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intromortal · 2 months ago

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ꕥ NICE N' FULL ⸝⸝⸝ six different scenarios in which the enhypen members breed the fuck out of you !

⚠︎ smut. mdni. breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, p in v, dirty talking, pet names, more warnings listed for each member. total wc 4k. ⸻ rules ⋆ m.list

✷ NIA — not exactly what bae @vampsol asked for bc i went a little au-ish here :p but it's me so what did we expect. shoutout to my goat @karinasbaby for sharing a braincell with me and helping me w the ideas <3

ꕥ LEE HEESEUNG

arranged marriage, it's okay they're starting to be obsessed with each other, slight somno, oral (f. rec), cum eating

If you were to tell anyone Heeseung didn't as much as look you in the eyes about two months ago, they'd never believe you. Not if the way he's clinging to your lower half before he even opens his eyes fully is anything to go by. Still naked in bed, the wet sheets clinging to your bodies the only thing shielding you from the cool dawn air.

Marriages of convenience are rarely easy, especially for spirits as free as Heeseung, and he's made it clear to you how much he'd rather have married anyone else instead. They also come with burdensome expectations of heirs way too soon for his liking. Yet, something about your devotion to him in your most intimate moments despite your general indifference and coldness towards each other, brought the cold and hard as steel man down to his knees, a puddle of mush at your feet ready to fulfill any request.

"Hee," you mutter softly against your pillow as he parts your legs to make space for himself, and Heeseung's heart soars. A month ago it would've been 'Heeseung' or 'husband' with that venomous tone you seemed to only reserve for him, like his spot in your life was only a joke. It's different now, you're tender with him.

"Shh, pretty. Just lay here for me like this." It's still early, and Heeseung can barely see, but he wants the first thing he looks at in the morning to be your pretty hole, raw and sore from all the previous fucking, still gush his seed out. He parts your folds slowly, careful not to hurt you, and watches as his milky cum greets him, pouring out of you. It's a sight for sore eyes, and one he knows he will never get enough of. Even when he'll manage to put a child in you, he knows this is something he won't be able to let go of.

You shift, now more aware of your surroundings, but Hee is quick to keep you still. Your hand underneath your stomach faintly tingles because of its weird position, but it all fades in the background when Heeseung grabs your ass and spreads it, moving lap at where his cum is gushing out of you.

You're still sensitive from the night you spent together, but his touch is feather light and you don't really know if you want him to stop or you want more. He moans at the mixture of your tastes, pushing his tongue deeper inside your cunt like he's trying to clean you, switching so soft kisses on your lips once he's satisfied.

He makes his way up to your face, littering your bottom and spine in kisses and playful nibbles, relishing in the little sounds you make in response. Your front is still pressed to the mattress, and not seeing him almost makes you believe this is not the Heeseung that was shooting you sharp glares throughout the entire wedding ceremony. His touch is warmer, so much more delicate than the way he held your end that first night. His kisses are slow and deliberate, not empty and forced anymore. It's like soul has find its way back into Heeseung's being, after months of being a cold slate. The change started out slowly, but now you're here, and you genuinely feel like you could really love this man. Maybe a part of you does already.

His voice is the same, but the tone makes him sound like a whole different person, the forever present irritation is gone, only a playful tilt to it left as he finally reaches your ear to whisper in it. "Slipped out while sleeping, all of our hard work gone… such a pity." Heeseung aligns his cock to your weeping cunt, rubbing his head a few times along your folds, then carefully pushes in. "We have to do it all over again."

He's gentle, showering you in soft praises, and his thrusts are even slower. You've never known anything other than fucking, but you think this is what lovemaking feels like.

"So good, baby. You'll be such a good mom, you've been so patient with me even when i didn't deserve it. You'll be wonderful," he whispers in your ear, raising goosebumps all over your skin at just how sweet he sounds. "You are wonderful. You're perfect."

ꕥ PARK JONGSEONG

husband!jay, semi-public, bulge kink, he's insatiable

What better way to spend your honeymoon trip if not by getting filled over and over again by your dear, newlywed husband?

You can't think of any, but maybe that's also because you can't really think about anything that's not the delicious drag of Jay's cock against your walls. So deep inside you, pushing more even when his balls are already flush to your skin. Like he can't get enough, like he could break any barrier and mold into you as one if he really put his mind to it. He needs more, you both do.

But one thing's for sure, he's giving you his all.

"So fucking good, my wife has the best pussy. So perfect for me," he pants hotly in your ear, his large warm hand cupping your breast and separating it from the frigid glass your front is pushed against. The view from your suite is breathtaking, emphasized by the huge transparent wall, right beside the queen sized bed. At the moment though, you're not really focused on it. Nor is Jay, too busy gawking at your beautiful figure caged between his chest and the glass. He could stare at you forever. "I'm gonna stuff you full, baby. Gonna fuck you so good all trip, there's no way you won't be pregnant by the end."

You believe it, because all he's done ever since you undid your luggage in the middle of the room once you arrived to your destination is pump you full of his cum, all day, all night. And then all over again. Only stopping to get you food. You aren't safe from him when showering, even worse when taking a bath, definitely not when you're lounging around the natural pool close to your suite. It's not his fault you look so good in the bathing suits you packed and the ones he picked out for you. Jay has always had good stamina, but ever since the wedding he's been downright feral.

His thrusts are slow, but intense, like he's trying to drag the pleasure out as long as he can, savoring the way his tip nudges just the right stop that has you mewling in his hold every single time. His breath is warm against your neck and so are his grunts of pleasure, your favorite sound in the whole world.

Jay twists your sensitive and sore nipples between his fingers, only smiling into your neck when you reward him with the cutest mewls he's ever heard in his life. "Fuck, baby. I'm the luckiest man alive. I can't believe you're mine forever."

"You too," you whine in response.

"Yes baby, I'm all yours, forever. I love you much."

"Love you too," you sob, throwing your head back into his shoulder, completely overtaken by the pleasure he's giving you, allowing him more access to lick and suck on your sensitive neck.

"I know, baby. I know. You're doing so good, just a little more. My sweet girl, you'll be such a good mom. Can't wait to make you one. We'll have so many, so many cute kids running around. Doesn't that sound like a dream? Fuck, I can't wait."

The hand still playing with your tits slides down to your stomach, pushing down on it until Jay can feel his own cock thrusting into you. "Right here, you're gonna carry our baby here." He keeps fucking into you slowly, deliberately, so different from the speed of the circles he draws on your clit with the fingers that were soothing your hip just moments before. He drags out his own pleasure, but needs to give you so much more. "Come on my cock baby, milk it dry. We have so much more work to do."

ꕥ SIM JAEYUN

fwb!jake but he has feelings, he's down bad and a little subby in this one, dub-con (for jake), slight blood play (just his lip)

This is a series of mistakes. It's all Jake seems to be doing as of lately.

First of all, he's not even supposed to be in your bed again, the fourth time this week. Not when he finally came to terms with the fact that he has developed a raging crush on you and cannot keep his feelings at bay any longer, even when you two agreed this whole arrangement will only be sex and nothing else.

But he can't help it when you're so fucking addicting. You not liking him back is gonna break his heart, but at least he gets to fuck you, at least he gets a little piece of you, even if it's not exactly the one he wants.

Secondly, he should've refused to fuck you raw for the first time the moment you asked, even if the thought alone had his eyes crossing and rolling all the way to the back of his skull. But he's a weak man, for you especially, and he simply couldn't resist the temptation, not when you looked up at him with your big glossy eyes and with such a cute pout on your lip.

So here he is now, fucking you raw like his life is on the line, trying his hardest not to spill inside you too soon because if he does he might just die from embarrassment.

All he does, all he's ever done, is with the purpose of impressing you. It's like you have him chained up to this invisible leash he didn't even notice you put on him, and now it's too late to take it off. Jake means it when he says he would do anything for you.

His thrusts are shallow and quick, he's fucking you mostly with his tip, and you don't think you've ever seen him so worked up. It makes you feel things you didn't even know you needed. You like the feeling.

"You're so cute like this, Jakey," you giggle into the messy open mouthed kiss he's drowning you in, your fingers ghosting on the muscles of his back while his tremble on your waist. "Fuck me deeper, I want to feel all of you."

Jake's hips still for a second as he bites down on his bottom lip so hard he draws blood, but you don't mind at all. You even lick it clean, sighing dreamily at the iron taste overtaking your senses. Jake's eyes screw shut, and he's so close to cumming his eyes start to water. This is simultaneously the best and worst thing that has ever happened to him, and thinking that this might very well be the last time only makes his eyes wetter.

"I—fuck. I can't. I'll cum too soon."

"That's okay, we can go again," you say it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and a little piece of Jake's heart breaks. He doesn't know how much more of this he can take.

You sense his hesitation and wrap your legs around his hips, pushing them closer to your pelvis so his length fully sheaths inside you. It's so warm and big and throbbing to release his cum in you and there's not a single thing you want more. "Fill me up, Jakey. Claim me," you whisper in his ear. "Why don't you show everyone I belong to you?"

Jake resumes his movements, tentatively at first but steadily building a pace that feels good, his thrusts are deeper now, needier, and even if he were to try to pull out, you'd keep him right there. "I want to. I want you fully, fuck— please be mine," he sobs into the valley of your breasts, voice muffled as he licks and nips at your skin.

"Go on. Make me yours then. Show me how bad you want me."

And he does because fuck, he's weak. He's so fucking weak for you and he wouldn't have it any other way.

ꕥ PARK SUNGHOON

coworker!hoon, secret relationship, semi-public, degradation, jealousy, mentions of marriage

Something about the way Sunghoon's thick eyebrows were furrowed from the second he walked into the job that morning, or how his jaw clenched as he gritted his teeth whenever any of your colleagues as much as opened their mouths to say something, should've been your cue to behave for the day.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, he happens to look so damn hot when he's pissed.

And he's so filthy when he's jealous, pushing his buttons becomes your favorite challenge in times like these.

"Eyeing Jake all day like you want to bring him to the back and fuck him, are you not ashamed?" he spits, voice an octave lower than usual and barely slipping through his gritted teeth. "Bending over in front of him, touching him when you know I can see you. Do I have to mark you up for you to fucking behave for once?"

The roughness in his voice makes your eyes wet but your panties wetter, he doesn't bother to undress you, you don't have time for it anyway. You're just a few steps away from the lounge bar where some of your coworkers are surely taking a break right now. Anyone could walk in at any time, and maybe Sunghoon wishes for that to happen.

Instead Sunghoon just flips your skirt up and pushes your panties to the side, immediately rubbing his angry red tip on your folds to coat them in your own juices. He feels so incredibly hard against you, and that's how you know he must've been hiding a boner this entire time. As much as he loves to pretend he doesn't, it's little cues like this that let you know just how much he enjoys putting you back in your place. "Of course you're soaked." He barks a laugh devoid of humor but full of disdain.

