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deadsetobsessions · 3 months

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Hera stood, waiting for her turn at last. The Queen of the Greek Pantheon traced the lines of neon green, its light reflecting against her true form in a soothing way. She’s no stranger to patience, to waiting. But there were little of those that had the gall to make her wait, and even smaller of that number that she would tolerate such behavior. Regardless, this was the one being she could not afford to offend and so, she waits. Her many forms, her divine self, perceived the room and compared it to her own halls of residence.

Olympus was much more intricate, carved of noble marble and inlaid with countless of priceless metals and gems and divinity. Twelve seats of power atop an engineering wonder, halls adorned with the brightest of the original flames, an hearth that was roaring at Hesta’s skillful hands.

In comparison, this throne room had been changed much since she was last here. Gone were the spikes of terror and screams of the damned. Now… it looked like the most bare throne room she’d ever bore witness to.

And yet, as she waited for the Boy King, Hera could feel the subtle thrum of impossible power. The new king did not flare his will and might like the previous tyrant, and for that, Hera approved. She has had quite enough of living with and under tyrants who cared only for themselves… and their bed achievements whilst failing spectacularly in their marital roles. Zeus was not a good life partner and Hera regretted ever saying yes to him many times in her immortal life. And yet… she loved him still.

The doors opened, and a small figure floated in, flanked by the previous King’s Knight. Perhaps that is what makes this Boy King so dangerous, Hera thought as she dipped into a bow, because he can turn the loyalest to his side.

“Your Majesty,” she greeted, in ghost speak.

“Heya, Hera!” The Boy King greeted her back, before waving the Knight away. Hera marveled, a bit, at the sheer confidence he had to dismiss his knight in her presence. Even the last king kept the knights around to ensure his power was always in display, always unchallengeable. The Boy King could destroy her with a snap of a finger and he knows it. He knows that she knows it.

“What did you need?” The Boy King asked, grin still on place as he floated to her instead of seating himself on his throne. Hera masked the bit of confusion she felt in pursuit of her goal.

“I have come here to ask of you a favor,” she began. “I am aware that… you are fond of this, the earth in which I reside in?”

Hera carefully picked her word. Everybody knows that the new King Phantom had laid claim to not only the Infinite Realms as is normal of his station, but an entire Earth as his haunt. He had the power to do so, she could finally see, now that she was standing before him. It would not do for Hera to get her strings cut because she claimed what is his.

“Sure. Why?” The Boy King tilted his head, narrowing that predator green upon her true form.

“Do you know of the Justice League, my lord?”

“Phantom’s fine,” he waved a hand. “And yeah, sure do! Why?”

Hera tilted her many forms in acknowledgement of the command. She bowed.

“My daughter, of a sort, is Diana Prince. Wonder Woman. She is… in grave danger. We can not exert our influence over a land that does not have our history. I can not interfere and aid her.”

“Oh, you want me to help her?” His tone was exasperated, and Hera spoke even more carefully in fear of offending him.

“Yes, if it pleases you. And it would be most gracious of you should Your Majesty have time to watch over her. I fear the danger will not leave her so quickly.”

There was a brief period of silence before King Phantom sighed. “And if it does not please me to do so?”

Hera looked up and locked gazes with evaluating green. “Then I am afraid I will be breaking a fair bit of cosmic law, King Phantom.”

He laughed. “Okay, yeah, I’ll check up on Wonder Woman.”

Hera blinked her many eyes, peacock feathers spreading in shock at how easily he allowed her favors. She did not even have to beg.

King Phantom turned to leave before pausing. “Hera, if you need help, just ask. Preferably without beating around the bushes next time. Also, Pandora misses you. You might want to hang around for tea later.”

Hera regarded him with the might of her divinity, which was but hardly a spec of his own kindness. The last one had not had her respect. Fear, yes. But never respect But this one…

“Yes, my King.”

“It’s just Phantom.” He shot back as he left, the Knight returning to his side once more.

Hera transformed into a more mortal form. She had not seen Pandora in a long time, the young woman had made quite an impression on her. Perhaps her old friend could be convinced in helping her punch Zeus and ruin her beloved husband’s day. Hera hummed, the green that used to flicker acidly against her divine form now only soothed. A reflection of its owner.

King Phantom is worthy of her regard.

——

Holy shit, a goddess asked him to check on the Justice League! She was super weird about it and talked in a really old way of speaking, but Danny hadn’t had anything to do for the past few days while entering the zone for his annual check up.

Danny waved away Fright Knight and dived into the portal that would take him directly to the Justice League and Diana!

He floated down from the portal, blinking at group of disheveled and injured superheroes surrounded by a group of demons. Belial?

“King Phantom.” Belial rumbled. Danny waved, not noticing the standstill his presence forced.

“Shite.” The British man cursed, drawing on his magic once more.

“King Phantom?” Diana Prince, Wonder Woman, said quizzically.

“Who?” Batman, Batman! That’s actually Batman, rumbled.

“High King of the Infinite Realms. We’re buggered if he decides to help Belial.”

“Wait, like the god of gods, that King Phantom?” Captain Marvel asked. Ancients, why are all of them electrical based? Danny hates electricity.

Danny floated closer to them, grinning in a friendly way before frowning as they tensed up.

“King Phantom. May I ask why you have graced us with your presence, my King?”

“Hey, Wonder Woman! Your mom asked me to babysit you!” He grinned, sharp and mischievous.

“What…?” The Flash asked, zipping to their side. “Her mom? Queen Hippolyta?”

“No, Hera,” Danny said, and watched Wonder Woman straighten at his words.

“The Goddess Hera.”

“Yep!” Danny rocked back on his suddenly formed legs instead of the whisp of a tail he usually kept in the Zone. He was also still floating. Danny sent a wave of ice and froze the rest of the demons in one fell swoop.

“The rest of you can take care of clean up, yes? Diana has to get some snacks, dinner, and then go to bed.” He pushed gently at Diana’s shoulders, nudging her towards the plane. She went willingly, respectful but amused.

——

Bruce, intellectually knowing that’s a king but only seeing a superhero teenager: *fills out mental adoption paperwork*

——

Hera, a goddess, terrified of misspeaking and dying as a result: he’s so strong even though he’s young omg powerful and could end my immortal existence

Danny, an unserious king: golly gee why is she speaking like a Shakespeare novel

——

Hera, thinking Danny’s gonna be dignified: pls watch over my daughter

Danny, who has a clone he sees as a daughter and therefore has no issues babysitting a grown woman: lol snacks, dinner, bedtime

Diana:… usually I’m on the other spectrum of this but it’s from a higher up so… okay?

——

Danny, terrifying gods and ancients: they’re my friends! The power of friendship!

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comfortless · 1 month

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I already sent you an ask today so hiiii

(Alright so now I hopefully have your attention, imagine: ancient settling, mercenary könig is made prisoner and enslaved and reader, a cute noble girl, buys him to ☆have fun☆. He doesn't mind at all.)

