reached for the door. The doorknob felt so cold. The hushed voices continued on the other side of the door. Your stomach churned again.
"It's okay." Wally watched you carefully. His small hand grasped yours and he squeezed. His favorite thing to do, it seemed. "I'm right here with you. You don't have to be scared."
So you took that final leap, and opened the door. Eyes were instantly on the two of you the moment light seeped into the room. Julie was on the couch with Eddie, the short puppet with a star/sun shaped head, and the large blue dog you hadn’t met yet attempting to comfort her. Frank was busy reading another book, but occasionally glancing at Julie, his furrowed brows raising and his frown twitching down a smidge every time he did. Poppy and Howdy were talking to one another closely a bit away from everyone else. Everyone looked to you. Things were quiet. The air was heavy.
Then Julie hopped up from her spot on the couch and ran over. "Y/N!!" She hugged your legs and buried her face. "I'm so so sorry!! I thought if we did a party, everything would be okay and everyone would be happy but you weren't and you ran away and we were all so worried for you and I'M SO SORRY!" She wailed into the side of your pants as she gripped you tighter, apologizing over and over and over. You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came. So you bent down to her level instead and hugged her close. She really was worried. You found yourself glancing at the others. All of them were.
When Julie's rambling seemed to continue (how in all goodness was she not out of breath yet?) you took it as a sign to interrupt her.
"It's okay, Julie. You're right. I'm scared, too. I was so overwhelmed when I came back that I wanted to run away again. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to help. I don't even know how you all can even exist here!" You chuckled as you pulled away to look her in the face. Your voice was shaky and quiet, but she could hear you. And she did. Her eyes sparkled. Just as always. Your vision began to go blurry again, and your face felt hot. "I've been trying to avoid you guys all day! When I got done with work and school, I went to the library instead. I was too scared. But I had to come home. I had to face everything. I had to face you guys, and I was too scared to go through with it." You wiped your eyes. Everything was crushing in on you again. Julie touched your arm. You're not alone. She's here. Wally's here. Everyone's here. "But I'm going to be brave now."
Her smile grew, and her eyes sparkled more. How is that even possible? Her arms quickly wrapped around you. Everything felt lighter now. The tension was still there, but things weren't caving in on you anymore. "This is going to take a long while to get used to."
Julie spoke up, her voice barely a whisper. "Then I'll be brave with you."
The rest of the night blurred by. You finally were able to be formally introduced to the final three you hadn’t met this morning. The blue dog is Barnaby, a jokester who loves to make people laugh and have a good time himself. The tall green one with multiple limbs is Howdy, a bodega shop owner that’s named his place the “Bugdega.” And lastly, the little yellow star being indeed a star puppet named Sally. All she wanted to do was be a metaphorical star.
The baked goods that Howdy, Poppy, Frank, and Julie made were...sweeter than anything you had really ever had, and each was decorated in colorful frosting (even the things that didn't need frosting). Barnaby did his best act with the props he could find in your house, and while he got everyone else to laugh, you didn't. So, he made it his mission to get you to laugh. The rest of the night, he made various jokes and acts, and eventually he heard it. A giggle. A laugh. Finally, you were doubled over in laughter, wiping tears from your eyes as he laughed with you. A few games were played while the others tried to keep Julie from making any of them too complicated, complaining that they didn't understand any of it. Mistakes were made, rules were broken, laughter was shared, and people (specifically Eddie) tripped and stumbled throughout the entirety of it.
Finally, the lights were turned way down low as you all grouped on the couch. Eddie had taken the job of directing the lights with a special hand-made spotlight, and Julie and Wally worked to keep the special effects going. As Sally acted her play, confetti acting as flower petals were thrown, backgrounds were occasionally changed during Sally's monologues, and they occasionally acted as extras in the background. You never got to see how it ended. Sally was in another one of her monologues when you found your eyelids getting heavy and the person next to you being extremely comfy.
A soft blanket wrapped around you as with two arms. Sally's voice faded further and further away as you leaned into the person. And with one last quiet sigh, you let the sweet appeal of sleep consume you.
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⊹﹒blue lock boys + younger sibling headcanons ♡
michael kaiser, sae & rin & oliver aiku reacting to a gn!younger sibling who just received an anonymous confession letter
masterlists ^o^
KAISER would think the confession is mid. it's just a letter and you're already fawning this hard ?? the person should've at least paired it with a rose bouquet and some nice gifts too. but noo, it was just a simple letter.
he outright snatches it from you and tells you it's a waste of time and you shouldn't be trying to investigate who sent it to you any further. you think he's being mean but really, he'd never admit he's just protective of you.
after taking the letter for himself, he quickly investigates it on his own. he WILL be texting all his friends about it & asking allll the players in the soccer club. so thanks to kaiser your confession is basically public now.
a few days later, the situation died down and no one brought it up anymore but kaiser never seemed to let the situation go. he started to pick you up from school everyday, waiting for you outside the locker room and also visiting you at lunch to tell you the most random and unnecessary things ever .
SAE & RIN said "lukewarm" at the same time, and stared at each other - giving the "don't copy me" look while you stood between them, letter in your hands. rin thinks the confession is absolute bullshit and sae thinks the confession is someone pranking you and they would be so confused like ??.
these two would always get over each other's personal beef just to protect you. everytime you were alone at lunch they'd automatically be at the seat right next to you, doting on you. not to mention that your social media is always stalked by them too, they see your every post & story, they check your every follower and following and the following of the followers too. they know your every friend and your every gossip and as far as they're aware, there's only 2 guys who you were close with, one being gay and the other already taken.
so who the hell was this anonymous person that just decided to randomly plop in out of nowhere and write a shitty letter to you ?? they were very frustrated the next few days and you were just like :|, the letter wasn't anything special to you but to your brothers it was like the devil had knocked on their door and had taken your soul away.
even as you grow up, they still bring it up, at least twice a month, and they would have the most serious expression ever, telling you, "don't ever accept random confessions without telling us beforehand, okay?" and you'd just nod along wanting them to drop it already. jesus.