"If it's my attention you want," he whispers more softly, and the switch in his attitude sends shivers down your spine, something that doesn't go unnoticed by Sunghoon, his lips curling into a smirk. "I'll give it to you. I'll give you so much of it you won't ever think about disrespecting me again."

He pushes his girth into you fully in one thrust, his rough fingers finding your clit within seconds, not even giving you enough time to savor the pleasurable sting that comes from his cock stretching you out so nicely. He grabs your jaw in his other hand, his smirk not turned into a snarl. "You'll cum, and you'll cum hard enough to milk all of me. You'll keep cumming around my cock no matter how much it hurts, until I fill you up. Is that clear?"

You would nod if you could, but his grip is too strong, so you do what you can: just stand there as he subjects you to anything his heart desires. He doesn't move his hips, doesn't give you that satisfaction, only rubs his fingers on your tiny bundle of nerves so hard it almost hurts, but you'd never ask him to stop it.

"You'll take all of my cum, until your belly is swollen by how much of it I fuck into you. I'll put a baby in you so no one else will ever mistake you for anything other than mine."

You clench around him, time and time again, just like he wants you to. Sunghoon has you under a spell, and the more he talks, the more he flicks your clit, the less you think about what's rational and what's not. You only know what he tells you, and to you that's the only truth you need to hear.

"I'll put a ring on your finger, make you my pretty little wife. Maybe even make you stop coming in, I'll take care of everything. Yeah, keep milking me like that, baby. Let me make you a mommy."

ꕥ KIM SUNOO

ewb, hate sex, degradation, marking, one singular 'slut', condom comes off!

"You're—mhh, such a bad fuck," you say over your shoulder, wanting to see Sunoo's reaction despite the uncomfortable position. You're lying through your teeth, of course. You know how much saying things like this riles Sunoo up, and the only times you feel anything akin to like towards him is when he's rough with you. It's why despite the mutual hatred that makes up the entirety of your relationship, you two keep finding yourselves skin to skin, tangled in bed sheets. You always thought you needed someone to fuck you like they hate you, turns out, what you really craved was someone to fuck you because they hate you. And the right man for the job is right behind you, thrusting into you like he wants to hurt you, his hands leaving bruises on your hips like it's their right to do so.

"Then why are you here, wetting my cock like no one's fucked you in years?" His moves are relentless, and you have to try your best to not collapse on the bed because of the sheer force behind every stroke. Your legs are shaking, but you hang on a thread just to not give him that satisfaction. Instead, you push him further.

"That guy from—mph, yesterday. He'd—" you gasp as he gives you a harsher thrust, so deep you're sure you can feel it in your guts. The angle he starts fucking you in knocks the air out of your lungs in the best way possible, and even if you're trembling under Sunoo's weight and clawing at the cotton fabric next to you, you refuse to back down. "He'd do a better job."

You don't need to see his face, you hear the smirk in his voice, and it's the kind that sends a shiver down your spine each time. "But you're here." Another sharp thrust. "You don't even remember his name."

"At least he las– lasted while fucking me raw." You feel him halt all movement, and you know this is enough to get what you want from him, but you just can't help it. "You could never."

"You're such a little fox, aren't you?" He speaks calmly, but you can feel the storm brewing under the facade. He drags his fingertips across your spine, barely touching you at all. It's embarrassing how that's enough to have you bend under his touch. He reaches the plush of your ass, grabbing a fistful of it so forcefully you can feel his nails break the skin. He doesn't stop when you complain, doesn't care for your pained moans. "You think you're so smart, but you're just a little slut. You want me to fuck you raw?"

You try to shake your head to deny it, but he knows better.

"Yes you do. Say it." His grip on your ass only gets stronger, and tears line your bottom lashes.

"I do," you whine, finally. "Please."

"Good." Sunoo releases the death grip on your skin, soothing over the red spot with his thumb lightly, like it's not him performing the action. The Sunoo you know has no time for care. "Then take the condom off of me."

Your head snaps back at his words, but he makes no sign of moving. So you do what he says, this once. You reach for this length, then carefully slide the rubber off of it. And right when he thinks you're finally behaving, you squeeze his cock so hard his hips stutter forward and you actually manage to steal a surprised yelp out of him.

Sunoo's reaction is immediate. He grabs both of your hands, uncaring for the way your elbows are uncomfortably bent, and brings your wrists together behind your back. He slides into you again in one swift motion, not giving you even a second to savor the feeling of his bare cock pushing into your heat for the first time. All of your nerves feel on fire, and as he sets a breakneck pace while keeping you down and unable to move.

"Do I have to fuck a baby into you for you to finally behave?" He gasps when you squeeze him in response to his words. "You'd like that yeah? You'd love for the man you hate to get you pregnant? Is that gonna make you shut the fuck up for once? Oh, I bet it will."

ꕥ YANG JUNGWON

fiancé!won, they're obsessed your honor, love on the floor

"You can't wait to get me pregnant, but what will you do when you won't be able to suck on my tits for months, mhh?" You giggle on Jungwon's lap, right in the middle of the empty room.

The new house still smells like new houses usually do, dry and woody, like the windows are never open. There's no furniture yet, but it doesn't stop your heart from pounding in your chest as you look around. Your home.

Jungwon's eyes never leave you though, and when you look back at him and find him smiling at you like you hold the world in your palm, you know you would be happy with every house, no matter the size or appearance, as long as he's the one you share it with.

"What makes you think that's gonna stop me?" Your fiance replies, shaking his head to move the bangs out of his eyes. "I'll even get something more out if it."

"Won!" you exclaim, hiding your face in your hands. Your heart melts a bit when you hear that familiar boyish giggle leave him, light as air, and for once in your life you feel like you've found the right spot in the world.

The warmth you feel spreads further as Jungwon starts caressing your bare thighs, until he's gripping your ass, using it as leverage to push you on his crotch.

You gasp at the feeling, and your hands find their rightful place on his broad shoulders so you can keep yourself steady as he starts to roll your hips against his.

"Won… we shouldn't—"

He shuts you up with a soft peck, resting his forehead against yours. "Why not? It's our place. We worked so hard for it, we should celebrate."

You bite your bottom lip as you think about it, but Won doesn't waste a minute and flips both of you over so you're caged between the floor and his chest. He nibbles on your ear, knowing better than anyone else how weak it makes you when he does that. "I'll make you feel so good, doll." It's like he's put a spell on you because you nod before he even manages to finish his sentence. "Just lay back and let me do all the work."

Your clothes are soon discarded everywhere around you, and your legs are wrapped around his hips as he fucks into you like he never has before. You're both a sweaty mess, panting in each other's mouths, exchanging spit any chance you get.

"Your pussy was made for me, doll. You're sucking me in so well." Jungwon moans against your lips, and you watch enamored as his eyes shut close and his eyebrows furrow, a droplet of sweat running down from his hairline. "Can't wait to take you on every surface of this house. Fuck— just leave it to me, baby. I have so many surprises for you."

"I'm so close, please," you whine, sliding a hand down his back to push his hips into you further. It makes Jungwon's pace faster, more desperate to give you exactly what you need.

"Let go, baby. Come all over my dick— yeah, just like that. You're taking me so fucking well. Such a perfect doll for me." His praise goes straight to your cunt, and you squeeze him impossibly hard as wakes of pleasure rack through your body.

"My perfect angel, you're gonna look so good swollen with our baby. Am gonna give you all of my cum, just a little more. We'll have so many kids running around the house we built. Our home forever," Jungwon babbles in your ear, and you're so fucked out you can even barely make out what he's telling you. You just know you need him to fuck you full, over and over.

His hips never stutter, despite how drenched and slippery everything is by now, a puddle of wetness pooling underneath you on the hard floor, getting bigger and bigger the more Jungwon fucks you, and you suspect the floor won't be the only surface you'll wet that day.

#✷ mortal works #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #heeseung smut #heeseung x reader #jay smut #jay x reader #jake smut #jake x reader #sunghoon smut #sunghoon x reader #sunoo smut #sunoo x reader #jungwon smut #jungwon x reader #jongseong smut #jongseong x reader #jaeyun x reader #jaeyun smut

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smutmind · 2 months ago

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Home Ground ft. Sana

Twice Sana X You

Here's a love letter to fellow fans.

"You're cute when you're nervous," Sana said, biting her lip. "I bet you're already hard for me, huh?"

Her voice wrapped around you like silk—familiar, yes, but now thick with heat and purpose. She wasn’t just teasing anymore. She was about to own you.

The ceremonial chamber shimmered under moonlight, casting soft shadows across velvet cushions and silk drapes. Petals floated in a nearby pool, perfuming the air with the scent of sweet plum and jasmine. You stood alone with her, the chosen fan among thousands, selected during Home Ground—the Secret Night. The rite where an idol rewarded her most devoted follower with her body. Her trust. Her climax.

Sana lounged barefoot in the center, wrapped in a sheer robe that clung to her like mist. Her dark eyes locked on yours, hungry. Her long hair spilled around her shoulders, framing her like something sacred and sinful at once.

She patted the cushion beside her. "Come. Let me look at what I picked."

You obeyed. She leaned close, fingers brushing your chest, your waist, then cupping the bulge in your pants with a wicked grin.

"Mm. I knew it," she whispered. "You’ve been thinking about this since the moment I said your name. I can feel it. So fat and full already."

Your breath hitched. She stood and, with a slow tug, untied her robe. It fell away like water. She was nude, radiant—pale skin, perky tits tipped with pink, her shaved pussy glistening faintly in the moonlight.

She turned in a slow circle. "You like what you see? This little body’s yours tonight. But I’m going to play with you first. Until you can’t think."

She shoved you back onto the cushions and straddled you, robe pooling beneath her knees. Her hands made quick work of your clothes. Your cock sprang free—hard, leaking. She giggled.

"Oh my god," she said, wrapping both hands around it. "This… fuck, this is going to split me open. Can I ride it raw? I want to feel every inch."

You nodded frantically. She didn't wait.

She lined you up, rubbed your tip through her soaked folds, then slowly, steadily, sank down. Inch after inch disappeared inside her.

"Fffuck," she hissed, bottoming out. Her tight pussy clamped around you like velvet heat. "So deep already... Can feel you all the way in my belly."

She started moving, grinding her hips in lazy circles, fucking you slow and mean. Her tits bounced with every thrust. You reached up—she grabbed your wrists and pinned them down.

"No touching yet," she said, voice sharp. "Just lie there and take it like a good little fan."

Her pace quickened. Wet, obscene sounds filled the room. She leaned forward, feeding you one nipple, then the other.