Have a good day!

anon whoever you are… every message that you have sent has been like you putting a clawing animal in my brain. all of these concepts are so good. sorry it took me a bit to get around to this one. <:•)

captured mercenary! König x noblewoman! reader

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. medieval au (so: gender role nonsense), slightly mean slightly pathetic König, very brief mentions of violence/beheading, masturbation.

“That one.”

You hear yourself speak without thought. Your voice is shy, almost. It’s unbecoming of your station to seem so meek… even as you eye the men lined up before you like cattle prepped for slaughter.

Prisoners, they were. All apart from the one you had chosen would be little more than toys for the executioner after what they’ve done: to think that such a little band of mercenaries would even be planning for a siege… ridiculous. Most of the men have already had their hair cut cleanly away from their necks in preparation for the blade that would be slicing past each vertebrae and layer of muscle to chop away their heads.

This one is saved only because he’s been stripped of his armors, and though his face is rather rugged… there’s strength beneath his skin and such a deep misery in his eyes it sets your chest ablaze with pity. He could be useful, a willing servant if you could only save him from what terrible thing haunts him.

Maybe it’s the old wounds that flare his skin with the raised flesh of scar tissue, perhaps it’s the harelip or the wild thing set between his thighs where he’s forced to kneel. It catches your eye, that last one…

The prisoner’s jaw sets when your finger does point his way, blue eyes narrow just a fraction as realization settles in the pit of his stomach. No freedom to be garnered here, no love, nothing but that blade he had intended to use against you sworn to you instead. If the giant spit at your feet then, it would be expected, welcomed almost with the way your chest roars with sympathy.

He only stares.

You pay off his captors with a few silver coins and watch as they lead him bound to your side. His arms are tied too tightly before him, muscles slack with exertion after trying to fight the ropes for what must have been hours. Whether he sees you as savior or something revolting remains unknown. He doesn’t speak, not even as a servant leads him into the back of your carriage and you step inside after him, holding up the middle of your gown as to not sully it with the dirt and old blood splattered over the stones layered for street.

When the horses begin to move you give the man a proper once over, hiding your smile beneath a handkerchief, free hand curled into the lap of your skirts. He’s not just tall and broad, but incredibly well endowed. Not just sad and downtrodden, but pissed, though the only tell remains his shaking fists. His gaze never meets yours for longer than a moment before it settles back to gaze at the passing tall grass and sheep prancing about the fields, but each time that it does… there is no denying the mixture of confusion, maybe even attraction upon his face.

Your home was something this giant had never had a taste of prior to you: a castle atop a hill, charming and stone with its high ramparts and blunt roof. You didn’t need his confirmation in words, though you do ask and get nothing in turn.

The carriage pulls you right through the gate and it is almost cute the way that this man’s eyes seem to wander as he takes it all in. There are other servants tending to the sheep and horses, the smell of fire and the chiming of blade meeting blade ringing out as men spar, there are cats to keep away pests and modest but cozy homes, a tavern, an inn all beyond the wall. A small city of your own: all for the perfect little noblewoman that you were.

The only thing that you lacked was the trained sword of a man to ensure your safety, and now you had that, too.

You explain to him his place here, the role that he would take for the price you paid as you both disembark from the wooden carriage. He would be fitted for armor donning your family’s crest come the morning, whipped into obedience should he dare raise a hand toward any one here. You even think to warn him of the executioner’s sloppy work, how he may even live with his head chopped only halfway off should you request it…. some horror you had heard one of the travelers speak of.

As the weeks pass, König does begin to settle immensely. His speech is disjointed and parsed, his mother tongue muddled with your own language in a way that is cute… terribly, horribly cute.

He’s intelligent and strong: spends much of his time out amongst the lower men aiding with the animals and teaching them the deft way he swings his blade. It is an art form in its own right, the way that he paints the air with swift strokes… For a woman to fawn over a man’s swordplay was absurd, but it was impossible not to enjoy when he taunts and jabs the way that he does.

He rarely wears that armor the blacksmith crafted for him, both a flattery and an insult. You don’t mind watching him best smaller men in solely his trousers, pressing their faces into the muck while he barks his insults to them in words they can not understand. To you, now, when he flashes the most beastly of grins in your direction and utters the words, “Verpiss dich.”

You aren’t even certain why you stand there rather than hissing out orders to have him taken away. Your stupid corset feels too tight, gown too small, and your chest aches. There's not been a thing you could do to have this man do more than simply tolerate you. He sleeps within his own room in the castle, eats his fill and then some, you talk to him and layer your words with praise. He has not once been punished for anything. Not even now.

“Come here,” you demand without thought, walking down the staircase to cross the yard with your hands balled into delicate fists at your sides.

Your giant only looks confused for a moment as he clambers off of the man he’s just wrestled to the earth and rights himself. His eyebrows raise, his nostrils flare… and then he laughs. At you like you’re the most puny of rabbits, hardly a threat. Your betters would have laughed too at just how fragile you sound, on the cusp of tears over what? Some ridiculous little crush on a captive soldier??

He eventually does as you ask, stomping over to stand before you- not kneel, he never knelt. If his height and stature were meant to intimidate… your god would have to forgive the thoughts that muddle your head then, like filthy water as you drink him in.

“Was…?”

So you explain to him as best you can just how insolent he’s being, how horribly he repays your kindness, how he would be dead on some shrouded mountain pass or have his body tossed into the river if not for you. You explain your heart out when tears come to your eyes and spring forth as your chittering continues, and you don’t even know if the moron can understand; he only stands there with the wildest grin on his face when he sees you beginning to sniffle and sob.

“Was?,” he demands again, blunt even as he takes your face into one of his large hands, turns your head to brush a tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Why are you crying?”

“You need to learn your place!” And you know you’re being a hypocrite, that a proper lady should never allow a man to touch her like this, look at her the way that König does. You should call for a servant to have him dragged through the yard and whipped… or worse, but your voice only comes in a crestfallen whisper.

He shrugs those massive shoulders, rolls his neck and huffs a breath as he gazes down at you before his hand falls to his side and he merely walks away. That’s it.

Though you had the hopes that your warning had been taken seriously, the days following seem even worse.

König abandons his duties and takes up the most horrendous idea of courtship that he can muster. If courtship is even what it could be considered. It is more like a direct taunt, a jab now that he’s been made perfectly aware just how fragile the maiden he was sold to guard is.

He takes liberties once you’ve bedded down each night, your dresses stripped away to be replaced with a plain linen gown with nothing beneath: your only protection in the form of the wooden door between you two because König is no protector.

It always starts with the sound of spitting into his palm, then a drawn out sigh that rises to a near-animalistic groan. Sometimes he speaks, other times the soft, wet sounds rise in tempo until all that comes from his mouth are sharp hisses and whines.

This night proves to be the worst.

The wood creaks under his weight as he leans back against the door, stroking himself to the thought of you behind it. He makes it apparent when he breathes your name, low and shaky as you squeeze your eyes closed and pretend to not hear the words that follow.

“Scheiße… bet you’re tight,” he hisses between his depraved whimpers, the slick sounds increasing even as he rights himself to stand proper. You can almost hear the way he salivates, can almost imagine the way his jaw must fall slack and his eyes go dazed as he pleasures himself… you squeeze your thighs shut.