OLIVER AIKU is happier than you are. he thinks it's like god has given him a blessing, that you and him are the world's undefeated players. on your way home, he tells you all the tips and tricks about how to get someone whipped for you, how to gaslight someone, how to appear offline in instagram even if you're online, et cetera.
and you just want him to shut the hell up already, giving him the "are you serious?" face. your brother was hot, he was those stereotypical jock guys who has had 25 different partners, every week there'd be a different one knocking at your door and you had just received your first confession letter, seriously.
when the both of you arrived home, oliver went to social media to flex about his younger sibling getting a confession letter. something along the lines of "following my footsteps" and "rizzler" ( you blocked him after he tagged you on 5 different posts about it ). you were slightly embarrassed as you walked into school the next day as his friend group teased you about it.
nevertheless, it was a funny experience for the both of you.
note : definitely went overboard with sae & rin but yolo , should i write more siblings au or should i write romance more ?
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Prisoner Part 1
Part 1 – Sihtric x reader
Authors note: the idea for this fic came when I edited this screenshot from Season 5. It was not really an idea, just a feeling in the air that there was a story to be told and I just started writing not knowing where it will lead me.
Summary: Sihtric and Finan are sent to spy on Bebbanburg, but Sihtric gets distracted by an attractive widow and lands up caught and secured by the guards with no chances of escape.
Warnings: smut, 18+
Word Count: 3,887
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
Getting caught and locked up in Bebbanburg’s fortress was definitely not part of the plan. Perhaps it wouldn’t have happened if Sihtric had stuck to the plan, but the temptation to catch a glimpse of the garrison and palisades from within the fortress was too strong to resist. The group of merchants traveling to Bebbanburg in wagons loaded with furs, spices, and fabrics seemed like the perfect disguise. Sihtric immediately noticed that one of the young women traveling with them couldn't take her eyes off him from the moment she saw him at the tavern in the village. Upon inquiring, Sihtric discovered that the young lady was a widow who continued her late husband's trade by selling silk and spices. It was a perfect opportunity. They were supposed to leave for Bebbanburg the following morning, and the fortress was a two-day ride away, so Sihtric had to act quickly.
"You'll see, I'll be back in a week," he confidently assured Finan.
"That's the most foolish idea I've ever heard," Finan responded, far from impressed by the new plan. "And what do you expect me to do if you don't return? What if you're caught?" he asked, growing frustrated.
"I won't be caught," Sihtric asserted, his confidence in his abilities as a spy, which he had already proven several times, unwavering.
Now he just had to convince the pretty little thing, who was casting lustful glances at him, to allow him to accompany the group of merchants to the fortress. Sihtric didn't anticipate it being a complicated task, as he positioned himself near the tavern's entrance, patiently waiting for the lady. He saw no reason why he couldn't combine pleasure with necessity. If getting inside Bebbanburg required to give a good hump to a pretty widow, he saw no reason not to seize the opportunity.
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Sihtric kicked the door shut behind you, his hands firmly holding you against his chest as he eagerly traced the contours of your body. His lips remained locked with yours, never breaking the passionate connection. Sihtric pressed you against the door, his hands slid down your thighs and started pushing your dress up, his hot lips moving down to your neck placing hungry kisses on their way.
“You are so beautiful, my lady!” he whispered in your ear, his voice husky yet soft, causing a shiver of anticipation to run down your spine. “Tell me, what do you want me to do?” Sihtric asked, catching you off guard with his question. It was the first time anyone had ever asked you that. In your experience, men could be divided into two types. There were those who didn’t care whether you enjoyed being with them or not, viewing women as mere objects meant to fulfil their desires before leaving them behind. You had learned to recognize and avoid them based on their behavior. Then there were the men who took pride in pleasing a woman, who liked knowing that you had enjoyed them. However, most of them were so confident in their ability to please you that they never even thought to ask what you desired. Some of them had been skilled lovers, but you quickly got bored of them, as they grew repetitive and too often sought your praise for their performance. So, you were pleasantly surprised by Sihtric's question, but truthfully, you weren't prepared for it. You hesitated for a moment, and suddenly, Sihtric took a half-step back from you, his hands let go of your hips letting your dress drop and went to your shoulders. His fingers softly trailed down your arms until he took hold of your palms and lifted them to his lips placing gentle kisses on your wrists.
“Was I too rush for you? Lady, if you are not sure you want this, please just say a word and I will stop,” his eyes searched yours, filled with questioning. This was entirely new experience for you. Such attentiveness was incredibly uncommon in your world, and you found it so sweet and arousing that it made you shiver in excitement, feeling a hot sensation building up in your lower stomach. You took a step closer to Sihtric, placed your hands on his neck and raised on your tiptoes to reach his lips, kissing him slowly but passionately. You bit his lower lip causing, Sihtric to moan quietly, and you instantly took advantage of his lips parting a bit to enter his mouth with your tongue and deepening the kiss, licking, and sucking at his tongue.