"Suck them," she ordered. "Like you’ve dreamed of. Make it messy."

You obeyed, tongue swirling over her nipples, lips sucking greedily as she rode you harder, faster. Her pussy squeezed you like a vice, dripping around your cock.

"You're twitching," she whispered, mouth near your ear. "Gonna cum already? Gonna shoot all that sticky fanboy cum inside me?"

You moaned, trembling.

"Do it," she gasped. "Fill me. I wanna feel you lose it."

You came hard, cock jerking, shooting thick pulses deep into her. She bit your shoulder and moaned, hips grinding to milk every drop.

She didn’t stop until you were spent, panting, body limp beneath her. She collapsed on your chest, breath hot against your neck.

But her hips didn’t rest long.

She sat up, your softening cock slipping out, wet and twitching. She giggled at the mess, then bent low and dragged her tongue slowly up your shaft.

"Still sensitive? Good," she murmured. "Now just watch."

Sana reclined beside you, legs spread wide, fingers sliding down to her swollen, needy clit. She circled it slowly, eyes never leaving yours. Her tongue kept playing with your tip, licking the cum that leaked from you.

"You came first, but I’m not done. Not even close."

Her moans grew louder, breath catching as her fingers dipped lower, slipping into her soaked pussy. She sucked gently at your soft cock between gasps.

"Watch me cum just from this. From your taste... from the way you look when you’re wrecked."

You were helpless—cock twitching uselessly, heart racing—as she fingered herself harder, her moans climbing. Her eyes fluttered.

"Fuck—just like that, yes—"

Her body shuddered, thighs quaking, one hand clutching your hip as she came. Juices slicked her inner thighs, her breath jagged as she collapsed against you, smiling through the aftershocks.

She kissed your chest, smeared in sweat and cum.

"That was just the first track," she whispered. "I’m going to ruin you before sunrise."

#smut #girl group smut #kpop smut #female idol smut #male reader smut #kpop idol smut #male reader #sana smut #sana twice #twice smut

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nyxaffixed · 1 year ago

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What if Narinder accidentally marrried the Lamb

(I have no idea if this has been done already, but i cant stop thinking about this)

In lamb culture, gifting jewelry signifies a relationship between the gifter and the reciever. Depending on where the jewelry is worn, it signifies the type of relationship formed.

Gold given by family is to be strung on the horns, or woven into the wool on the head. These are more permanent and intricate, with larger pieces being passed down family lines. Marriages are usually sealed with a ceremonial exchange of this type of jewelry.

Close friends give things that will be worn on the hands and arms. Small tokens that can be swapped out when friendships come and go.

Tokens from those outside of friends and family are usually charms that can be affixed to staffs and clothing, or placed around the house to be admired from afar.

Those that have been slighted put the respective jewelry affixed to the end of robes and staffs, or tied to the ankles, to metaphorically and physically drag that person through the dirt.

Only lovers exchange jewelry for the neck, and each piece is symbolic. It is tradition to propose with a bell, of which the quality is reflective to the love of the giver. Higher quality bells chime the most beautifully, and have a unique sound.

When The Lamb was given their bell, it was flawless, for it had been handcrafted by a god. When the Red crown was fitted on their head, the marriage was sealed. The Lamb did not protest, for who were they to deny their god? They were executed, engaged, married, and resurrected all in the span of a few mintues; loving their sudden husband came just as quick.

The one who waits was not suprised by his vessel's unflinching devotion to him. He accepted the golden jewelry they showered him with, as offerings were expected. He humored their honeyed compliments and long winded ramblings; they fought harder and worked longer when he'd done so.

The one who waits was completely surprised, when upon their betrayal, he still felt devotion from them. The Lamb still loved their husband, even if Narinder had no idea they've been married for the past 250 years.

#wedding bells au #cult of the lamb #colt #colt lamb #narilamb #cult of the lamb narinder #au idea #i thought of this while thinking about the water tribe proposals #and thought it would be funny if narider has been accidentally married to the lamb for centuries

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foreverdolly · 4 months ago

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ೃ࿔ SAVAGE BONDS part 6 『 feyd rautha x atreides!reader 』

summary: destined to one another since conception, your very life belongs to feyd rautha. as a token of good will you are sent to the strange planet of giedi prime a week before your wedding ceremony, only to learn that it is far more hostile than you imagined it would be. a failed assassination attempt has tempers flaring and sparks flying when it is decided to be safer to sleep alongside feyd. you hate to admit it, but he has played the part of a "protector" better than the guards who were tasked to watch over you. whilst you have been dreading this union all of your life, feyd has been anticipating it. meeting you as children had left him awe-struck. . . and a bit obsessed.

warnings: serious blood play ( it only gets worse from here, folks. welcome to hell), the realization that feyd has been scenting her, the harkonnen's have a supernatural sense of smell, minor talk of feelings, lots of talk and show of devotion, the baron, the mention of breeding, dubious consent.

word count: 7.6k

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ೃ࿔ savage bonds masterlist

Something dark was building up- roiling inside of him.

It had a mind of its own.

It didn’t belong to him. . . not really. It was its own entity entirely.

It called to him in the middle of the night, waking him up from a dead, dreamless sleep. For a moment he stared at the slate grey wall, searching for any imperfections. When he found none he rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. He wasn’t quite sure what he was searching for. Maybe a black hole to swallow him up. . . or an answer to his many questions.

It wasn’t in his nature to be good. If anything, it felt off to display any kind of affection. Niceties were always just a means to get something that he wanted. Goodness was something he had to practice. A skill he honed over the years so that he could carry a conversation with those that weren’t raised by the same closed, hard knuckled fists that he was.

It oozed off of you so naturally. Dripped from your mouth and your gentle hands. It was something that you freely created, and with zero effort at that. The thought of it used to infuriate him. He had heard about you, his promised one in passing. He’d always wanted you, from the first moment he’d met you back when you were children.

And while he was. . . infatuated with you? Yearned for you? Loved you? He wasn’t sure himself what it was that he felt, just that it had seeped itself into his very marrow- regardless of his feelings, he resented the fact that you weren’t cut from the same cloth. Feyd never minded the idea of putting you on a pedestal and protecting you. He’d play the part of your knight well, just as long as you’d let him relish in his misdeeds. No, he resented your kindness because he knew that eventually someone like him would use that against you. He had always wondered when it would happen. Had it happened on your planet when he hadn’t been there by your side? Or perhaps that moment had finally come whilst you were out on an excursion with your parent’s, making nice with other nobility.

You see, he hated the idea of anyone inflicting pain on you or inspiring fear in you. He wanted to be the soul owner of those sensations. Feyd could smell your fear in the air, the naturally floral scent of your skin turning slightly powdery the second that your pupils dilated and your heartbeat sped up. When he was in an enclosed space with you, like that damned closet, he could even taste it on his tongue. He often wondered if you were the same as he was in some aspects. If he choked you to the point of total oxygen deprivation would you cum harder? What if he ran his nails along your back and chest until you bled? Would you beg for him then?

No. . . probably not.

You were just as alien to him as he was to you. He didn’t see the world through your eyes, but as of late he wished that he could. Feyd wanted to know you so that he might be able to handle you better.

No. . . that wasn’t it.

Feyd wanted to know your favorite food and to be able to taste it for himself. Did you have animals back on Caladan and did you care enough about them to name them? Did you love anyone other than your family? He wanted you to tell him, in detail, what that was like. How did it feel to care for someone in that way, and how did you always make it look so easy to do so? What did you dream of when you closed your eyes to sleep at night? Did you prefer the night to the day and if you could ever get used to the thick smog that blocked your view from the sky, did you ever think at any point that you might stay with him here once everything was said and done?

He found no answers etched into the ceiling, and if they were really there, well then it was far too dark to tell. Instead he turned on his other side, his eyes instantly falling onto your resting form. He noted the way your lashes fluttered, eyes moving beneath your lids as you dreamed.

Did he haunt you the same way you haunted him?

His hand moved beneath his thin bed sheets, ghosting over your cheek. Instead he moved his finger just below your nose, feeling the warmth of your breaths. Someone had been so close to stopping those sleepy sighs completely, and while he had killed the perpetrators, the culprit was still in his own bedchambers, fat and bloated with greed.

He knew what the Baron dreamt of: death and power.

Feyd doubted that his uncle was finding any sort of trouble sleeping after what he had done. He’d gorge himself on food come the morning, another plan soon solidifying in his twisted mind.

The dark thing moved inside of his chest again, jerking awake so severely that Feyd could only sit up in bed, his hands flying to his sides so that he could grip at the mattress and not your delicate face on accident. The feathers didn’t feel as satisfying as a throat would, but he squeezed down regardless, imagining his uncle’s fat neck breaking beneath his unyielding strength. Would he try to say something to his nephew in his last moments? Would his eyes flash at his own blood’s betrayal. . . or would he stare at him in silent hatred?

No matter. Feyd reckoned that he would soon find out.

People die everyday. The weak had to be culled, that was what he had been taught afterall. Powerful men were able to move the weak like pawns, but Feyd preferred to do everything by himself. That was the difference between him and his uncle.

Feyd liked dirtying his hands. Vladimir had the numbers to command, but those men were all just as intimidated of his nephew as they were of him. The Na-Baron had two things that the “all powerful” Siridar-Baron did not: fangs and the ability to wield them. There was no weapon, unfamiliar or not, that Feyd couldn’t pick up and wield as though he had trained with them his whole life. There was no form of combat that he hadn’t honed his body with. Even worse, the Baron had raised Feyd with particular interest. He’d taught him since boyhood how to intimidate, barter, and kill legions of enemies with as little as a few words and harshly bit out threats. Above all else, Vladimir Harkonnen had taught Feyd-Rautha how to think and move across the game board just as he himself did.

While Vladimir had faceless, nameless pawns to command at will, his nephew had only one other playable piece on his side. If it had just been Feyd against his uncle then he would have already razed the entirety of the empire that he’d been raised in to the ground. He’d deliver the embers up to the black sun as a final offering before leaving. Heading for you.

Feyd wasn’t sure how something so weak could find its way to him. Better yet, that small, weak thing now lived inside of him, just as that nasty, violent entity did. There was once a time where he believed that they would always be separate. One could not live if the other was already inhabiting its host. . . but that was before.

Before that first kiss. Before the first softening of your gaze. Before you.

Slowly he laid back down, his head turning on instinct so that he could continue to watch you. So long as you were breathing then so shall he. He’d never had something that he needed to protect before. It felt heavy, but it wasn’t a bad thing- just a reminder that you were there. Still dreaming. Still loving. Death had always meant that there was something or someone better than him out there. If he had died then that just meant that he didn’t deserve to live. He had always been the type of warrior that craved to die in battle. How invigorating would it be to die by someone’s better trained hands? He’d watch with grave interest and jealousy as they carved him up. Feyd would want to feel everything. Experience it all with wide eyes so that he might learn and better himself even in his final moments.