“Ja… you want it too, huh…” The bastard is most assuredly imagining you, knelt before him with the most helpless, reverent gaze as you plead for him. It should make you ill, yet it only stokes a fire in your belly, one that bridges between rage and need. “Ich will dich ficken…”

Your breath comes to a halt when your hand drifts beneath your thin gown, forcing yourself to listen as he brings himself to ruin in the halls as your finger presses to the spot that demands attention most of all. A fragile, shaking circle before your breath already begins to catch.

“Bitte…”

The brute sounds so helpless now, no longer the horrid thing that ordered you to “piss off” or scowled in your direction. He doesn’t know a thing about love… about how one should yearn for a maiden, only of spilling blood and seed. It’s only in the quiet of the night when the rest of the castle sleeps does he allow himself to be even this vulnerable�� only his vulnerability seems even more terrifying.

His groans morph into pitiful sighs as he no doubt slows his motions, drawing out an impending orgasm in the hope that you will crawl to your door to let him in and fuck you rough on your bed.

“Just let me…”

Your thighs tremble as you weep between them in longing. The sooner it’s over the sooner you can close your eyes and drift back to sleep, no longer needing him the way he seems to need you now.

Your motions grow more heady, the patterns traced quicker and more deliberate as the heat rushes down further like the most vast wave of pure fire… When you tense, when your lips part to allow a low murmur of pleasure to slip from them, you’re met with laughter from the other side of the door.

“Ja… my lady… you do want it,” he hums as you draw your covers up and over your head in shame. You hadn’t been that loud, surely… but the way that he follows after, coming undone himself with a loud grunt as though it were some ridiculous competition…

“Let me fuck you next time,” he rasps, panting soft as he leans back. Depraved as he was, you were certain he was probably admiring the pearly paint he left along the stones. “That is my place, hm?”

#könig x reader #konig x reader

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luminnara · 1 month

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Unheavenly Creatures Part Two | Feyd-Rautha x reader (NSFW)

PART ONE

Summary: in the wake of an arena victory on his name day, Feyd rautha blows off some steam with his darlings.

MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Read this fic on AO3 under the same account name, luminnara!

Warnings: group sex/foursome, exhibitionism, voyeurism, mentions of cannibalism, canon typical violence, it’s Feyd-Rautha it’s not all sunshine and rainbows, bloodplay, biting, marking, possessiveness, the whole shebang

Word count: 4.6k

Note: I have been desperately trying to find any info I can on the harpies, and I have not managed much 🥲 so pls enjoy my headcanons and made up names ily bye

Tags: @austinswhitewolf @aeilani @maneater17 @serrendiipty @belovedbastardremus @the-dark-dreamer25

It was a day of celebration, and the entire palace—no, city—was abuzz. Inside, a feast was nearly finished, a kitchen full of cooks working day and night for a week to prepare the na-Baron’s favorite dishes. Outside, beneath a black sun, the citizens of Giedi Prime sat cheering in the arena, drinking in the sight of their beloved Feyd-Rautha as he gutted the last of the Atreides warriors. Even as you made your way back to the palace, the roar of the crowd was deafening, their penchant for bloodshed seemingly increased tenfold on this special day.

“Come,” one of the women next to you said, her voice a high, breathy hiss.

“Feyd will want us,” the other smiled, her black teeth contrasting dramatically against her near-white skin.

Feyd-Rautha’s darlings had been quick to accept you as one of them. You suspected it was partly because they didn’t dare question him, though you had seen occasional instances of what could be considered mild defiance from them in your short time on Giedi Prime. They, and you, were permitted to act out on occasion, though none of you were foolish enough to do so in a way that would cast an ill light on your beloved na-Baron. And he was your beloved—with each passing day, you grew more and more comfortable with the Harkonnen heir, and more and more certain that he adored you.

“We will feast on Atreides tonight,” Issa sighed.

“Feyd will reward us,” Yarina said, looking down at you with a grin.

You returned it.

As the three of you walked down the hall, moving as a single, predatory unit, Harkonnen and guests alike were quick to move out of the way. You heard the whispers, caught the curious, sometimes shocked stares as you passed. Feyd’s darlings were rarely seen wandering, and as such, even members of the Harkonnen nobility found themselves stunned by the sighting.

You kept pace with the others as you walked, mindful of the carefully curated air they liked to keep about them. They were both exquisite examples of Harkonnen beauty, equally as dangerous as they were lovely, and though you still did not know much about who they had been before Feyd chose them as concubines, you enjoyed their company. It was a good thing, too; now, you spent nearly every moment with them, and when you weren’t with them, it was because you were alone with Feyd-Rautha.

Some nights, he called you to his bed, having his way with you, whispering things in your ear that he would never say during the daylight hours. Things he reserved only for you. At night, Feyd-Rautha could be almost kind, and you came to suspect that he loved his darlings, in his own way; otherwise, why would you all be allowed to touch him, to pleasure him, to feast with him?

You had never expected that you might become a concubine for the heir of one of the Houses. As a child, you had often dreamt of becoming a princess and being swept away through the stars to wed your handsome prince. But you were no noble; your parents bore no titles, and the closest you were ever meant to come to greatness was when you served your former masters. Was it luck that had brought you where you were today, freely roaming the Harkonnen palace while you awaited your beloved Feyd-Rautha? Or had fate played a trick on you, giving you close to what you had always wanted while still refusing you any title or noble birth? Perhaps it was better this way; perhaps you would enjoy your life as a concubine far more than you would if you had been a lady of the court.

Perhaps the universe had known you would one day commit violent acts, and planned a fitting role for you. If you hadn’t killed your father all those years ago, would you even be on Giedi Prime now? Would Feyd-Rautha had cared at all about the handmaiden who had wandered too far? Perhaps he would have killed you, seeing you as expendable. He would have slit your throat, and his uncle the Baron would have pretended he cared enough to apologize to the Lord and Lady you had served. They would have gotten someone new, and you would have been easily and quickly disposed of.

Perhaps Feyd would have fed you to his darlings.

How strange the wheel of fate was.

“What are you thinking about?” Issa asked you, tilting her head as she looked at you curiously. Her voice was always breathy and alien, a dreamlike quality within it. It matched her appearance and yet it didn’t, making her seem even less human than her black teeth and eyes did.

“Yes, you seem so far away,” Yarina agreed, her accent more akin to the na-Baron’s than Issa’s. You had been on Giedi Prime long enough now to recognize differences in accent and dialect, and had begun trying your best to imitate Feyd’s in an attempt to better fit in. You had no idea if it was working or not, but no one had commented on it yet, which you took to be a good sign.

“My House allied with House Harkonnen,” you said as the three of you neared Feyd-Rautha’s chambers.

“Your former House,” Issa corrected, raising a hand to stroke your cheek. “You are Harkonnen now.”

“I do not look Harkonnen.”

“You do.” Yarina pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

This was normal with them, you had come to learn; they touched casually and constantly, always in contact with each other and now you by default.

“There is no doubt my former Mistress, or at least her husband, is visiting for the celebration.” You said.

“Perhaps our lovely Feyd-Rautha will kill them for you,” Yarina offered.