“If I were unsure of what I want, I would have never followed you here,” you smirked, pulling back to catch your breath. Sihtrics eyes darkened with lust and his hands were instantly back on your body, pressing you tightly to his chest, his fingers tracing your back down to your arse, squeezing it tightly only to slide up again caressing your contour. He moved his left hand to your breast, pinching it eagerly, while the other hand took hold of your neck and pulled your head closer to him. His lips were on your cleavage now, placing wet and sloppy kisses there, while his hands started to tug at the lances of your dress.
“Then tell me, what is it that you want, beauty” Sihtric whispered, “What can I do to please you?”
Your head was already spinning, and your pussy was throbbing in desperate need for him. His touch on your body was simultaneously harsh and gentle. His hands were big and rough. They were warrior’s hands used to swinging an axe or holding a sword, but his touch was incredibly gentle as he caressed and fondled your body with his fingertips.
“I want your tongue between my legs. I want you to lick me until I scream your name in pleasure and cum on your tongue,” you murmured in his ear, touching it with your lips, licking it teasingly and biting gently on his ear lip, “And then I want you to fill me with your cock and hump me hard and fast,” you continued and smile started spreading on your face as you heard loud moan escaping Sihtric’s lips desire consuming him at your words.
“Mmm, that is a delicious wish, my lady”, Sihtric chuckled licking his lips. He hastily pulled your dress over your head and dropped it on the floor. While you unfastened your underwear with your hands trembling in desire and anticipation, Sihtric pushed you against the door and sank down on his knees, his hands pulling your underwear to your ankles, so that you could easily step out of it. You felt his hot breath on your skin as he started to place wet, open-mouth kisses on your belly slowly sliding down toward your throbbing pussy. You tilted your head back, leaning heavily at the door, closed your eyes and spread your legs with a loud moan shivering in lust, desperately wanting to feel his tongue on your clit. You could feel his lips getting closer, placing a lingering kiss on your cunt and then with a soft moan his tongue finally slipped over your clit, spreading your folds and licking your pussy until it reached your entrance and then slid back to your clit. The sensation of absolute bliss washed over you, moaning in indescribable pleasure you slid you fingers into his hair and pulled hard on them, while your hips started to move against Sihtric’s tongue. Sihtric growled against your pussy. He certainly knew what he was doing as his wet tongue started to circle your clit with fast movements and his lips nipped and sucked at it.
“Oh yes, Sihtric! Yes, you are so damn good!” you whimpered as he continued licking and sucking your clit, while his fingers were pushing teasingly at your entrance. Your hips were already moving frantically against his tongue as he pushed his fingers deep into your soaked pussy, causing you to release a muffled scream, as he started to fuck you slowly with his fingers. Soft moans were escaping his lips telling you that he enjoyed every single bit of you in this moment and you felt you climax building up quickly.
“I am so close. Ahhh, Sihtric…,” you screamed his name as tears filled your eyes and you reached your high so intensive and strong as you had never felt before. Your thighs were trembling, your head was spinning and your whole body shaking while the waves of pleasure washed over you. Sihtric pulled out his fingers and his strong hands steadied you as you were about to lose your balance, while his tongue made the last slow laps around your clit. You looked down at him with half closed eyes, just to notice the lustful and satisfied smirk on his face as he watched you locking his gaze with yours. Sihtric raised to his feet and without waiting for your high to fade away completely, he grabbed you by your thighs and lifted you up wrapping your legs around his waist. You placed your hands on his shoulders and buried your fingers in his long and curly hair, your body still trembling. Sihtric carried you to the table in the middle of the room and seated you on it positioning himself between your legs. His lips crushed with yours in a passionate, hungry, and deep kiss, while his hands were hastily undoing his breaches. You drove his hands away and took over eagerly. As soon as they were loose enough you slid your hand in his breeches and pulled out his hard and leaking cock, stroking the full length of it and placing it directly at your entrance.
“Are you ready for your second wish?” Sihtric enquired, “Hard and fast?”
“As hard as you can,” you responded and gasped your breath taken away as Sihtric pushed in hard. He gazed at you with a questioning expression, but you just moaned in pleasure digging your nails into his back and enjoying how good his cock filled and stretched your completely soaked pussy. Feeling you adjusted to him, Sihtric slowly pulled almost completely out just to slam back into you harshly. You moaned again, making him fasten his pace, as he started to slam into you harder and deeper.
“Is it hard enough, my greedy lady?” he asked between his own moans of pleasure.
“More, give me more of you and faster,” you begged, leaning back until you were lying on the table surrendering to his lust and giving him the whole control. With a loud groan Sihtric placed your leg over his shoulder, took hold of your hips with his both hands and continued pounding into you, his breathing getting heavy as his own climax was building up. Despite the maddening pace he was not losing his eye contact with you.
“Are you still OK, sweety?” he asked with panting breath, “I don’t want to hurt you. You must tell me if it is too much for you,” he surprised you again with his attentiveness. His cock filled you up perfectly, brushing against your walls and you felt your high approaching fast.
“You are just perfect. Don’t stop… Oh, please just don’t stop. I am so close,” you whimpered looking in his big, mismatched eyes.
“I am close too. Goods… how good you feel! How well you take me… the whole of me…” Sihtric hissed, wetting his thumb with his tongue, and touching your clit. It was the final touch you needed, and you came again moaning loudly, your walls clenching around his cock, your body shaking and back arching against the wooden table. Sihtric followed you a moment later with a loud and hoarse groan. His thrusts became slower and gentler as he allowed you both to savour your highs and calm down. His breath came out in heavy pants as he leaned on the table for support, his eyes scanning every inch of your body. A satisfied smile formed on his face.
"You're incredible," he said, his strong arms pulling you up closer to him, wrapping around your shoulders, and pressing you tightly against his chest.