Feyd laid there in his bed though, the idea of being a coward playing over and over again in his mind. Could he run if it meant that you’d live? Yes. That fact was startling. So much in fact that it threatened to undo absolutely everything that he’d ever been taught. Every unspoken code that he lived by was being erased, replaced by an intrinsic need to be by your side.

‘Could you accept her hatred?’ Yes, if need be.

‘Would you let her paint you as a monster if her conscience called for it?’ Whatever it took. He couldn’t look back.

‘What if it meant that she could never love you?’ Hate mirrored love in the grand scheme of things. He’d take whatever you’d give him willingly and without complaint, so long as you would let him pour his own affections into you.

Feyd would continue to take. . . and take. . . and take.

His next steps would all have to be carefully calculated. If he were in his uncle’s shoes then he would want to wait until after his enemy’s wedding, especially if it were obvious that suspicions were high. The pale man laid in bed for the rest of that night, his mind swimming with every possible step his uncle would take and might have already taken. If this were all going to work out then he would have to make sure that you were able to fight at his side when the time came. Despite his skill, it would be impossible to take an entire army on by himself, even if he timed things correctly. Feyd would have to start sowing seeds of doubt amongst his Uncle’s followers. He’d start with the men that had been assigned to his dimwit brother, Glossu. He’d no doubt side with their uncle when this all came to an end, though he’d be easy enough to dispose of. He was large, yes, but he was slow. He functioned off of anger and anger alone, which made him sloppy. Feyd could slit his throat whilst he slept and watch him gurgle on his own blood and dying breaths with not even a semblance of compassion.

This evening he needed to start small though: the guards that you’d tried to distract at the door and those that saw the two of you fleeing down the hall. Whether or not he wanted to blame the two of you being alone in the Baron’s wing together on a moment of passion, he knew that his uncle would be all too suspicious. He’d have to do away with all of them before they could say anything. Feyd could blame the killings on his recent boredom and the rising tensions before the marriage. Either way, he knew the Siridar-Baron was less likely to become suspicious of his actions if he was to blame it on his own blood lust.

He resented the fact that he’d still have to play the part of the Baron’s “beloved” nephew. Feyd wondered until the black sun rose high in the sky, the moonlight seeping from the room and plunging them in darkness yet again, whether or not he could even play nice with the man for a few more days. Everything inside of him, even now, screamed out at him: kill him. Kill him.

He’d take out your adversaries one by one as the days passed. Whether you knew it or not, Feyd was completely at your disposal.

The memory of home had collected to a single point, dripping from your mind like liquid to pool at your feet.

Your horse’s breath coming from his wide, kind mouth in thick plumes of aqueous smoke. Paul’s careful but unyielding fists flying past your cheeks in the training room. Your mother’s gentle hands cupping your face, the skin of her palms so soft and thin that you were scared that one day they might just tear against your lashes. Your father’s indulgent smile, always curious.

In the moments that you spent by yourself in your now shared living quarters you found yourself clinging to their voices as well as the exact color of their eyes. You wondered if there would be a day that you would forget all of it. You had to stand in front of the mirror just the other day, hands palming your face, trying to remember every point of resemblance between you and your twin that your parents had always so lovingly pointed out.

How long have you been on Giedi Prime? You tried to count on your fingers as you waited for Feyd to come back from wherever he’d stormed off to. How many nights have you slept in Feyd’s bed as opposed to the one that you’d been originally assigned? The wedding had been pushed back a few days due to the attempt on your life, but had your parents been made aware of the act? How many times have you eaten in the large dining room, miles of space between seats, feeling no more than a spectator of the life around you? You tried to imagine each breakfast, lunch and dinner that had been placed before you over the days, but the tan, black, and brown meats and side dishes all looked the same. They broke apart in your mouth and settled on your tongue like sand.

You remembered staring up at that black sun for the very first time with wide, horrified eyes. When did it swallow you up? What day? Hour? Minute? Mentally you turned back the clock, wondering when it was that you lost the will to count down the days, the only thought on your mind being your own survival. You’d been lost to a planet that wanted you dead.

Driven into a corner, you’d given in to your flight or fight instincts. The only thing on your mind at all hours of the day was the “when” and the “how”. When would the Baron strike next? How did he plan on taking you out? There wasn’t much of a reason to wonder why. You supposed he hadn’t taken a liking to you or had grown bored somehow. Vladimir never struck you as a man that followed the rules if he felt as though they didn’t give him a personal advantage, even the ones that the Bene Gesserit set in place.

Shaky fingers reached up to brush against your lips, as though you could still feel Feyd’s brushing against them. That man. . . that infuriating man had done something to you. His constant mind tricks were beginning to wear you down and it seemed as though you were finally buckling under the intense pressure of it all. You nearly fell forward, catching yourself against the side of one of the black settees in the sitting area, eyes closing against your will as the memory of his dominance washed over you, nearly pulling you out into a sea of want and need with the high tides of your own desire. You had been drowning for days, no buoy in sight. Eventually you’d tire yourself, fighting against the power of those waves. Even now your limbs shook with the overexertion of it all.

Your lips still tasted of sea water.

Has this been their plan all along? Were you losing your mind? The non stop seduction had somehow made such a horrific place more bearable. Bearable enough that, even in your own overwhelming paranoia, you’d lost track of how many days, hours, minutes, seconds you’d been away from everything you’d ever known and loved.

When the Na-Baron returned to the room you didn’t ask about the blood that clung to his pale skin, nor the crazed look in his eyes. By the time he was done showering, no doubt scrubbing off more carnage that your eyes hadn’t been able to see in the brief seconds that the two of you had stared at one another, the light had returned to his eyes. He was Feyd again. Just Feyd.

Perhaps even your Feyd.

He stood before you, wearing nothing but a pair of skin tight trousers that reminded you of what he so often trained in. He hadn’t dried off well enough, and you wondered if he’d been in a hurry to be in your presence. ‘Nonsense.’ You thought ruefully to yourself. The skewed view that your mind had created of Feyd Rautha-Harkonnen was nothing but a lie. A farce.

Living so closely with someone that wasn’t completely evil was more bearable than being held in a room with just another Harkonnen that wanted you dead. He was one of them, no matter how many times he tried to tell you differently.

Droplets of water ran down his pale chest. For a single, selfish moment you allowed yourself the time it took to follow one of the ephemeral bead’s trail. Down the line of his neck, pooling ever so slightly at his defined collarbone, before sliding down the harsh lines and planes of his chest and abs. It soaked into the waistband of his pants, dying there without even a whisper.

Would you die there too eventually? Would he split you into two and forget about you? Would he leave you bleeding and broken on your shared marital bed? You had to bite off a sob before it ripped from your chest, especially when he finally opened his mouth to speak after what felt like hours of prolonged, painful silence.

“Everything I do, from this point on, is for you. Even if I have to tell lies, know that my body and my mind would never betray you.” His eyes were searing, burning holes into your own.

He was constantly flickering between personalities. One second he treated you as though you were as fragile as gossamer stretched thin over your mother’s bone china, and then the next it was as though he was staring at his own reflection; like you were a mirror image of every dark desire he’d ever had.

Like called to like.

“How will I know that you’re not betraying me? Feyd, my life is at stake here. I can’t spend what might be my final hours-” He closed the distance between you in a single long legged stride, reaching out to grip your wrist in his large hand. The size difference between the two of you had once made you shake at the knees. At one point he had seemed like an unclimbable obstacle that stood between you and your freedom. What was he to you now?

“Stop talking like that,” He bit out, the muscles in his shoulders visibly tense at the mention of such finality. “I will cross one finger against the other when I’m telling a lie. Something only for you to see and to know.” He held up his free hand, demonstrating for you as he wrapped his middle finger over his pointer.

A signal.

“And how do I know that even that is the truth?” You whispered, the words painful to utter.

Lost. You were so lost here. Somewhere along the way you had forgotten which way was up and which way was down. Would anyone blame you for asking him to prove his loyalty? Was it really so selfish to need such assurance?

The pressure of his hold on your wrist loosened as he looked down at you, his jawline clicking. You could practically see the thoughts flashing behind his blue-grey eyes. Finally he settled on something, letting you go completely so that he could walk over towards the bed you had shared. Slowly he bent his large, broad body down, his pale hand running along the bottom of the frame. He retrieved a long, thinly crafted blade and showed it to you.

‘Every night that you’ve slept here could have been your last.’ It was a confession, you supposed. Was he trying to show you how weak and naive you were? You’d checked the cushions in the seating area, beneath his pillows and mattress- but you hadn’t thought to check the bedframe for any sort of weapon that could be used against you. Shame slapped you across the face, and yet again you were reminded of how weak you were.

Weak and stupid, the worst kind of combination.

He moved back over towards you, the blade still clutched in one of his hands while his other reached back out for you. He took hold of your wrist again, even as you began shaking your head. “No, please. . .” You whined out, your pupils blowing out wide as your heart began to race.

His nostrils flared and for a second he just stood there, the blade in one hand and your wrist in the other. “There’s no need to be afraid.” When he spoke in hushed tones like this it almost sounded like a hiss. You thought back to your first meeting with the Reverend Mother, your stomach clenching as a new kind of fear settled over you.

Feyd had never been a man. He had always been an animal. The person before you wasn’t. . . wasn’t like you. He could treat you softly, but things like that didn’t come naturally to him. Reassuring you at all went against the basis of who he was, and still he tried.

“My flesh is yours,” He told you, holding your gaze as he pressed the blade against his forearm. “As is my blood.” You flinched and tried to wrench your hand away from his as you watched him press against the leather handle. Onyx blossomed from the cut and fell onto your hand. It pooled in your palm as you fought to slide your wrist from his hold. It was so warm. . . and you wanted it to stop.

“Enough.” You barked out, trying your hardest to take a step back from him. He kept you in place, his face displaying no sense of pain or even discomfort.

“You’ve heard of animals chewing off a leg to escape a trap?”

He pressed the blade down harder, the small streams of blood turning into a river. It dripped from between your fingers and began to seep down the front of your linen day-dress. “Everything I am in exchange for all that you have to offer.”

“There’s an animal kind of trick.”

“Feyd, enough.” Your voice shook as you stared in horror at the blood. All of that blood. . . for you.

All that he was. All that he would ever be.

In exchange.