“Perhaps our lovely Feyd-Rautha will allow us to kill them,” Issa grinned.

You did not know if you wanted that to happen.

You followed them through the door and into Feyd’s living quarters, settling on the large bed while you waited for him. You could imagine him stalking through the halls, bright red Atreides blood painting his chest and face as he hurried back to you. He would kill or maim anyone who stood in his way or tried to slow him down. He was always wild after a fight in the arena, and he always came to you hot and hard and ravenous.

You hoped today would be no exception.

“He must hurry,” Issa pouted as she lounged next to you. “I’m growing hungry.”

“He will come,” Yarina sighed. “He would never let us starve.”

You weren’t sure if they were talking about sex, or food, or both, but you always marveled at the way they spoke of Feyd. They knew how dangerous and callous he could be, but to the harpies, that was normal. If he was a lion, then they were the lionesses; just as cunning, just as regal, just as hungry. Whenever you walked alongside them, you learned more of how to be like them. You learned how to keep your head held high in a room of Harkonnen men, confident that none but Feyd-Rautha would dare to touch you lest they lose a limb or their life. You learned how to stomach the violence that the na-Baron enacted so frequently, and even how to anticipate it eagerly. You had changed in your time on Giedi Prime, and you were becoming more and more like your fellow concubines by the minute.

When you finally heard heavy, determined footfalls outside, you perked up. The door opened not a moment later, revealing a bloodied Feyd-Rautha, his chest heaving and his gaze dark as he crossed the room, eyes glued to you. There was no time to be scared before he was upon you, cupping your face in both hands as he kissed you hungrily, greedily, sharply biting at your lip. You gasped involuntarily and he was quick to force his tongue past your teeth, exploring your mouth while a hand moved to squeeze at your breast.

You felt a soft hand press against the back of your neck as one of the other harpies held you, her body supporting you as Feyd-Rautha pushed you down. The other moved onto her knees, undressing him quickly before leaning in to lick blood off the side of his face.

He moved to catch her lips in his and you gasped for air, heart racing as hands pulled at your dress. Craning your neck, you saw that Issa was behind you, her hands now massaging your breasts as she leaned over you.

Feyd easily threw Yarina down next to you, the bed rocking slightly. He paused, panting as he stood and looked down at his three darlings, all still clothed while he was bare. His full lips curled into a smirk, eyes raking over your bodies as he crawled over you once more.

“This must go,” he said simply, taking a fistful of your dress and pulling.

One of the others sucked in an excited breath, quickly taking the torn scraps and tossing them to the floor.

Feyd-Rautha dove for your throat, leaving open-mouthed kisses against the soft flesh as his strong arms caged you in. Someone’s hand slipped between your thighs and you opened your legs obediently, feeling slender fingers stroking you as you were prepared to take the na-Baron.

It wasn’t the first time you had all been together like this. After you had settled in and grown more comfortable with the others, Feyd had permitted them to watch as he bedded you. They had both been fascinated by the small amount of body hair Feyd chose to let you keep, and you had been fascinated by the way no one, not even Feyd-Rautha, had touched you intimately without permission, or at least without being expressly told not to.

This wasn’t the first time you had felt those fingers inside you. When the three of you were alone, the others taught you how to please Feyd-Rautha. They had perfected it to a science, and it reminded you of some of the rumored Bene Gesserit teachings you had heard of; secretive, calculated, confident. Always in control, even when it seemed that they were not. You had been surprised to learn that the na-Baron was vulnerable in front of his concubines, shocked, even, by what you had seen when he took them to bed; for he was not always demanding and petulant, but also subservient. The others knew how to give him what he truly wanted and needed, and that was sometimes the permission to be a different man while behind closed doors.

Today, though, that was not what he wanted nor needed. Today was a day for chaos, for Bacchanalia. Today, Feyd-Rautha’s feral energy was driving him into a frenzy, teeth sinking into whatever he could find as he marked you with his bites over and over.

“Yes,” you gasped as fingers pushed deeper into you. “Oh, yes…”

Feyd tore himself away from your neck to devour another’s lips, his hips grinding against yours as a pair of hands wrapped themselves around his cock and began stroking. The bed was a tangle of limbs and the air was heavy with breathy moans, no one quite sure of where anyone ended and anyone else began.

When you felt the head of his cock prodding at your entrance, you moaned, and it came out almost choked. There, surrounded by so many bodies, you felt hot and slick all over, already sweating before the real work had even begun. Your voice was thick in your throat as you begged for him, pleading with him to please fuck you, please use you…and he obliged, because you were saying exactly the right things to make him drunk with lust.

“Feyd,” you whispered, hands searching for him.

“M’darling,” he groaned as he pressed his face into Issa’s neck, the sound guttural and primal.

“Please,” you whimpered as Yarina ran her hands over your front. Your thighs tensed in an attempt to soothe the needy ache between them, but Feyd-Rautha was in the way, like a solid tower of muscle and flesh that refused to give. “Feyd please!”

He was faring no better than you. His cock ached and wept as it slid over your lips, now wet with your own arousal and throbbing with need as blood pooled in your groin. With each teasing thrust of his hips you grew more desperate, breaths coming in whiny pants as you huffed and begged, chest heaving as your back arched up off of the bed.

As Feyd-Rautha allowed himself to be guided into you, he groaned that deep, heady groan, the one that always had you melting and turning to putty in his hands. You gasped at the feeling of his cock sinking deeper and deeper, slowly, until his skin brushed yours and you swore you could feel him in your womb.

When his hips rocked back you let out a strangled moan, and when he pushed into you once more you made a noise that would be considered filthy back on your home planet. Feyd-Rautha had a tendency to bring those noises out of you, and fill your head with thoughts that some would be disgusted by. As he fucked into you with ever-increasing brutality, though, he reminded you why you were so happy living with him now. Looking up into his dark eyes that watched you while his lips brushed over another woman’s shoulder as she held him, you felt nothing but lust and glee and adoration. Sharing him was easy when you were part of a set like this, and when you were all together as one moving, breathing creature.

His gaze was intense. You knew he loved watching you as he pleasured himself with you. Sex was like war for him, each bedding a conquest, each fuck a battle. You were never his enemy, though; you were his prey.

And you enjoyed being caught.

“Feyd,” the harpy behind you called in her hissing voice.

He tore his lips from Yarina’s flesh, leaning over you as his hips continued thrusting, meeting Issa above you. He attacked her hungrily, hands gripping her roughly as his speed movements grew more erratic. You knew he was becoming more and more frenzied by the sighs and moans, his kisses turning to bites. You watched, enraptured, as he sank his teeth into her shoulder, a bead of dark blood running down her breasts and dripping onto your cheek.

Yarina made an excited sound and dove around Feyd-Rautha, intent on licking it up. Before she could, he released Issa, shoving her aside as he snarled at Yarina, hands coming down on other side of your head as he caged you in once more.

She hissed at him, jealous and hungry, moving instead to suck at the wound the blood had oozed from. The na-Baron huffed a ragged laugh, baring his black and bloody teeth as he grinned at them, then down at you.