"You're amazing. I don't want you to leave. Can I accompany you to Bebbanburg?" Sihtric whispered, planting gentle kisses along your neck, collarbone, and back up again. "You're so beautiful and so good to me," he praised, his words intermingled with his affectionate kisses.
The question caught you off guard. A realization dawned upon you—apparently, the young warrior's interest in you extended beyond a good hump. He wanted to get into Bebbanburg and had chosen you as his entrance ticket. At first, you felt a sense of betrayal. But then, you couldn't deny that you hadn't been entirely honest with him either. It seemed both of you had missions to fulfil and were willing to do whatever it took to complete them. Moreover, you had thoroughly enjoyed him tonight as he had turned out to be a delightful distraction on your journey to Bebbanburg to spy for Constantin. There seemed to be no reason to deny yourself the company of this handsome and sweet young Dane. He wanted to get inside Bebbanburg? All right, if allowing him to this opportunity meant continuing to enjoy his good company in your bed for a bit longer, why not? Besides, you were curious about his mission in Bebbanburg as well.
You gazed up at him, a playful expression on your face, and planted a teasing kiss on his lips. "You think you were that good?" you playfully taunted him.
"Didn't you enjoy me? Wasn't I satisfying enough?" Sihtric responded, surprise and dismay evident in his voice. He had been so confident in his lovemaking that hearing the confusion in his voice made you smirk. Hell, he had been good, but you just didn't want to give in too easily.
"I don't know. I haven't made up my mind yet," you continued teasing, your fingertips lightly tracing his broad chest.
"But your sweet little mouth was saying something else just a minute ago," Sihtric countered, his thumb brushing against your lips before leaning in to kiss you. The kiss was gentle, in stark contrast to the intense, passionate, and rough kisses that had consumed your lips moments before. The tenderness of it made you moan with delight and surprise.
"I think I need a little more of you to be certain," you whispered in his ear, gently nibbling his earlobe. "At least a few more nights," you chuckled, and in that moment, he had his answer. You were taking him where he wanted to go.
The following day, Sihtric joined the merchants, weaving a fabricated tale about his desire to see the grand fortress by the sea. However, nobody was fooled. The flushed glances you exchanged, the tell-tale bruises on your neck, and Sihtric's lustful smiles were enough for everyone to understand the true reason behind his decision to accompany the group. Yet, you didn't mind. Cleverly disguising yourself as a wealthy widow had granted you much greater freedom of action, and now it was paying off.
The caravan moved at a slower pace than a lone rider normally would, granting you three whole nights to revel in the company of your newfound lover. Sihtric made sure not to disappoint you. You knew that when this will be over you were going to miss his strong arms wrapped around your waist, his kisses alternating between sweet and gentle, and rough and passionate, leaving you yearning for more, his confident touch on your skin and between your legs. He knew how to please a woman and were eager to showcase his expertise, and you were more than eager to reciprocate. And beyond his physical attractiveness, he proved to be intelligent, humorous, and an attentive listener. After making love, he would hold you close, sharing tales of his adventures—battles fought, and cities visited. In turn, he would inquire about your own experiences, attentively listening as you spoke of your journeys to Frankia and Ireland. Sihtric had mentioned the death of his lord and his intent to travel to Eoferwick, seeking Danish lords who might accept his oath and offer him a place in their service. While you did not believe this story, you kept your suspicions hidden. Sihtric was sweet, kind, attentive and captivating, and it turned out that you cherished his company as much as his body.
On the day you approached Bebbaburg, you started complaining about a heavy headache. The pleasurable part of the journey had come to an end, and you needed a valid excuse to retreat to rest as early as possible and preferably without Sihtric. With only two days to spend in the fortress, time was of the essence. Knowing that Sihtric was likely heading there for a similar purpose as you, you assumed he would be relieved by your sudden illness, as it would free him from your company in the evening, allowing him to focus on his mission. However, you were taken aback by his genuine concern for your well-being.
“Can I do anything for you?" Sihtric asked for the sixth time already, worry etched in his voice. "You look so pale. Would you like to rest inside the wagon and try to sleep during the final miles before we reach the fortress?" His words were accompanied by a touch of genuine concern. You sat at the front of the wagon, leaning against the arch with a pained expression on your face. Sihtric had promptly taken the reins from you the moment you mentioned feeling unwell. He had seated himself beside you, casting worried glances in your direction, occasionally taking your hand or gently caressing your cheek.
"It's alright, Sihtric. I'm not dying. It's just a headache, perhaps I caught a slight cold in this wind," you reassured him with a faint smile.
As the caravan arrived at Bebbanburg early in the evening, you were assigned rooms in the far west wing of the fortress. Lord Wihtgar was absent, but his wife eagerly welcomed the merchants. It seemed that Bebbanburg had not seen many visitors in quite some time. You received an invitation to join an evening meal served for all the travellers, but you excused yourself, citing the persistent headache, and retreated to your room. Sihtric followed you.
"Are you certain you don't want me to stay?" Sihtric asked, brushing his rough fingers against your cheeks and tucking the strands of hair falling into your eyes behind your ear. His behaviour caught you completely off guard. You had expected him to lose interest as soon as he achieved his goal of entering the fortress. Yet, there he stood, gazing at you with his captivating eyes, displaying genuine compassion and concern. He offered to stay by your side or to bring you some food if you weren't up for attending the feast. What was happening? You questioned yourself, perplexed by his unexpected actions.