He dropped the blade beside him, the loud clanging sound causing your shoulders to quiver. The pale man stared at your hand for a few seconds and all you could do was watch him, your whines and prayers for him to stop whatever this was dying out on your tongue. His eyes. . . oh, heavens. You felt as though you’d disintegrate into nothing but ashes where you stood. The light in those blue eyes had been completely snuffed out and all that remained was darkness. It was almost as though the shadows that seemed to constantly wrap themselves around him had seeped beneath his skin. There were no pupils. No irises. Just. . . black. As black as his blood that now coated your hands.

He was everywhere. Feyd was everywhere you looked, every scent you breathed in, every touch and sensation- and your chest heaved with some sort of emotion that you couldn’t decipher. It felt as though your heart was ripping at your lungs, at your throat, begging to be let out. You needed to be freed of these horrible, sinful thoughts.

The pale Harkonnen warrior stared at you as though you were the beginning and end of everything. Nothing else existed outside of this room. The sight of his own life essence spilling down your skin, staining you. . . was the epitome of perversion.

This animal- this paragon looked at you with phantom eyes and wished that he could possess you.

He pulled your wrist higher up, his attention dropping down to your dripping palm. Slowly, too slowly, he dipped the tip of his pointer finger into the pool that he had created. He lifted his hand up between the both of you before pressing his thumb against your chin, prying your lips open.

You were too confused to understand what it was that he wanted from you. It wasn’t until the metallic taste of his blood spread over your tongue did you truly understand what he was doing. Your eyes, now the size of saucers, locked on his. For a brief second you thought about biting his finger. Whatever was happening between the two of you was too intense for you to handle, especially with your mental wellbeing hanging in limbo.

But you let his finger caress your tongue. You even opened your mouth wider for him, moaning when his lips curled up at your sudden obedience. His eyes flickered up to your eyes from your mouth when he heard the sound, a responding groan meeting your ears. Deep and guttural, as though he wanted you to know that he felt it too. He felt all of it. He hooked his finger on your bottom teeth, sliding them against your gums and then. . .

Then he released your mouth. “Swallow me.”

And so you did. The thickness of it coated your mouth and tongue, marking you from the inside out. You weren’t sure why you were so willing to do as he told, but there wasn’t a single part of you that didn’t want to please him at that moment.

It was almost as though he had watched the fight and the fear drain from your body. You stood there, languid and malleable before him.

It was odd. . . but it was like you could finally breathe for the first time in days.

“You never ask for permission.” You couldn’t project your voice the way that you wanted to. You had spoken in a barely audible whisper.

“No,” His voice was low enough to be considered a hum in response. “Never.”

And as if to prove that as fact, Feyd lowered his lips down onto yours. His grip was still on your stained wrist and you were positive that if he hadn’t been holding you in some way then you might have just floated away. The floor would have swallowed you up whole. . . or that black, black sun. The strength of his bruising hold acted as a tether, tying you to the floor and to him. Your lips tightened, compressing for a split second against the softness of his kiss. It wasn’t as searing as the other ones had been. A part of you reviled this small shred of humanity that he was showing you, the paranoia still biting at the back of your mind. Was he doing this to disarm you?

But you remembered his blood and his promise. You could feel it beginning to dry on your skin, growing cold and tacky: a reminder. His flesh was yours.

In that instant you yielded- submitted fully to all of it. You assaulted his mouth with your own, lips melting against his as your free hand moved up to cup the side of his neck, pressing him harder against you. The suddenness of your surrender had him staggering, his hold on your wrist loosening in his shock before he finally let you go, his strong arms wrapping around you so tightly that you feared that you might be crushed into his chest.

Would you really mind that though?

You allowed his lips to birth you anew and gave into the deranged desires. If this was what it meant to be mentally insane then. . . you weren’t sure if you wanted to be put back together again. His lips moved against yours, tongue curling into your mouth in such a way that you couldn’t help but wonder what other parts of you he could set ablaze. He owned your mouth, just as he had before when his finger had slipped past your teeth.

No doubt he could taste the metallic film that still clung to your tongue, and you let him. Your newly freed hand slid along the expanse of his chest, and without needing to see it you knew that you were leaving your own marks. Hands, fingers, blood- it was everywhere.

No matter how close he pressed himself against you it still didn’t feel enough.

Feyd was kissing you with a fervent need- not to own you, but as if he truly couldn’t get enough. He pressed his lips against yours as though he could absorb you into his body. It would be safer there, you thought. If he wanted to breathe you in then you would damn well let him.

He broke the kiss so that he could look at you, and after he had gotten his fill he pressed his lips against yours in small pecks. Once, twice, and then his eyes opened once again. The hunger in his eyes was still there, of course, but there was a strange sense of longing there too. He looked as though he wanted to say something, but before he could open his mouth you were stepping up on your toes, pressing your lips against his neck.

You thought of every demented thing you’d wanted to do to him since you’d been stuck on this forsaken planet. At one point you’d wanted to gut him, then silence him and now. . . now you wanted him so badly that your hands shook as they began to pull at the waistband of his pants. The sound he let out was so loud that you were positive that someone had to have heard it. The moan was all beast, no hint of man to be found.

“You’re covered in it,” He panted out, tilting his head to the side so that you could continue biting and licking at his pale neck. His skin tasted of the spicy, herbal soap he had used in the shower. You wanted more of him. All of him, in fact. “On our wedding night I’ll give you even more of it.” He promised, his hands moving to braid themselves into your hair. The tips of his fingers massage your scalp roughly, and when you bite down a little too hard on his soft skin you can hear a few strands of your hair popping as they are ripped from the roots.

“I’ll mark every inch of your body,” He removed your hand from the waistband of his pants, and right when you were about to cry out a complaint he pressed your palm against his straining front. He allowed you to run your fingers along every inch of him, shuddering at the feel of your fingers- so tiny- brushing against him. “Make you drink it even.”

Those words tumbling from his lips sounded, in a fucked up way, as though he was worshipping you. The dam had burst wide open and the two of you could do nothing to keep Feyd from uttering every cursed, demented thought he’d ever had about you.

“I’ll coat myself in it. My blood and cum belong in and on every inch of you.”

You were finally touching him. Not because he was forcing it out of you but because you chose to. Again and again, as your fingers continued their exploration, you reminded yourself that this was what you wanted.

More, more, more.

“Na-Baron?” No one, not once over the days that you’d spent in Feyd’s quarters, had ever dared to knock on the door. Usually they’d place your meals just outside of it around the same time each day, not wanting to be sliced to ribbons after everything that had happened. The sound of the foreign voice cooled your hot blood so quickly that you swore that you could hear it fizzing in your ears, the heat being replaced by white, cold terror.

For a few elongated moments Feyd stared at you, his breathing labored. You watched as he sucked in a singular breath, caging it in his lungs for a beat before blowing it out slowly. One step at a time he detached himself from you, looking pained all the while. You silently cursed whoever it was that had interrupted the both of you.

This had been the first thing that you had, quite possibly, ever done for yourself. Every day, even back on Caladan, had been spent training with Paul. Since the day of your birth you had known that you would be shipped off, married to someone that you knew very little about. Every day had become a waiting game, filled with meaningless marriage training.

This moment had been just for you. You had wanted him more than anything, and if not for the interruption then you would have more than willingly given yourself to him completely. It was all so complex, and you weren’t sure of the meaning behind it all. Had you come to care for Feyd or was it just the release that you were searching for? Either way, you had wanted it. Whatever it meant.

“What is it?”

You tried to drown out the voices as you slowly moved away from the sitting area and further into the room, realizing now that the two of you probably looked deranged. As you stared down at your clothes you finally noticed that this was all. . . so gruesome. With a small gasp you began pawing at your dress, noticing the sheer amount of blood that had been spilled. How deeply had he cut himself? Was he still bleeding, even now?

You hurried to the bathroom, turning the sink on so that you could wash your hands.

This place felt as though it had already stolen years of your life from you, when in actuality it couldn’t be more than two weeks. Still, you’d lived every hour on edge and in constant earth shattering terror. For the first time in those three hundred and thirty-six hours you didn’t feel alone. In fact. . . you felt good, if anything. A ten ton weight had been lifted from your chest.

You didn’t just have a protector. An Atreides had somehow managed to find themselves a damned champion.

“Our presence is needed at the arena,” Feyd started, crowding the door frame as you continued to scrub at your fingers. One of his hands reached out, as if to stop you, but he let it fall back at his side before his fingers could grip yours. “We need to make an appearance.”

Yes, you should have expected that. Everyone must want to see the sacrificial lamb that had been led to the slaughter.

The black sun had set a few hours ago, and the light of the moon was blinding as you were led down a long black corridor and up a steep, obsidian staircase. The new color palette of your life: black, grey and white- it blinded you now as you gripped Feyd’s steady hand. The balcony had a clear view of the entire arena, the white sand below catching the rays of the full moon that hung high, suspended in the air above you.

A few cloaked figures were seated, their backs towards you as they stared out at the scene unfolding before them. A loud voice that you didn’t recognize was narrating the carnage, the loud screams and voices of the crowd assaulting your ears. The arena itself reminded you of the training grounds that you and Feyd had spent much of your time over the last two weeks. It was so strange to think that it had been two full weeks since the day that you had threatened the Harkonnen man out on that sandy terrain, poised and ready to kill him. Back then you had wanted to spill his blood, especially if it had meant that you could find your way back to your family.

It had been a fool's errand: husband or not, you were never meant to return to the life that you had lived before.

The black gown that had been prepared for you was uncomfortable and so long that you had to kick your feet out just so that you wouldn’t trip on the train. You felt ridiculous and missed the breathable fabrics and gossamer of your home planet. As you looked out at the sea of spectators you realized that you blended right in. If you had been wearing a veil to disguise your facial features then you would have been just another Harkonnen, jowls wide and drooling as you stared out at the bloody terrain. Thirsty for carnage and wrath.

The sun had begun to change you. You were no longer favored by the light.

The hand clutching yours was a stark reminder of that, as was the way that you clung to him right back. “An hour. Tolerate this for an hour.” He whispered in your ear.

His lips were still swollen from your kisses. The moment that had been shared between you had been far from gentle, but it had been the closest thing to loving that you’d ever experienced. You didn’t startle as he reassuringly squeezed your hand.

The Bene Gesserit’s eventual arrival had been expected. You knew, eventually, someone from the Order would come and check on how the marriage ceremony was proceeding. You doubted that they’d been made aware of the recent threats.

It was doubtful that they’d even care.

You’d recognized the old, hateful hag even with her veil on, the downward tilt of her lips visible even from a hazy distance. You squint your eyes against the light, bowing your head ever so slightly as you began to take the empty seat beside her. Imperceptibly Feyd reached out, moving around you so that he could take the seat next to the familiar woman and his uncle. It was a kindness that you happily accepted.

“Mother.” It was a practiced greeting, but she nodded her head in your direction, her eyes still cast towards the arena.