“You will have your turn,” he said to them while looking at you. “You will never go hungry.”

You knew he was speaking of both literal and sexual appetites, and that he meant it; there was plenty of blood and plenty of him to go around, and he was incredibly good at balancing his attentions between all three of you. Though his concubines were meant to serve him, at times it seemed as though that was achieved by him serving you—ensuring that all of you were happy, proving that you were well cared for in all ways. When his darlings were happy, Feyd-Rautha was happy. You could almost call it love.

His love was harsh, though; as he gazed down at you, you felt as if you were the only one in the universe, drawn in to those dark eyes, and you obediently turned your head and bared your throat to him. He relished the sight, and the willingness, and the vulnerability. He could kill you so easily like this, with his cock buried inside you and his teeth in your flesh. A part of him longed to spill your blood everywhere; you knew because he had said so before.

But he wouldn’t kill you.

You were his.

And he was shockingly gentle with his things, reverent when it came to their care. His knives, lovingly and proudly displayed on the wall, another hidden in the bed in case of emergency, were always sharpened. His favorites were sharpened by him, because he trusted no one else with them, much they same as how he trusted no one else with you.

As his teeth sank into you, he moaned, relishing the feeling of having you there in his jaws. He could crush you if he really tried, if not with his teeth then with his hands. But as he held you close and swept his tongue over the sore mark he had left, you knew he never would. You were safe with him, as odd as that felt.

“You are so beautiful like this,” he breathed as you gazed up at him.

“You are as well,” you replied, smiling at the admission.

He kissed you, deeply and seriously, not a hint of those teeth. It was pure, in a way, just like his care for you was; not pure in the innocent sense, nor the good sense, but pure in that it was simple and primal. It wasn’t evil. It wasn’t overtly just. It simply was.

Then, he nipped at your lower lip, sharply enough to draw blood, and he sucked at it greedily. You felt a tingle in your core, something uncoiling within you. When you brought your legs up and hooked your heels around him, he pushed into you even further, as if he wanted to force himself inside your very skin. When he dropped his head next to yours, you knew he was close—and when he bit into you again, you shrieked, and you knew you were close as well.

“Fuck,” he growled against you. “Move.”

You immediately unlatched your ankles and he pulled out, painting your front in his seed. Marking you as his once more.

He tilted his head as he looked at you. You writhed beneath him, hips bucking as you searched for him, so close to your own end and yet now feeling devoid and empty.

“Shh, pet,” he cooed, reaching between your legs. “I will care for you.”

You were nearly in tears as you watched him, far beyond the ability to speak coherently as he toyed with your swollen clit. His mouth moved to your inner thigh and he bit, drawing blood, leaving a trail of marks. The sounds that left your throat were desperate and wanton, echoing off the high ceiling of his chambers as Feyd-Rautha made quick work of you. Your pleasure was agony and beauty, and as he dragged you down over the edge, your voice felt hoarse from your cries and moans.

Anyone passing by in the corridor would hear.

You did not care.

You would never be ashamed of the sounds you made when Feyd-Rautha pleasured you, and as he bent down to swipe his tongue over you and lap at your wetness, you felt a smug sense of achievement. There was the na-Baron, on his knees, tending to his low-birth, off-planet concubine.

He pressed a kiss to the deepest bite mark. “Exquisite.”

Then, you were gently moved aside, and he began anew with one of the others. Though he was selfish, your pleasure was his, and he worked through the three of you however he pleased, always ensuring you were sated. You watched in fascination as he made them writhe, and when he allowed his own skin to be broken, you sucked at the wound, tasting the strange Harkonnen blood on your tongue and appreciating the fact that you were probably the only person from your home planet to have ever been given the chance.

How strange, the things you appreciated now.

-0-

“Something troubles you tonight,” a rough voice commented.

You turned your head to look at its owner. “Why do you say that?”

“You aren’t in bed with the others.” Feyd-Rautha approached you, coming to stand behind you.

He was right; you had initially found sleep to come easily after a long day of celebrations and feasting, your aching body in desperate need of rest. But after some time you had awoken, and it was impossible to close your eyes again. So you had dressed yourself in a black robe and slipped away, escaping to the balcony window down the corridor.

“My apologies,” you mumbled, looking down at the railing.

His chest brushed your back as his hands gripped your elbows. “You shouldn’t be out alone.”

“I know, but—“

“I was worried.”

His admission made you pause. When you glanced up at him, you saw that he was serious, jaw tense as he looked down at you.

“You were?” You asked, staring at him with wide, black eyes.

“I was.” His voice was stern. “It is not safe.”

“I’ve wandered these halls before,” you said, a hint of amusement in your tone. “Even before I joined you.”

“You were a guest.” He said. “I was your greatest threat then.”

“I wasn’t afraid of you.” You jutted your chin up towards him.

“I know,” he grinned. “When you told how best to spill your guts so as not to ruin the meat, I knew.” Then, he grew serious once more. “I also knew I must have you, and no one else would touch you.”

“No one here would dare.” You said haughtily. “They know better than to play us.”

“That is not what I worry about, my darling.” Feyd-Rautha placed his hands on the railing in front of you, leaning his chin on the top of your head as he looked out over Giedi Prime. “I am the heir to the Harkonnen throne.”

“You’re an important man,” you furrowed your brow. “What of it? Does that not guarantee me protection?”

“You are a target.”

“…na-Baron, I am a concubine, not a bride.” You scoffed. “There would be no reason for any political adversary to—“

“Feyd.” He growled.

“Wh-what?”

“Call. Me. Feyd.”

You gulped. “I-I’m sorry, Feyd.”

“Don’t…” he heaved a sigh, steadying himself. “Don’t apologize, darling.”

He was silent for a moment, and you weren’t sure whether to feel safe or uncomfortable.

“All of Giedi Prime knows how important my darlings are.” He continued. “You are safe when you are with me. But I cannot guarantee that safety when you are alone.”

Feyd-Rautha turned his head, leaning his cheek against you. It was an oddly intimate movement; in fact, the entire situation felt more akin to one that should take place with husband and wife, not murderous na-Baron and concubine.

“I am only a concubine,” you said again, voice small.

He barked a cruel laugh. “Is that what you tell yourself?”

You winced at the harsh sound. “It is the truth.”

“My darlings,” he began, his voice low, anger simmering just below its surface, “are much more to me than simple concubines.” He turned you in his arms, forcing you to lean back against the railing. “Surely you know this…or do you turn your nose up at me?”

You recognized the glint of anger in his eyes and felt panic rising. He couldn’t really think you hated him, could he? “Feyd, no…”

He gritted his teeth as he glared down at you. “The little off-world pet, too good for the likes of the barbarian prince…I know what the Great Houses say about me.”

His hands drifted down to grab at the thin fabric of your robe, grabbing it in bunches as he hiked it up. He paused for a moment and you realized he was listening, for your quickening breaths and heartbeat, and you watched as something in his eyes shifted.

“They call me psychotic.” He nosed at one of the bite marks on your neck. “What do you think, darling? Are they correct?”

“Y-yes, Feyd.” You stammered, both frightened and excited by the game you now realized he was playing.