"That's incredibly thoughtful of you," you smiled warmly, "But please, don't worry. You don't need to stay with me. I simply want to get some rest. Tomorrow, the lady of the fortress will likely negotiate every piece of silk I've brought. I need to be in good shape for that," you reassured him, gently guiding him towards the door. Sihtric wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer and leaning in to kiss you.
"I will miss you, my beauty," he whispered, his hand hesitantly gliding down your arm from the elbow to your palm, where he pressed it lightly. Reluctantly, he turned away and made his way toward the great hall.
Sihtric strolled slowly along the lengthy corridor that led to the heart of the fortress. He was profoundly confused by the strange mix of emotions he experienced. When he initially decided to join the caravan, with the help of the young and attractive widow among the merchants, he had regarded it as nothing more than a pleasant side effect of his mission. However, the few days he had spent with you had stirred something unfamiliar within him.
You were not merely a beautiful and passionate lover; you possessed intelligence, authority, and a strength he had seldom encountered in women before. You had taken over your husband’s trade and had proven your competence and skill in what you were doing. Having travelled through various kingdoms, you possessed a wealth of captivating stories about distant places and people. You held your own opinions and fearlessly defended and debated them.
Tired and breathless after your passionate lovemaking, exhaustion and contentment settling upon both of you, Sihtric cherished the hours that followed. Lying together, wrapped in each other's arms, he held you close, breathing in your scent with his nose nestled against your neck, and enjoyed just talking to you. As the grand silhouette of Bebbanburg emerged on the horizon, Sihtric realized, to his surprise, that he did not want this journey to end so soon. He had hoped for at least one more night with you within the fortress's walls.
His mind was spinning with thoughts how to prolong the journey, to find a means to stay by your side or convince you to abandon the caravan and return with him to the village where Finan was waiting. Yet, he knew the thought was ludicrous. Why on earth would a wealthy, intelligent, and beautiful widow with her own successful trade choose to follow him to Cocchem? And even if she did, what would happen next? He had no answers to those questions. Sihtric had wanted to express his feelings, to share his emotions with you, but the words failed him. With a hesitant sigh, he had turned away reluctantly, making his way down the corridor. He had a mission to fulfil, and now that you were unwell and had declined his company, he believed it was the best moment to explore the fortress.
Descending into the inner yard, Sihtric leisurely strolled around the palisades and ramparts, meticulously memorizing their placement and assessing the potential number of men they could accommodate. As he neared the completion of his observations, a sudden noise jolted him. The hurried footsteps behind him hinted that someone was approaching, and Sihtric swiftly turned to face the person who was supposed to emerge from the shadows. Yet, before he could react, a blade was pressed against his throat from behind, and four guards emerged from a nearby pathway, accompanied by one of the traders scurrying behind them.
"It's him! He's Uhtred's man, I'm certain of it! I've seen them together in Lundene and Winchester. There's another one, an Irishman with a beard, but he stayed back at the village. It's just this damn Dane who joined us," the trader, who turned out to be one of the spies reporting to Wihtgar, hissed, pointing his finger at Sihtric.
"Take this piece of shit to the dungeon. Secure him properly," commanded one of the guards, seemingly in charge. "You are responsible for him with your life. Lord Wihtgar will return at latest in two days and will want answers from him."
Sihtric's face contorted with a scowl as the guards bound his hands, but he offered no resistance. It was pointless, with a blade pressed against his throat and four armed guards surrounding him. The plan had clearly gone wrong, terribly wrong, he thought to himself.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
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Rave | Gaz x Reader
Pairing: Gaz x f! Reader
Summary: How Kyle met the love of his life while covered in holo glitter.
WC: 2,930
Warnings: 🔥- NSFW 18+ MDI, PnV, unsafe sex, creampie, oral f! receiving; 😭- slight angst
Edited: No; added Sarah’s outfit bc I forgot 🤦♀️
A/N 1: Sorry for the long wait as I healed my cut finger. It still hurts btw. I said Christmas didn’t I? It’s still Christmas here lol 😅😅 Reader is nicknamed Angel. My first smut 😳 If I messed up anywhere please tell me. I’m not 100% satisfied so I might add or change things later on.
A/N 2: I could not pick which outfit reader should wear. 😖 It’s between these two= Outfit 1 and Outfit 2: Top, Bottom ; the makeup is the same for both= Eyes, Lips ; Shoes for both but matte instead of velvet ; Nails are a bit more simple ; Kyle’s outfit will be linked in the fic. I’m not a fashion expert so I’m not sure if these fit well but I like them. I hope you enjoy! Leave a comment or note if you do. 😊
Masterlist
Character banner ©️ Me
Kyle was happy when Price decided to send him on a special training mission across the pond to the states, at least he was for a while. But then FOMO hit him when he realized that he would be missing out on a few missions. The training would last for a few months. Two months too long in his opinion, but here he was those months later and he had finally completed his training. Kyle was certain that his Captain would be proud to learn that he had made it to the top of the class.
Now, he only had a few days left before he had to ship back out to the UK. He’d planned to chill in the barracks and maybe go to a bar for a couple of drinks. However, that was not the case when he received a random text from his cousin.
Sarah had moved out to California from their hometown after she got accepted into UCLA. She was very excited when she heard about her acceptance. Kyle believed it was because she could now party it up without the scary eyes of their very religious grandmother baring down their necks. At least that’s how he felt when he first left home to join the military.
Sarah had invited him to go out to a festival or perhaps it was a rave? He wasn’t sure because he had never been to one before so this was sure to be a new experience. He’d never been one to party, even less given that he’s living a military and not a typical college life style. However, he can say that he can handle his own with a couple of pints.