It took a few seconds for your eyes to adjust fully to the light, the white bodies in the sand finally actualizing themselves as your pupils dilated. A man was on his knees, crawling towards a discarded dagger. The white landscape beneath him had been dyed with his blood.

It was nothing you hadn’t seen before. You tried to rationalize that fact with yourself once you discerned that one of his legs had been completely severed at the knee. Still, as he inched forward, digging himself even further into the sand beneath him, you couldn’t help the bile that began crawling its way up your throat.

“The gladiators know how special tonight is for the two of you,” Vladimir said with a sneer, his eyes catching on your face. “They were instructed to make it as flashy as possible.”

You had to turn your head, the disgust darkening your eyes as you cast down your gaze.

“You indulge me too much, uncle.” Feyd’s lips tilted up with a sick grin, one that you recognized from days past.

The warrior- if you could even call him that- gave a final cry as he finally reached his blade. The poor bastard wasn’t even given enough time to grip the hilt in his bloody palm before the gladiator struck down with his own kindjal.

It sliced through the air in a wide ark, cutting through shadows, cloth and bone as it hit its mark. The sound drained from the surrounding stands as the Harkonnens stood up on their feet. Their pale, terrifying faces gaping as they took in the carnage.

Your chest heaved before you could stop yourself as you watched the warrior’s decapitated head roll across the ground, his eyes wide and lifeless. You were too caught up in the moment to even realize that Feyd had gripped the bell-sleeve of your dress, yanking you back down as you began to stand up.

Escape. You needed to escape.

“Your promised one seems eager to get up close.” The baron chuckled in his seat, having seen your reaction.

“Our customs are unfamiliar to her. She will learn in time.” Feyd’s excuses for your strange behavior were becoming second nature to him now.

“Perhaps you are eager to show her how skilled you are,” The Baron leaned forward ever so slightly so that he could meet your gaze, his chair creaking beneath his weight. “Your future husband is the most skilled gladiator that Giedi Prime has ever bore witness to. No one in this entire arena could ever match his might.”

“I feel incredibly lucky.” And you did. Knowing that he was planning to help you fight your battles settled your stomach, but you couldn’t help but imagine yourself in that poor warrior’s place. The Harkonnens were no doubt wishing that you would get pushed onto that cold sand so that your colored blood could paint their arena walls.

As if on cue the animals began to scream, raising their palms up to the sky as the gladiator gripped the severed head by its hair. Slowly he turned, letting every woman, man and child get a good view of the brutality of it. Finally he turned to you, his black eyes seemingly glaring straight through you.

“An offering, lady Atreides.” He called out over the screams.

Beside you Feyd tensed, the muscles in his jaw jumping as he bared his teeth at the other male. The Baron laughed loudly, clapping his hands together in gleeful approval. “It seems Feyd is eager to give you an offering of his own. Why don’t you volunteer yourself to fight?”

The man beside you seemed tempted to take his uncle up on that offer. Whatever the other male had just done must have been a sign of disrespect.

“He’s goading me,” Feyd seemed to read your mind, his blue eyes narrowed on the other pale creature below. “He’s presenting himself to you.”

The warrior continued to grin up at the balcony, his eyes promising bloodshed.

You blinked, stomach churning as you slowly turned to look at the reverend mother. She kept her eyes on the warrior, feigning interest. She must have seen much destruction in her long life because the old crow didn’t even bat an eye at the scene before her. She looked just as disinterested as she had that very first night you had made her acquaintance. Being stranded here with the Baron and reverend mother was a terrifying thought, but you didn’t dare beg Feyd to stay with you. The last thing you needed to do was show weakness to either one of them.

So you sucked in a small breath and straightened your shoulders, looking expectantly at the both of them. You waited for the Baron to stand up and declare that his nephew would be dueling the unruly gladiator. No doubt you’d be cornered the second that he stepped away from the balcony. Not once had you been left alone with the Baron, and you silently wondered if his hatred would slip into his speech the second his “adoring” family member was out of earshot.

“I wish to be married before I present her with an offering of flesh.” Feyd said through clenched teeth, his eyes still on the gladiator. The two of them seemed to be having a standoff with their eyes, communicating something that you couldn’t see nor understand.

“The both of you already smell heavily of bloodletting. It seems to me that the two of you are already bound.” The Baron seemed smug in his observation, especially when you quickly whirled to face him with wide eyes.

Smell? He could. . . smell Feyd’s blood on you?

Feyd’s lips tilted up into a small, cocky smile as he turned to face his uncle. “You wanted us to try for offspring as soon as possible. We have been quite busy these last few days.” He placed his hand in yours as he spoke.

One finger curled over the other inside of your palm. A lie.

“I am pleased to hear so.” And the Baron, despite his apparent hatred of you, did seem pleased. He didn’t actually want Atreides-Harkonnen children running around.

No, he was pleased that his nephew had deflowered and sullied you.

“There will be another time for me to properly show my wife what I am capable of. I will offer her that man’s head as a wedding gift.” Feyd promised, and with the look on his face you were sure that he would deliver it to you on a silver platter.

Your grip on sanity must have slipped. The black sun must have finally tainted your heart because heavens, with the new knowledge that the Harkonnens possessed an unnatural sense of smell, you had to press your thighs together in the hopes that no one around you could smell your arousal.

“Yes,” The Baron hummed pridefully, his lips turning up into a secretive smile. “I have a feeling that our lady Atreides will become well acquainted with the arena in due time.”

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moonmaiden1996 · 5 months ago

Text

Love at First Sight (According to Nagumo, Anyway)

(Now a Series)

The fluorescent lights of Sakamoto’s convenience store buzzed faintly as you stepped inside, your body heavy with exhaustion. It had been an unbearably long day, and all you wanted was a cold drink before heading home.

You barely registered your surroundings as you trudged toward the refrigerated section, focused only on grabbing the first thing in reach.

You didn’t notice him.

Nagumo was already there, lazily leaning against the shelf, twirling a pack of Pocky between his fingers like it was some kind of weapon. He had been in the middle of pestering Sakamoto, as usual, when he caught sight of you walking in.

And just like that—bam.

Nagumo’s world stopped.

The second he laid eyes on you, something inside him shifted. He had faced assassins, evaded death, and pulled off impossible tricks countless times, but nothing—nothing—had ever hit him as hard as this.

You were exhausted, barely paying attention, completely unaware of his existence. And yet, in that moment, he knew.

“This is it,” Nagumo whispered, staring at you with wide, lovestruck eyes.

Sakamoto didn’t even look up. “What?”

Nagumo grabbed his sleeve, eyes still locked on you like you had personally descended from the heavens. “Sakamoto. That’s my wife.”

Sakamoto finally looked at him, unimpressed. “No, it isn’t.”

Nagumo ignored him, straightening his posture and smoothing out his jacket like he was about to meet royalty. He practically floated toward you, his usual smug confidence now mixed with something far more intense.

You, meanwhile, still assumed he was just another late-night loiterer. When he stepped into your path, smiling far too brightly for this time of night, you barely spared him a glance.

“Move,” you mumbled, reaching past him for a can of coffee.

Nagumo inhaled sharply, clutching his chest as if struck by Cupid’s most devastating arrow.

“She spoke to me,” he whispered in awe.

Sakamoto sighed loudly from behind the counter.

You, still too tired to care, moved toward the register. Nagumo immediately followed, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Rough day?” he asked, his voice softer now, but still carrying that teasing lilt.

You barely acknowledged him, handing Sakamoto your drink. “Yeah.”

Nagumo beamed. “Don’t worry, my love. From now on, I’ll make sure every one of your days is perfect.”

Sakamoto shot him a deadpan look. “You just met her.”

Nagumo turned dramatically. “And yet, my heart has already chosen.” He looked back at you, completely unbothered by your utter lack of interest. “We should set a date.”

You blinked, finally looking at him properly. “…What?”

“Our wedding,” he clarified, smiling like this was the most normal conversation in the world. “I mean, we can take it slow if you want, but I’m thinking a spring ceremony. Cherry blossoms, romantic atmosphere—you’d look stunning.”

You stared at him, then at Sakamoto, then back at him.

“…Are you drunk?”

Nagumo gasped, placing a hand over his heart. “Sakamoto, she wounds me.” He turned back to you, grinning. “No, my dear. I’m just madly, deeply, and eternally in love with you.”

You exhaled sharply, grabbed your drink, and walked straight out the door.

Nagumo watched you go, completely undeterred. In fact, if possible, he looked even more smitten.

“She’s amazing,” he sighed dreamily. “I’m definitely marrying her.”

Sakamoto rubbed his temples. “You’re an idiot.”

Nagumo grinned. “Yeah. But a devoted one.”

Like. Comment. Request

#nagumo yoichi #nagumo x reader #nagumo x you #sakamoto days anime #sakamoto days #nagumo sakamoto days #nagumo #sakamoto

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mrsvante · 1 month ago

Text

Honorably Discharged

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: idol au, established relationship, pfp

summary: he served his country. now he’s coming home to you. eighteen months of distance. eighteen months of longing, discipline, and denial. but no amount of time, no uniform, no public ceremony can restrain him once he sees you again.

warnings: military discharge, dom!taehyung, oral for everyone, fingering, desperation, devotion & downright destruction 😈, degradation, overstimulation, mirror sex, fluffy aftercare

word count: 4,480

a note from our sponsors 💁🏽‍♀️: sooo i prepared a drabble for each of the boys in honor of them completing their military service. i might add one for jin & hoseok at a later date. but hope you enjoy!!

WE ARE BACK 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜✨

The cameras were a blur. A white hot flash here, a reporter’s question there—none of it mattered.

Not really.

Taehyung bowed when expected, smiled when they asked. Nodded solemnly, let his gaze linger on the crowd like he was soaking it all in, like he was basking in this ceremonious farewell. But it was all muscle memory at this point. Empty performance.

The ache in his jaw from forcing that gentle smile didn’t come close to the throb in his chest. Every second dragged. Every cheer, every congratulation, every prescripted word he uttered to the press, useless.

He didn’t want to be here.

He wanted to be inside you.

He shouldn’t be thinking like this, not with cameras pointed at him, but fuck if he could help it. Eighteen months. Eighteen months of discipline, suppression, polite nods, and wet dreams in the dark. No amount of self control could erase what the sight of your name on an envelope or the sound of your voice over the phone did to him. No picture or voice note was enough. You weren’t real to him until you were underneath him again.

He exhaled slowly, blinking through the final press call before murmuring, “Thank you,” one last time. His manager’s hand landed on his shoulder. Time to go.

The SUV was idling at the curb, dark tinted, familiar. But it wasn’t the car he saw.

It was you inside it.

He didn’t walk. He stalked toward the vehicle like something feral, the uniform on his back a barely there leash around a beast that had waited far too long.