He made a thoughtful noise as a hand slipped past your robe, fingers finding your swollen, used folds and plunging inside. “What else?”

“Th-they say you are bloodthirsty,” your breath hitched as his thumb brushed your clitoris.

“Am I?”

“Yes, Feyd,” you gasped at the addition of another finger.

A sick smile twisted itself onto his face. “What do they say about me on your home planet, darlin?”

“That you are v-violent,” you steadied yourself with a hand on his bare chest as your thighs trembled. “That you kill without second thought. That you are cruel and crave violence with every breath.”

Some of it you had made up; truly, you had never heard anyone on your planet speak in great length about the na-Baron of Giedi Prime. In fact, most people on most planets probably didn’t even know who he was. But for the sake of his ego, and for the hand between your thighs to continue its work, you exaggerated, and it worked. Despite a long day of fighting and fucking and enjoying spice, Feyd-Rautha was awake, attentive, and ravenous.

“And what does my darling think?” He asked, rubbing your clit as he twisted his fingers inside you.

“I-I think—!” You gasped, eyes wide at the sensation, wetness pooling around his hand, “Feyd—!”

“Answer me,” he purred, amused.

“I think that you are all that and more!” You blurted, tears pricking the edges of your modified eyes.

“Good pet,” he caught your lips in a kiss and focused his efforts on your clitoris, allowing and encouraging you to reach your peak on his hand.

And you did, of course you did. You always finished with Feyd, oftentimes before him. As your orgasm overtook you, he breathed you in, devouring you in his adoration.

As you came down, he leaned back, pulling his hand away and watching your flushed face as he licked the taste of you off of his fingers.

“Delicious,” he rumbled, looking at you with a hunger in his eyes.

Then, he placed his hands on your shaky hips and turned you, and before you had even caught your breath, his cock was inside you for the second time that day. He squeezed your breast as he fucked you, pressing kisses along your spine that seemed far too gentle for the na-Baron, and again, you marveled at the way he treated his darlings.

“Do you see now?” He panted in your ear. “Do you see your importance? Only my darlings do this to me.”

Only his darlings made him so feral and so tame at the same time, because while he bit and tore and raged with you, he refused to truly break his favorite things.

“And you take me so well,” he growled, spending himself inside of you with a grunt.

Feyd leaned against you, pressing a kiss to your temple. You felt comfortable there, within the safety of his body. Nothing could harm you when you were with him; you were one of his darlings, and now, you were certain that he adored you.

“Come,” he said, pulling himself out of you and straightening up.

“Bed?” You asked as he easily swept you into his arms, carrying you back to his chambers.

“A bath,” he decided. “Then bed, with the others.”

And you smiled as he held you, so secure against his chest. Feyd-Rautha was everything you had said and more—he was a lover, as well, in his own way.

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha #dune #dune x reader #unheavenly creatures

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darksilvania · 10 months

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After finishing the Pokemon Type Challege I decided to add a third half lion pokemon to my Duo and make them a Trio.

CRYOSFINX [Cryo-Criosphinx] -Ice -The Frozen Horns Pokemon -Ability: Snow Cloack - Refrigerate(HA) -Dex: “It inhabits the very top of Kroel mountains where snow never melts. Its horns and wings are always frozen at sub zero temperatures, getting touched by them can cause instantaneous frostbite..“ -Megahorn -Ice Fang -Avalanche -Noble Roar

MANTIQUORTZ [Manticore-Quartz] -Rock -The Rocky Stinger Pokemon -Ability: Strong Jaw - Rock Head(HA) -Dex: “It inhabits the lower rocky sides of the mountains, living inside the caves and tunnels. A powerful blow from is stinger can incapacitate any prey, but even at a distance it can shoot sharp shards from the tip, as strong and fast as a bullet.“ -Head Smash -Crunch -Rock Blast -Stealth Rock

GAJASILICA [Gajasimha-Silicate] -Ground -The Sandy Tusk Pokemon -Ability: Sand Rush - Sand Force(HA) -Dex: “It inhabits the sandy dunes at the base of the mountain. It's body is always covered in sand, to the point where one cant tell where the sand ends and the pokemon begins. It has a gentle nature, but can become really violent when provoked. “ -Earth Power -Scorching Sands -Mud Bomb -Sandstorm

This three pokemon are mortal enemies of each other, they keep themselves to their territories to avoid any conflict, but if they cross paths they will figh until only one remains standing.

While CRYOSFINX is based on the egyptian Criosphinx and MANTIQUORTZ is based on the persian Manticore, GJASILICA is based on the indian Gajasimha, a creature with the body of a lion and the head of an elephant

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maudeeloise · 9 months

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Do you think you could do a Jacaerys x reader where they are childhood enemies but get betrothed and when things are going well in their marriage Jace misinterprets a moment with reader and someone else and accuses the reader to be pregnant with a bastard until it’s born looking exactly like him and he must reconcile and win reader back.

Sworn Enemies || j.v

Pairing : Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

Warning : none

You weren’t surprised. When your mother mentioned it and your sister ran into your room to check on you a few moments after your talked with your mother.

You were a noble and you had known since the very first that you would be bethrothed with another noble. Unfortunately, your family was being too close to the Targaryens that the first person they chose for you to marry was the last person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.

The marriage was rocky and was filled with arguments — even about the smallest things. Your marriage was built by loath instead of love. You couldn’t stand his arrogance and he couldn’t stand your stubborness. Your hatred towards each other was so deep in your blood that it became the reason you ended up with his child.

Just like any other night, there you stood in different sides of your shared chambers. The bed seperating you as you had argued since the past hour.

“Don’t you dare lie to me!” Jace’s voice roared, filling the room with his anger.

“How dare you accuse me of something I didn’t do?!” You matched his tone, firm and loud.

“I am not accusing you of anything!” His jaw clenched slightly. “That baby is a bastard and you know I’m right.”

You bit back your tongue once you processed his words. He called your son a bastard. He called his own son a bastard.

“You are insane.” You spat through gritted teeth. “You have no proof on what you believe in, however I do and you’re too terrified that I might be right.”

“Nonsense!” He shook his head. “I’m not terrified of anything because I know I’m right.”

“Then take a look at your own son!” You pointed at the crib which was placed beside your side of the bed. “You have refused to even take a peak of him since he was born. Do you despise him that much?”

“He is not my son!” His voice boomed through the room.

A sudden cry broke from the baby, stealing both your attentions. You rushed towards the crib and took the baby gently before rocking him in your arms. Whispers of sweet nothings followed by a humming of the first song which came to your mind, eventually died down the cries. It only took a while before the baby went back to his slumber.

Disgust written on Jace’s face as he watched the two of you. “We need to get rid of him as soon as possible.”

Your face fell in surprise at his suggestion. There was a long moment of a pause before you moved to place the baby back on his crib. A long sigh left your lips in disbelief.

You were tired of convincing him. If you had to be honest, it hurt you every time. You wouldn’t care if he was mocking you nor he was treating you as if you had betrayed his family, but it was his son he was hating. His own flesh and blood he planned to banish.