He glanced back to her text to make sure that he had input the address correctly. He was lucky that her new home wasn’t too far from the base he was staying at so he could take the bus that ran through the base. Sarah had decided that the gloomy skies of England were no match to the sunny skies of Los Angeles, so after graduating she found a job in engineering and found a place to call her own. He was honestly happy for her and was genuinely surprised that she had messaged him since they had not talked in several years. He had a suspicion that their grandmother called her about him being there.
The bus stop was only a few blocks away from Sarah’s house so he had to walk the rest of the way. It was early, almost 8 am on a Saturday, so Kyle was certain that his cousin was likely still sleeping in. He made sure that his walk took longer by taking in his environment. It must have been because of his military mindset that had him checking the area for security risks. He knows that L.A. has a bad rep but his cousin living in a decent neighborhood didn’t mean that there were no risks. Kyle didn’t see that many people out that early. Only a few dogs walkers and a mother pushing a stroller with a baby that seemed not too happy to have been woken from their sleep based on theirs incessant crying. Kyle winced when they walked by.
Kyle made it to his cousin’s door in 15 minutes. She opened the door after two knocks with a few minutes in between.
“Kyle! You’re here!” She engulfed him in a tight hug, her arms squeezing against his torso with enough strength to pop his back. “Ahhh!! It’s been forever!”
“Gah!” He wheezed as his arms were crushed to his sides. “You have gotten a lot stronger, Sarah. Please let me go.”
“Oh! Sorry. Sorry. I get a bit excited about this stuff. You know me!” Sarah let him go and cover her mouth with her hand to try to hide her laughter. Then, she flexes an arm. “I just did arm day so I’m pretty pumped.”
Kyle laughs, “Your noodle arms are nothing compared to mine.” He teased her while flexing his larger arm muscles. It was like they were back to being kids and laughing and making fun of each other.
“Har. Har. Kyle!” She rolled her eyes and gestured into her home. “Get your ass inside, Popeye.”
“Who?” His brow rose. She stared at him blankly.
“Just get in, you uncultured swine!” Sarah started pushing his back to get him in. He resisted of course, but after a few seconds he let her have her way and stepped through the threshold.
They settled on the couch and began to catch up. He learned about her job and that although it wasn’t her dream job, she was still happy about working there. Kyle didn’t tell her that much about his work being that almost all of it was classified but he shared that he too enjoyed working with his team. Overall, they were happy that the other was happy.
“Now, what’s this about a rave? Festival?” Kyle felt like he didn’t know what he was saying. “You wanted to go out later tonight?”
“Yeah! It’s a rave with festival vibes.” Sarah explained and he nodded along. “We have to dress up a bit so we can look cool I guess. That’s why I wanted you to come a bit early, though not this early!”
“Sorry.” She chuckled at him.
“Don’t worry about it. I should have known that with you military types that I should have specified the exact time. That’s on me. But! Now we have more time to go over what you’re going to wear!”
If Sarah could be more excited she’d be bouncing off the walls and out the door. Her face bright like the huge grin pulling at her lips.
“Oh… I was just gonna go like this.” He gestured at himself but apparently that did not go over so well with Sarah. She had a grossed out face.
“A button up with kakis? What are you Jake from State Farm?” Another cultural reference that he lacked an understanding of. Sarah’s accent had become more Americanized but her British voice would shine through on the occasion. “No, no, no! I will not be seen with you dressed like that, love!”
She stood up. “I think I know what to do.”
Kyle almost panicked. “Please, no cheeks handing out and nothing too girly.” His brows furrowed together. “Damn… what would my team say if they saw me like this??”
“They’d say nothing because they would see that you had girls hanging off of you. You know some girls like men who are in touch with their feminine side?”
“I don’t have a feminine side.” He pouted.
“Well, now you do!” Kyle cursed himself at being more open about what she could dress him in. He just hoped no pictures made it back to the Task Force.
~~~~~
Kyle and Sarah walked amongst the crowd heading into the music festival grounds. There were so many people there, and from what he could see, not so many security guards or police. His training had him looking around and eyeing any suspicious looking people. Although that was kinda hard when every other person had their ass and titties hanging out, with even more glitter on their bodies than he had.
They made it through security which was just a metal detector and the guards checking their bags. Then their passes were scanned and off into the throng of people they went.
“My friends texted that they were near the food stalls.” Sarah glanced up from her phone. “I told them we’d meet up with them. Come on, let’s go!”
She took off and Kyle followed after her. He felt like a protective older brother as he glared at anyone who gave her weird looks of lust. Sarah was pretty and everywhere she went she always garnered looks of appreciation from strangers. She was currently wearing a yellow outfit that complimented her skin tone rather well. Her hair was long and styled back in curls. Large hoops adorned her ears. She was also wearing a large yellow coat which he thought she was crazy for because of the heat, but she assured him that it would get colder as the night went on. He was certain that her new white shoes wouldn’t stay that way afterwards.
~~~
His own outfit wasn’t too bad if he was honest, although the sheer crop top was new for him. He liked the baggy pants that Sarah picked out and he paired it with his black combat boots. Sarah had given him two thumbs up and started messing around with her makeup bag. He was checking his outfit out in front of the mirror when he saw a hand with a makeup brush making its way to his face.
“Woah! What’ya doin’!?” He pushed her hand away. Sarah huffed.
“Just adding to the vibes. Come on it’s just some glitter, you’ll look so hot that girls will be falling all over you.” She grinned.
“You say that but I’m not so sure…” He squinted at her.
“Ugh! Just let go!” She shook her arm around.
“Okay, Elsa.”
“Bitch-!”