The back door swung open and there you were. Eyes wide, lip caught between your teeth, nervous and glowing. And before you could even say his name he was on you.

His arms caged you in, his scent all clean soap and masculine spice from the base. His lips crushed yours, tongue prying into your mouth like he meant to stay there.

The kiss wasn’t sweet. It was starved. A collision. No finesse, just hunger.

You whimpered against him, fingers tangled in his beret as he growled into your mouth. His hand found your jaw, held you steady as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, hips rolling once, hard, against yours like he couldn’t help himself.

“Tae,” you breathed, barely coherent. “We’re in public…”

The words hit like a splash of cold water.

Taehyung froze, eyes still closed, breath ragged as he pulled back just enough to look at you. Your lipstick was smudged, your lips swollen, and he wanted to ruin you. Right here. Right now.

But he nodded, jaw clenched so tight it ached. “Get me home,” he rasped. “Right now.”

—

The moment the front door clicked behind him, he snapped.

You’d barely kicked your shoes off when he was on you again—gripping, kissing, unbuttoning with frantic hands like your clothes had personally offended him. You laughed at first, breathless and warm against his mouth, but the sound melted into a moan when his teeth scraped your collarbone.

“Don’t laugh,” he whined, dragging the hem of your top up over your head and tossing it somewhere behind him. “Not when I’m two seconds away from fucking losing it.”

You reached for his uniform jacket, but he slapped your hands away, growling against your skin, “No. Let me. Been thinking about this too long to rush it.”

His fingers trembled as they popped each button down your front, exposing your bra. Then he paused. Just long enough to look at you.

His lips parted. A guttural sound escaped.

“Fuck… You’re unreal.”

Your hands went to his belt, but he dropped to his knees before you could finish.

You gasped. “Tae—”

“No,” he said, voice wrecked, eyes wild. “You don’t get to speak right now. Not until you’re crying on my tongue.”

He lifted you, hands cupping your ass as he carried you like you weighed nothing. One arm wrapped around your thighs, the other ripping at the clasp of your bra with brutal urgency. He dropped you onto the plush sectional, and before you could even gather your thoughts, he was tugging your pants down with feverish, jerking movements.

“Spread,” he hissed. “Now.”

You did.

Or maybe your legs fell open on instinct, Taehyung didn’t care. All he saw was your slick, swollen pussy glistening like a reward for every sleepless night. He dropped his head with a shudder, dragging his tongue up the center of your folds with a groan so deep it vibrated through your thighs.

“God, fuck,” he breathed. “I forgot how sweet you taste. No—no, that’s not right. I dreamed about how sweet you taste, and it still didn’t come close.”

His tongue curled against your clit, soft at first, like he was reacquainting himself with his favorite meal. Then he moaned into you, like your cunt was the first real thing he’d had in a year and a half.

You whimpered, hips lifting, but he slammed your thighs back down, arms hooked under your knees to pin you open. “No running,” he growled. “You stay right fucking there.”

He flattened his tongue against your clit and began devouring you. Sucking and licking. Letting his teeth scrape ever so slightly.

“Tae—ohmygod—”

He pulled back only to slap your inner thigh. “Did I tell you to talk?”

You shook your head frantically, eyes wide, chest heaving.

“Didn’t think so.” He slid two fingers into you, slow, and then crooked them just once, and you cried out, hands flying to your face. “That’s right. Be good. Let me hear how much you missed me.”

The wet squelch of his fingers and the obscene slurping of his mouth echoed in the room, but Taehyung didn’t care. He’d waited for this. Earned this. Every groan, every whimper, every flutter of your walls around his fingers, he drank it all in like air.

“You’re dripping, baby,” he whispered, nuzzling against your clit. “You fucking missed me, didn’t you?”

You nodded, a broken sob catching in your throat.

“Say it,” he commanded.

“I missed you—so much—oh my god—Tae—please—”

Your words dissolved into screams as he curved his fingers and sucked hard on your clit in tandem. Your thighs clamped around his head but he only groaned in approval, fucking his fingers deeper, faster, and rougher until your orgasm exploded against his tongue with a wild, keening cry.

He didn’t stop.

Didn’t want to stop.

You were twitching, sobbing, trying to crawl away, but he chased you, fingers still pumping, lips still dragging along your slit. “Thought about this every night,” he panted. “Jerking off in silence, pretending my hand was your pussy. Thinking about how tight you are, how wet you get. Fuck, I’d cum just thinking about you moaning my name.”

“Please, Tae, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can.” He gave you a devilish grin, eyes dark. “You’re gonna come again. And again. Until I say you’re done.”

Your second orgasm crashes through you like a thunderclap moments later. Loud, shattering, inescapable. You sob into the crook of your arm, thighs quaking around Taehyung’s shoulders as he licks you through it, savoring every ripple, every shake of your body against his tongue.

When he finally pulls back, lips shiny with your release, eyes heavy with lust, he looks wrecked. Disheveled. Starved. His jaw flexes as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, staring down at your spread thighs with a look that could peel paint off walls.

“Baby…” His voice cracks. “I can’t—fuck—I need your mouth.”

You’re still gasping, still recovering, brain thick with the fog of your orgasm, but the moment you hear him plead, you blink up at him. Your lips parted, pupils blown, heart stuttering at the desperation in his voice.

“Please,” he rasps, reaching for you. “Come here. On your knees for me. I’ve been thinking about your mouth for months, jagi. Thought about how warm it is, how wet, how you moan around me when I fuck your throat—”

You crawl forward like a woman summoned, limbs still trembling, but your eyes locked on his with feverish intent. Taehyung groans, loud and low, as you sink to your knees in front of him.

“That’s it,” he whispers, eyes fluttering shut for half a second. “That’s my girl. Always so good for me.”

Your fingers reach for his belt, fumbling at first, and he catches your wrists, gently helping you undo the buckle, button, and zipper. His hips already arching into your hands with frantic need. You shove the waistband of his fatigues down, dragging his boxer briefs with them, and…

Fuck.

He springs free, thick and flushed, the tip already leaking. Veins prominent, shaft heavy, twitching like it’s aching for your touch.

“Oh my God,” you breathe, and he laughs—shaky, strained, already panting.

“Don’t say that unless you’re ready to worship,” he groans, thumbing your cheek. “You see what you do to me? Look at me, baby—look what just thinking about your mouth does.”

You wrap your hand around his cock and he nearly crumbles.

“Shit—fuck, fuck, fuck—don’t stop,” he hisses, hips jerking slightly. “Just like that. I’ve been so fucking hard for weeks and had no one to touch me but me. You know how sad that is? Stroking myself in the bunk with your name in my mouth, praying nobody walked in…”

You lick a slow, teasing stripe from the base of his cock to the tip, letting your tongue flick at the bead of precum gathered there.

Taehyung whimpers.

“I swear to God,” he chokes out, “if you don’t let me cum in that pretty mouth, I’ll fucking lose my mind—please.”

You don’t make him wait.

You slide him into your mouth with slow, deliberate intention, inch by inch, feeling the weight of him settle on your tongue like he was always meant to be there. His head falls back immediately with a guttural groan, hands twitching at his sides like he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“Oh fuck, yes. Baby… baby, your mouth.”

You bob your head, tongue swirling around the tip every time you pull back, then sinking deeper, hollowing your cheeks and swallowing the moans that tremble from his thighs.

Taehyung tangles his fingers in your hair, just like you want him to. Just like you need him to.

“You want me to fuck your mouth, don’t you?” he pants, hips jerking. “Want me to use you like you’re just a little cock sleeve? My own personal toy?”

You moan around him, and he shudders.

“Fuck—yes, that’s it, take it, take all of it, baby. Deep throat that shit—just like that. My dirty little girl. My good girl. God, you’re so fucking good to me—”

You grab his thighs and relax your throat, taking him deeper, eyes watering slightly from the stretch. He groans again, body trembling, every muscle tense as he fucks shallow, needy thrusts into your mouth.

“Too long,” he gasps. “Too fucking long—I’m gonna—shit—I’m cum, baby, please, don’t stop, don’t stop—please—”

You speed up, moaning around him, fingers fondling his balls with practiced care.

His thighs tremble.

His grip tightens.

Then he breaks.

With a strangled cry, Taehyung throws his head back and explodes into your mouth, hips stuttering, cock pulsing wildly as he spills down your throat. He’s loud, unabashed, panting curses and love like his sanity depends on it.

“Fuckfuckfuck—you’re perfect—I love you, I fucking love you—so good to me—so good—don’t stop, baby, please—”

You suck him through it, letting him fuck your mouth even as he twitches and groans, his thighs quaking, your lips stretched around him like a prayer. When he finally stills, you swallow with a pleased hum and slowly pull back, licking your lips.

Taehyung drops to his knees in front of you, eyes dazed, face flushed, hands cradling your jaw as he crashes his mouth to yours.

“God, I missed you,” he groans against your lips. “You’re so perfect. So fucking perfect. That mouth is gonna ruin me.”

You giggle softly, breathless and swollen, but he’s already hardening again, twitching against your thigh.

And this time, he lifts you into his arms, stands, and carries you toward the bedroom—his voice a dark whisper against your ear.

“Now I’m going to fuck you like I’ve dreamed of every night for the last five hundred days.”

—

He carried you down the hall like a soldier returning from war with his most prized possession.

Because he was. Because you were.

His arms were tight around your waist, your breath ghosting against his neck, your fingers curled weakly into the collar of his uniform as if you knew something primal was about to tear loose.

And it did.

The moment he stepped into the bedroom, Taehyung didn’t hesitate. He tossed you onto the mattress like you weighed nothing, and before you could even blink, he was on you again.

He gripped your hips, flipped you onto your stomach, and shoved your ass up with both hands until your knees sunk into the mattress and your face was buried in the pillows.

Then his mouth found you, and you screamed.

Because his tongue was back on your pussy, and his thumb—God, his thumb—pressed between your cheeks to toy at your other hole like he had every right to touch you there too.

“Stay just like that,” he growled against your folds, voice soaked in heat. “I want to see this pussy shake when you cum.”

You moaned so loud the sound bounced off the walls. He grunted into you, devouring you from behind like he was starving, dragging his tongue from your dripping slit to your clit and back again.

His thumb circled your ass slowly, teasing but never invading with just enough pressure to make you writhe.

“Oh God, Tae—please—oh fuck—please—I can’t—”

“You can,” he growled, tongue flicking ruthlessly over your clit. “You will. Gimme one more, baby. Just one more, I know you can. You’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

You sobbed into the sheets, nails clawing the mattress. And when his thumb pressed just a little deeper, your whole body snapped.

The orgasm ripped through you. You screamed, trembled, your body jerking as if it didn’t belong to you anymore, and Taehyung just held you there, tongue still working you, sucking every last drop of pleasure until you collapsed into a quivering mess.