“Are you really that insisting?” Your voice broke. Your heart aching. But you forced yourself to keep a fierce look on your face and your posture straight.

Jace let out a scoff. “You were the one who betrayed this marriage.”

“I would never!” Your voice heightened, but it wasn’t anger. You were exhausted. “I may despise you with every inch of my body, but I would never do such. I love my family and I would do anything to keep our names clean, so don’t you ever start a rumor just because you got tired of me.”

“Got tired of you?” Jace taunted. “I had wished for your death since forever, but I have never started such rumours.”

“Then whoever did!” Your chest moved up and down. Your eyes were filled with desperation, silently pleading for him to believe you. “You may hate me for the rest of your life, but that is your son, Jacaerys! Just for this once, I am asking you to second your beliefs.”

“He is not my son!”

“Take a look for yourself!”

That was the last thing you said before you exit the room. It was starting to become too much for you. Your chest hurt from holding back tears. You didn’t want to seem weak in front of him, or else he would’ve thought he won the argument.

Once you found yourself in the middle of the empty hallway, you broke down. A hand covering your mouth to silent the cries as you fell down to your knees.

On the other side of the door, stood a hesitant Jacaerys. If he had to be honest, a part of him wanted to believe you, but he had to big of an ego and a habit of always wanting to be better than you, so he was persistance of his opinion.

His eyes stared at the crib for a long minute. He was arguing with his mind whether he should just leave the room or do as you ask. His hands were fisting the material of his coat.

“Fuck this.” He said before walking up towards the crib.

His angry expression was soon replaced by a soft one once his eyes caught a glimpse of the baby. His mouth fell open slightly. The baby was a carbon copy of him — brunette hair, brown eyes, his nose, his lips. Shame masked his face the longer he looked at the baby.

He stumbled back in surprise. His hands were holding at the crib to steady himself. Guilt rushed through him like a wave of tsunami. You weren’t lying. The baby was his heir, his firstborn, his own flesh and blood.

#jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon imagine #jacaerys x you #jacaerys fic #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys imagine #jacaerys x oc #jacaerys velaryon x you #hotd x y/n #hotd jacaerys #hotd #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic

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west1rosi · 11 months

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HOUSE LANNISTER DURING THE MAIN ICE AND FIRE:

Their gold mines have made the Lannisters the wealthiest of the great houses. the ladies of the house are often golden haired with bright or big eyes. the men are usually seated as the head at casterly rock and are known for being cunning and scheming. jaime lannister is commander of the kingsguard but eventually in life he would retire from the title to become lord of casterly rock after the war with the others. myrcella baratheon, cersei's daughter, shares her looks and smart wits, the dornish people adore her, even if her marriage has yet not been consumated or done. alongside myrcella and her sworn shield, she travelled to dorne with two ladies: rosamund lannister, a cousin who is mean to be her decoy in case an assasination attempt is made and cerenna lannister, a cousin who reports back to her distant aunt cersei anything that happens in dorne. cerenna is looking for a high profiled marriage from a dornish house.

mutuals can like, reblog and comment!

#�� . ✷ ❛ noble houses❜ 〉hear me roar .#⸻ . ✷ ❛ artworks ❜ 〉mutuals can interact .

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raisinchallah · 1 year

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since i started reading moby dick ive started mentally narrating so many random daily tasks in that style like feeding my cat god hath not wrought a nobler creature than thee dear cat no finer beast in all of the creatures of the land and wise is the cat to ally itself so totally with man for from this proud partnership a creature possessing only the small fur bearing land dwelling body and endowed only with dainty grasping paws can feast upon the beasts of the sea salmon which grows in length far greater than this small noble creature cat and dwells in great rivers and oceans too deep for such a small beast to ford though cat resembles in nature a fish of the land be not mistaken dear reader the cat is a land creature all the same for soft small paws can paddle not the deep currents and churning deeps the great temple where tuna dwells where even man must fight against the roaring seas and be dragged a hundred leagues by such creatures to even chance catching one oh no feline could risk such a venture thats why they wisely warm themselves by the hearth and leave such toil for the creature known as man

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peachesofteal · 6 months

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Medieval/and or fantasy ghoap x reader AU? Ghost and Soap are Knights under the 141 legion and happen to walk into a town where everyone is accusing reader of being some demon/ practicing witchcraft (she has anxiety).

🏰🗡️🔮 okay, okay. With a few changes. A lot of changes, sorry! 18+ MDNI / rescue, comfort, etc no smut

“You cannot p-p-possibly-“ the magistrate stutters, hands out in front of his body as if he even has a sliver of a chance of fending them off.

Simon stalks forward, bloodied sword gleaming in the candle light, silver stained with ruby ichor, the remnants of the hired protection outside, all slain, all dying.

The hired protection that he paid for, with the coin he made off of you.

“Ye cannae possibly believe,” Johnny snarls, steps vibrating with rage. “That ye’ll be talkin’ yer way out o’ this one.”

“She’s possessed, she-“

“Do not bother to lie. You do not believe it. We know you’ve been using her.” Simon barks. “We’ve heard the tales. The tongues wag far and wide over the rumors about your seer.”

“She needs healing, and my healers are uniquely qualified, experienced with witchcraft.” The magistrate whines, still stepping backwards on his heels, eyes wide, sweat dripping from his temple.

“Ye stole her!” Johnny roars, shouldering past Simon. “Ye waited until we were called away and then ye broke into our home and took her.” The magistrate shakes his head.

“She needs-“

“She needs nothing from you. Except to be free.” Simon cracks his neck. “And for you to be dead.”

“No. No, you can’t. I’m a- a noble. You cannot just-“

“Aye. We can.”

“Tell us where she is, and perhaps, we’ll let you live.” Simon counters, and the magistrate relaxes, body going languid like a fool.

“She’s in the room. At the end of the hall.” He grabs at a key around his neck, and Johnny rips it away, worn leather string breaking free without much effort.

“Johnny.” It’s a hum, an order, and he grins with his answer, whistling his way down the hall.

The last thing the magistrate sees is the swing of Simon’s sword, cleaving through the air, headed straight for his neck.

“Darling?” The room is dark. It smells, reeks of blood and bile, and his stomach turns. This is where he’s been hiding you? After all the coin that heathen made from your visions, this is the best he could give you? “Darling? Are ye in here?” There’s nothing, no response, no whisper of your sweet voice. Just the sound of shaky breathing, whimpering. “It’s me. It’s Johnny.”

He can just barely see the outline of your shoulder under the window, and he crouches, reaching towards your knee, brushing his fingertips over your skin.

“N-no.” You whisper, and he frowns.

“It’s Johnny. Simon’s here too. We’re here now, darling, ye’re safe.” The doors swings, banging into the stone wall, you startle, flinching against the window.

“Johnny?” Simon murmurs, coming to stand behind him, hand on his shoulder.

“Ah dinnae- she-“

“Those who walk in the woods will see their feet stained with blood.” You croak, shivering.

“Wot?” Simon questions, but you don’t respond.

They can just barely make out the sight of your dress, more of a sack, torn and tattered, encrusted with dirt and blood and goddess knows what else.