~~~~~
Sarah found her friends in the crowd by the food stalls. She squealed and yanked on his arm in their direction. Introductions were made and the group went together where the concerts were happening. The crowd wasn’t as pushed together as Kyle thought but he never took his eyes off the group for too long, not wanting to lose sight of his cousin. Call him overprotective if you want.
They found a spot near the middle of the crowd. The girls danced around him and he bobbed his head to the music despite it not being to his taste. Maybe he tapped his foot but he won’t admit it. Although, he’ll admit that the live band was rather good.
From the corner of his eye he saw arms shoot up and wave around. He followed the movement down and saw the form of a girl dancing and singing along to the song. Her wrists had multiple beaded bracelets, fingernails perfectly manicured. Her lips were in a smile, sparkling with her lipgloss, and her eyes reflected the bright colors of the strobe lights. Her makeup was pretty but he had no real knowledge about that. The more he looked the wider his eyes dilated.
The girl wore a black three-piece bra, high-waisted bikini bottoms and skirt-wrap combo with flowers and tuffs of faux feathers. Her arms had long sleeves and she wore a matching choker necklace. Chains dangled from her form and bounced as she jumped and danced. His eyes lowers down her legs and to her feet in very tall heels that he was amazed she was jumping around in. He thought she’d break an ankle.
When his eyes went back to her face, she was already looking at him. Brow raised in question and lips slightly pouted. Damn those lips. He flinched back a bit when their eyes connected. His cheeks burned at realizing she caught him eyeing her up.
“Hi!” She said rather shyly, or really, she yelled over the music.
It took him a moment to respond. “Hello, Miss?”
She yelled her name but said that everyone called her Angel, and he gave his own in return. The music changed to a faster beat and the people around him were dancing closer to each other.
“Wanna dance?” Her hand reached for his, fingertips sliding softly up on his forearm. He could feel the slight scratch of her nails. It sent shivers up his back.
He felt like a teenager with the slight nod to her question he gave. His damn voice was caught in his throat. He was better than this. Smoother at flirting with pretty ladies but right now all of his experience was failing him.
She giggled at him, not that he could hear it but felt it as she drew herself closer to his chest. Her breasts pressed to his shear shirt. Her hips swayed with the music and his hands automatically rested themselves there. Angel raised her hands, gliding them on his chest. Her fingers teased the sides of his throat before curling behind his neck.
As her nails scratched the short hairs there, he brought her hips closer to his. She was definitely aware that she was affecting him physically. He ground his hardness against her. They both moaned at the feeling. His eyes were droopy with lust, they glanced at her pouty lips. Someone from behind bumped him closer and he let his lips lock with hers.
Kyle’s hand tangled in her hair pulling her closer. She moaned and his tongue slipped past and tangled with hers. He tasted her lipgloss and the sweetness of the alcohol she drunk earlier that night. Both reveled in each other’s touch.
The moment was cut short by whoops and whistles to their left. When they separated, Kyle looked over and saw his cousin and her friends cheering him on. Sarah must have noticed that he wasn’t as close to them as before. His cousin gave him a thumbs up and a fist pump. The girl in his arms hid herself in his chest, her cheeks warming. As if she wasn’t just grinding up on him as they were making out.
“Ah… sorry, that’s my cousin and her friends.” He chuckled, abashed.
“It’s okay.” Angel smiled at him, taking in his pretty eyes.
~~~~~
They spent the next few hours dancing, kissing, and occasionally touching more than what would be socially acceptable. During one of the set changes, Kyle introduced her to his cousin and her friends. They hit it off rather quickly. At the end of their night, Sarah decided to stay overnight with her friends and Kyle chose to go home with Angel after she invited him. Her apartment wasn’t too far from where they were at anyways.
“I’m sorry… I don’t usually do this. Bringing home a stranger.” She glanced down. Her cheeks burned in embarrassment.
“Don’t worry. I don’t do that either.” His lips tugged into a small grin.
She looked up at him and smiled softly. Her eyes drifted to his lips. Kyle noticed and began to inch forward until their lips met. It was soft. Her lips and the motions were slow and sweet. Very different to the one in the heat of the festival. Her hands rubbed up his mesh shirt, nails scratching softly through the thin fabric before clasping tightly behind his neck. His own hands rubbed on her waist in slow circular motions.
Their kisses and touches ached and Kyle began to quickly lead her back into the room. Not that he knew where he was going. His first mistake as the beautiful woman he was currently in a delicious lip lock fell from his arms.
She yelped when her body hit the back of her couch. The suddenness of it causing her to tip backwards. She landed on the plush cushions with a soft ‘oof.’ Kyle looked down at her in shock, mouth open but no words came out. Part of her legs and feet dangled over the top. She looked up at him, eyes glancing back and forth between his own, dumbfounded before her the corners of her lips turned up and a giggle started. Then it turned into full blown laughter. Kyle grinned at her cute reaction and joined with a chuckle.
She lifted her hands up to him and as he began to pull her up, she yanked him down over the couch with her. Giggling all the while. His arms stretched out to catch himself on the cushions. He could barely think before her lips were on him once again. This time there was more heat to it. More passion.
Her hands were cupping his face. Fingers rubbing softly against his freshly shaven face. He shifted their bodies into a more comfortable position and put his weight onto one arm before bringing the other hand up. He let it glance lightly against her body until it rested softly against the crook of her neck and shoulder. His thumb rubbing her neck with an equal softness.
He felt more than he heard the soft groan that left her lips, muffled by his own. Her legs shifted and he felt her knees up against his hips. Kyle gave into the temptation and lowered his lower body until he was flush against her. This time he heard her moan. He shivered in delight.