He kissed your inner thighs, murmured something obscene you couldn’t even process, then eased you onto your back.

He stood at the edge of the bed, bare and beautiful, cock in hand, pumping himself in long, lazy strokes as he looked down at you like you were salvation incarnate.

“Look at you,” he whispered, eyes glassy, lips parted. “Spread out like this. Shaking. Fuck, baby… you broke for me.”

You blinked up at him, dazed and trembling. “Tae…”

“I love you,” he murmured, voice suddenly soft. “I fucking love you so much, it hurts.”

Then the softness cracked.

He grinned and hissed through his teeth, hand stroking harder. “And I missed this pussy. Missed the way she looks, swollen and dripping. Missed the way she pulses for me. Look at that—look how she’s clenching just from watching me jerk off. You want this cock, baby?”

You nodded, moaning. “Please.”

“Say it.”

“Please, Tae—please fuck me—I need it—I need you.”

That broke him.

He crawled over the bed with the grace of a predator, thick thighs settling between yours as he guided your legs up—one, then the other—over his shoulders. And then he looked down.

“Goddamn,” he whispered, thumbing your clit gently. “This pussy is a fucking dream. Look how swollen she is. How sensitive. She’s crying for me, baby. You see this?”

You cried out, lifting your hips, desperate for him to do something, anything, but he just chuckled darkly.

“You wanna be split open?” he muttered, positioning the head of his cock at your entrance. “Wanna be filled up so deep you feel me in your throat?”

“Yes—yes, Taehyung, please—”

He pushed.

And the sound he made was animal.

“Fuuuuck, you’re tight,” he snarled, hips rolling deeper, slow and brutal. “So wet. So fucking tight—oh my God—”

You screamed again, legs trembling against his shoulders as he sank into you inch by devastating inch, stretching you wide, filling you like you were made to take him.

When he bottomed out, he paused, eyes clenched shut, jaw slack, the veins in his arms straining.

“I’m not gonna last,” he groaned. “I can’t—shit—I’m gonna ruin you, baby. I’m gonna fucking break you.”

He pulled back and slammed forward.

Again.

And again.

Each thrust harder, deeper, filthier than the last. The bedframe rocked. The headboard slammed. Your cries became incoherent, babbling messes of need and praise as Taehyung fucked you with the force of a man trying to make up for every second he spent away.

He gripped your ankles, pressing them into your chest to fold you deeper, watching your pussy swallow his cock over and over again. His breath was ragged, words falling from his mouth in a stream of desperate reverence and filth.

“Mine—this pussy is fucking mine—no one else gets to feel her—no one else gets to make you scream like this—look at me while I fuck you—let me see those eyes—yeah, that’s it—take it, baby—take all of it—”

And God, you did.

Because there was no one else. Nothing else. Just him. Just Taehyung, finally home.

He came hard.

Deep inside you. Warm and pulsing, body bowed over yours, mouth slurred against your neck with half spoken confessions and frantic curses. He stayed there for a moment, still buried in your cunt, still trembling, and overwhelmed by the heat and the stretch and the realness of you.

But then you clenched around him again. So sweet and soft and tight, and it was over.

The blood roared back to his cock. The heat flared like wildfire. And Taehyung couldn’t stop himself.

He lifted his head, hair stuck to his temple with sweat, chest heaving as he whispered hoarsely, “One more.”

You blinked up at him, dazed, wrecked, lips parted as if to protest. But then he pulled out, groaning at the sight of his cum spilling from your swollen pussy, and grabbed your hips again.

“One more,” he repeated, darker this time.

Just let him drag you off the bed, legs weak beneath you, body pliant in his hands. He kissed your shoulder, your spine, the nape of your neck as he guided you to the tall full length mirror standing beside the dresser.

And then he bent you over in front of it.

Taehyung grinned—half feral, half awed—at the reflection before him.

There you were, hair mussed, lips bitten raw, nipples peaked, thighs slick with your cum and his. Your pussy puffy and glistening in the mirror’s reflection.

He almost came again just looking at you.

“Look at you,” he murmured, pressing his body against your back. “So fucking ruined. Look what I did to you.”

You whimpered, hands braced against the mirror, and he chuckled darkly as he reached down between your legs and ran two fingers through your folds.

“Still dripping for me. You’re insatiable, aren’t you?”

Taehyung caught your throat in his other hand and gently tilted your chin toward the mirror.

“Eyes up,” he growled. “You’re gonna watch.”

He slid his fingers up to your clit, circling, teasing, just enough to make your thighs shake. “I want you to see how pretty you look with my cock in you.”

You moaned, eyes fluttering shut.

“No,” he warned, fingers tightening around your throat. “Eyes open, baby. You owe me this. I spent a year and a half jacking off in the barracks like a fucking teenager. You know how many nights I dreamed of this?”

He lined himself up and sank back in with a deep, satisfying thrust, watching in the mirror as your pussy welcomed him greedily.

“Fucking hell,” he gasped. “She’s choking me. She missed me so much, didn’t she?”

You nodded frantically, mouth parted in a broken moan.

Taehyung started slow. Long, deep thrusts, the kind that made you feel every thick inch of him. The kind that forced your eyes to stay locked on the sight of your bodies meeting over and over again. His hand stayed wrapped around your throat, thumb stroking lazily under your chin, while the other worked your clit in firm circles.

Then he leaned down and bit your shoulder. Hard.

You cried out.

“That’s it,” he groaned, licking over the mark. “You like being fucked like this, huh? Bent over, helpless, drooling while I ruin you?”

You tried to speak, but he squeezed your throat and whispered, “Shh. Just nod, jagi.”

You did.

“Good girl,” he praised, picking up his pace.

Skin slapping against skin. Your ass bouncing. His cock disappearing again and again into the wet clutch of your cunt. The mirror fogged from both your breaths.

“I had dreams,” he murmured, voice ragged against your ear. “So many dreams. Dreamed of this pussy. Dreamed of bending you over the supply closet at base. Dreamed of you sneaking into the showers to ride me quietly.”

You moaned, breath hitching.

“But it was never enough,” he snarled. “Woke up hard and aching. Had to jerk off like some desperate fucking loser. Nothing—nothing—came close to this. This pussy? These sounds?” He thrust harder. “This is mine.”

He let go of your throat and grabbed your hair, forcing you to keep watching as he fucked you into the mirror, every muscle in his body straining with effort and lust.

“You see that?” he growled. “You see how good you take it?”

“Taehyung—” you whimpered.

“Say it. Say whose pussy this is.”

“Yours. It’s yours—fuck, Tae—it’s always been yours—”

He lost it.

His rhythm faltered, becoming erratic, brutal. His teeth scraped your shoulder, your neck, his tongue soothing where he bit you raw. His balls slapped against your soaked folds, your arousal smeared across your inner thighs and down your legs.

“You’re perfect,” he moaned, thrusts slamming into you. “So fucking perfect. I’ll never get enough of this. I’ll die with my cock buried in you and still think I didn’t get enough.”

Your walls clenched.

“Oh fuck, you’re close, aren’t you?” he panted. “Gonna cum on me again? Gonna milk my cock like you’re starving for it?”

You sobbed, nails scratching down the mirror.

“Cum for me, baby,” he begged, grip tightening on your hips. “Wanna feel it. Wanna feel that greedy little pussy suck me dry—now—”

You shattered.

And so did he.

With a loud, feral groan, Taehyung buried himself to the hilt and came again, warmth flooding you as you convulsed around him. His body collapsed over yours, chest heaving, mouth open against the slope of your back as he whispered things no soldier would ever dare admit.

“I love you. Missed you so much.”

Your legs gave out the second he pulled out.

You collapsed into his arms, flushed and trembling, your breath shaky, your body spent. And Taehyung didn’t speak—not right away.

He just watched you.

Watched the way you trembled in his hold. The way your fingers curled against his chest like you couldn’t quite let go of reality yet. The marks he’d left along your skin, bites, kisses, and bruises bloomed like secrets only he’d ever be trusted to keep.

His heart ached.

You looked like a dream. A fevered vision of pleasure and surrender. But what stole his breath, what gutted him, was the trust in your exhaustion. The way you gave him everything without fear. Without doubt.

He brushed the damp hair from your face and leaned down, his lips finding your temple in a soft kiss.

“Sweet girl,” he whispered, his voice barely there. “Come back to me.”

You stirred, eyelids fluttering, eyes glazed with the last waves of pleasure.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, thumb stroking your cheek. “You don’t have to do anything. Just let me take care of you now, okay?”

You nodded weakly.

He scooped you into his arms, holding you close. He walked you to the bathroom like he was carrying something holy.

He set you down gently on the edge of the tub while he turned on the shower, testing the temperature with his hand before returning to you, kneeling at your feet.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, fingers brushing the backs of your thighs. “Even now. Especially now.”

He stood and helped you in first, stepping in after you. The water hit your skin in a soft hiss, steam blooming around you both. You leaned against the tile wall, too tired to do anything but exist, but he was already reaching for the body wash, lathering it between his hands.

“I used to imagine this,” he said softly, guiding your body under the spray. “Every night, when the lights went out. I’d close my eyes and pretend I was here. Just like this. In our shower. Holding you. Washing your back.”

His hands moved in gentle circles down your spine, over your shoulders, around your waist.

“I missed you so much it scared me sometimes,” he confessed, voice caught in his throat. “Some nights I’d wake up because I thought I heard you whispering my name. I’d look over at the empty cot next to me and wish it was you. I kept one of your hoodies in my locker. Slept with it under my head. Wore it when no one was around.”

You blinked, eyes glassy.

“I would’ve come home sooner if I could,” he murmured, brushing the soap down your arms, then lacing his fingers through yours to wash your hands. “I counted every day. Every hour. Every fucking second.”

He brought your hands to his mouth, kissed each knuckle, and then reached for your shampoo.

When he lathered your hair, he did it like you were fragile. Like if he pressed too hard, you might vanish again. His fingers massage your scalp slowly, lovingly, and when he rinses it out, he kisses your forehead through the curtain of water.

“You’re it for me,” he whispered. “I don’t care how far I ever have to go again—I’m never spending that long without you. Not ever.”

You turned toward him, leaning into his chest.

His arms wrapped around you immediately, one hand behind your head, the other splayed across your lower back. He held you there beneath the shower for long minutes, letting the water fall over both of you as he rocked you gently side to side.

“I love you,” he murmured against your temple. “You’re everything, jagi.”

You lifted your chin and looked at him, eyes wet but not from the shower.

“I love you too, Tae. So much. I’m so happy you’re home,” you whispered, voice achingly soft.

He kissed you then. Softly, and slow, like he had all the time in the world.

Because now he did.

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