Her tongue flicked out to lick his lips and he let her in. Their tongues danced against one another. Damn he loved the taste of her.
Angel pushed him back so that she could reach behind her to unclip her top. His mouth immediately latched on her nipple. Her back arched, a pleasured sigh escaping her lips. She felt herself getting wet, her slick soaking her black bottoms and she bucked her hips into Kyle’s. His moan vibrated through her chest.
Kyle kissed her chest some more before sliding back and removing his shirt and unbuttoning his pants. Her hands helped him pull them down, leaving him in his boxers.
“Where’s your bed?” He held her hands and helped her up off the couch. Angel led him to her room, she removed the rest of her clothes and heels and laid her bare self on the soft bed. Kyle stood by the doorway and just stared at her beauty. Her legs were slightly open and he could see the glimmer of her slick weeping from her pussy.
Angel’s face burned at his intense gaze. “Kyle?”
That broke him out of his lustful haze, swiftly removing his boxers. He hung heavily, his arousal twitching against his navel. The tip flushed and his veins throbbing. Angel licked her lips as he grew closer.
Her hand reached for his cock but was quickly intercepted by Kyle’s larger hand. “Let me…”
Angel let herself fall back as Kyle took his place between her legs. Instantly sucking and licking at her soaked pussy. His hands held firmly on her thighs, not letting her rub against his head. Kyle’s tongue flicked on her clit and she moaned rather loudly that she was sure she’d get a complaint about it later.
“Oh, fuck! Kyle!” Her nails scratched at his short hair.
The wet, juicy sounds of her slick and Kyle’s sucking turned her own, making her even more wet. He licked stripes up and down her pussy, then slipped a finger in rather easily. She was panting now, little moans interdicted with louder ones.
He added a second and then a third, really stretching her out for him. The bed sheets had her juices pooled beneath her. His fingers pumped faster and his mouth sucked harder on her clit. She moaned loudly as her walls clamped down on his fingers as she orgasmed around them. The sounds coming from her nearly made Kyle cum but he held the base of his cock with his free hand to stop his load from blowing too early.
His fingers slipped from her pussy and he watched as her slick lips clenched around nothing.
“Kyle, please…” Her eyes were pleading, flicking between his eyes and his straining dick.
“Angel…” He moaned as he tapped his tip against her clit. She wiggled her lower half in an attempt to get him inside her. She whined when he pulled away but groaned as Kyle pushed his tip just barely inside.
He huffed and then pushed all the way in, earning himself beautiful, pleasure-filled noises. He was halfway in when she half sat up and pulled him closer, locking their mouths in a heated kiss. His hips jerked forward the final few inches until their hips were touching. His arms and thighs shook from the pleasure he was feeling. Her plush pussy was sucking him in, clenching against his thick cock. Desperately trying to milk him for what he’s got. And he had a lot to give.
The first few thrusts were overstimulating, so Kyle went torturously slow. It didn’t last too long before he was pounding into her sweet pussy faster. Their bodies coming together created wet lewd sounds. His cum filled balls slapped against her ass with each hard connection. Kyle could feel her wetness dripping down his balls. The viscous fluid becoming creamier with each thrust.
“There ya go, love.” Kyle panted. “Look at those tits bouncing every, every time I fuck my cock into ya.”
He looked down at her boobs bouncing with his thrusts. A hand reached out to pinch at her nipple. Her hips bucked in sync with his.
“Ah! Ah! Kyle!” He pinched and twisted her nipple harder. “Fuck! Fuck!”
He thrusted his cock into her faster than before. His balls beginning to tighten while her walls clenched harder onto him.
“Kyle~!” Her voice going a higher pitch. The bed creaked with their thrusts.
“Shit! Ah! That’s it, love!” Kyle’s eyes began to roll back as his creamy cum left his body and streamed into hers. “Yes, ah! Fuck! Fuck!”
The feeling of Kyle’s hot cum squirting into her made Angel cum harder than she’s ever cummed before. Her legs shook violently and her back arched off the bed. Kyle’s pace slowed but her didn’t slip out as he came to a stop. Both panted hard and Kyle wrapped his arms around her, flipping them over still connected.
A surprised squeak slipped her lips and he chuckled. Then she groaned softly at the new position. He didn’t move, however, instead tightening his hold on her.
“Cuddler?” She teased, palms splayed over his chest. She could feel how fast his heart was beating as he took deep breaths.
“Can’t blame me for hugging an Angel.” The laugh that shook her body was making Kyle giddy. The movement made him groan as her pussy clenched on his softening cock.
“S-sorry.” She bit her lip. She took the moment to push against him and he let her go. Kicking a leg over, his cock slipped out along with a gush of his cum. “Ah!”
Kyle hissed as his cock slapped against him covered in both their fluids. He felt his dick hardening watching his cum drip from her twitching pussy lips.
Angel then laid next to him, her head resting against his chest. Her hand reached over his stomach to his hand. She held it as she slipped one of her bracelets she made for the festival over onto his wrist.
“To remember me…” She said it so softly, he almost missed it if he wasn’t staring at her in awe. His cheeks burned as feelings he’s rarely ever felt before churned in his chest. Her dilated eyes looking back just as fervently.
On its own, Kyle’s hand reached for her chin pulling her into a deep kiss. She moved over him again, one of his hands on her ass cheek to help not that she needed it. He gave it a tight squeeze making her moan into his mouth.
They continued their moment together past sunrise. Kyle made sure to bring her pleasure as many times as Angel could take. He hoped he’d spend more time with her in the future but knew it was unlikely since he lived on another continent. Silently, she hoped the same thing.
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