“We need tae get her out o’ here.” Johnny’s voice stays low, cautious. Worried.

“Darling, can you hear me?” Simon tries, but you still say nothing, little noises coming from your mouth every other moment.

He rocks forward to take you into his arms, hoping the familiarity will calm you, bring you back to yourself.

But you let out a bloodcurdling scream instead, the terror in your voice so rich, so real, he nearly loses his grip on your struggling body.

You fight them. Clawing and ripping and tearing, hands wild, tugging at Johnny’s hair, Simon’s clothes, until they’ve got your arms pinned down, Johnny cooing to you softly.

“It’s alright, it’s alright. Breathe for me, darling. Jus’ breathe.” You’re still struggling, still trying wrench yourself free, and when you thrash, you face catches the moonlight.

That’s when they see it.

Johnny chokes on his gasp, and Simon cups your chin, tilting your eyes back towards the light, back towards the window to reveal the horrifying truth.

Your eyes are completely white. Pupils, irises, blood vessels, all fogged out, covered with creamy, milky white that looks more like the moon than your beautiful eyes that they’ve known, loved, so dearly.

“No.” Johnny whispers. You whimper, head swinging, eyebrows creased, chest heaving.

Their worst fears, realized. They always knew this was a possibility but… for it to happen when you were being held captive. When they couldn’t be here. When they weren’t able to help you, comfort you.

The terror you must have felt.

“She only sees with the Sight now.” Simon says. “It’s why she doesn’t recognize us. She’s lost herself to it, to the Goddess.”

You blink rapidly, like you’re hearing them, head cocking slightly toward their voices, and Simon strokes a thumb down your cheek.

“Shhh.” Johnny hums, and you settle, a bit dejected, but quieting in their arms as they hold you. “Just breathe. Good girl, nice an’ slow for us.” After you get two lungfuls, they shift, Simon’s arms curling around your body and holding you close as Johnny opens the door.

“Let’s go home, darling.”

#I could write this for real but I don’t have the bandwidth so #have this instead #peaches asks #peaches writes #ghoap x reader #soap x reader x ghost #female reader

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plzfeedmebread · 1 year

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Where'd You Learn That? Tsu'tey x Female! Human Reader

word count: 2.9k

Pairing: Tsu'tey x Female! Human! Reader Tags/Warnings: R18 - minors DNI, smut, p eating, tongue action, established relationship, fluff, romance, alcohol consumption, slightly inebriated reader, wingman Jake

Author's Notes: For this prompt! Dedicated to @mechformers, thank you for my first Tsu'tey fic inspiration! Apologies for any grammatical errors, I hope you enjoy!

The scent of spiced meat and sugared fruit tickles your nose. You are thankful for the implants in your nasal cavity and lungs, letting you freely enjoy the Pandoran air and all it’s wonderful smells.

Spirits are high as the clan celebrates well into the night. A bonfire roars at its centre; Humans and Na’vi gather all around in song and dance. Drinks flow freely among the crowd.

You take an experimental sniff of your cups contents. The smell reminds you of elderberries, and cinnamon, with an undertone of something sugary. Throwing caution to the wind, you take sizeable sip.

It does not taste as it smells; but is delicious all the same.

One cup turns to two.

Another.

Then another.

You close your eyes.

A blanket of warmth wraps around you as your body moves to the rhythmic beat of drums. A gentle buzz tickles the back of your mind.

You make lazy patterns with your arms, swinging your hips side to side as you let the music guide your movements.

The hairs at the nape of your neck stand on end.

Suddenly, you get the distinct feeling that you are being watched.

You open your eyes, searching the crowd for your would-be observer.

A golden gaze snaps your head in place, stilling your movements. The world around you fades to the back of your mind. Your focus attuned to him alone.

The Olo'eyktan, noble warrior and esteemed Clan Leader, is devouring you with his intense stare. Tsu’tey tilts his head to the side, leaning back in his seat as he openly ogles you.

There is movement in your peripheral. Stealing a glance, you spot Jake and Neytiri giggling and whispering among themselves; their own eyes darting between Tsu’tey and yourself. When Jake catches your eye, he rolls his eyes and nods his head toward Tsu’tey, then starts gyrating on the spot as he makes eye-contact with you once more. Neytiri hold a hand to her mouth as she stifles a laugh, swatting him playfully on the arm.

The message is loud and clear, and you pull your eyes away, back to the object of your affection, doing your best to keep your face as neutral as possible.

The look on Tsu’tey’s face sends a shiver crawling up your spine. There is a familiar dark wanting hidden in those amber pools, and in this moment, you have never felt more desired. Arousal thrums from your core when he flashes you a cocky smile; the hint of his fangs glistening in the deep colours cast by fire.

Your liquid courage from before fuels your next move.

Eyes half lidden, you bite your lip and place your hands to your sides. Your hips sway in time with the beat as you drag your fingers up, teasing the swells of your breasts, and up to trace the sides of your face.

Your hands slowly make smooth patterns in the air, before coming down to glide over your chest. There’s no real technique to your fluidity; you simply let the music guide you, letting the sensuality of your movements speak for you.

Even as you do the occasional spin, his eyes never leave you. With your focus set only to the man honed in on you, unfortunately, you fail to notice the staggering body of a Na’vi man about to collide with you.

The drunk warrior spills his entire drink all over your front. The spicy smelling liquid soaks through your shirt, causing it to stick to your skin.

Before you can blink or even register what has happened, large hands are immediately on you, steadying you against a warm body. A hiss, an exchange of heated words. None too soon are you suddenly hoisted into the air.

Your word spins, causing an uncontrollable giggle to come bubbling forth.

---

“Here. Eat.” Tsu’tey’s voice commands, and you feel something wet press against your lips. You take the slimly object into your mouth without hesitation, chewing it slowly.

“Eurgh! That’s so bitter!” You complain as you swallow it with some difficulty. Tsu’tey let’s out a quiet amused huff.

“Bare it. It will help clear the mind.”

He is, of course, right. The world suddenly snaps into focus once more. You take stock of your surroundings.

The two of you are alone, somewhere in the forest. Night still blankets Pandora; the forest sings in quiet tones, effervescent colours dancing in your vision.

You sit at the edge of a heated spring, your feet idly dangling in the warm water. Long blue legs cage you in from either side, and you realise you’re sitting in Tsu’tey’s lap space, leaning against his front.

The memory of your attempted sexy dancing, the disaster sticking to your skin, and now your current seating arrangement, causes you to blush.

And you blush hard, covering your face with your hands.

Tsu’tey chuckles behind you, his voice vibrating in his strong chest, reverberating in your bones.

“Why so shy, [Y/N]? Where did all that confidence go, my little txeptsyì?”

“Tsu’teeey…” You whine, pouting as you look up to him. He takes your hands from your face, his large thumbs gently stroking your palms.

“Where did you learn that dance?”

“Uhhh…Nowhere in particular…I just, wanted to dance for you…The music, the alcohol…your eyes on me…Just felt right is all. Urgh, probably didn’t look sexy at all—”

Tsu’tey ponders the not so familiar word for a moment, trying to recall its meaning.

“The dance…It is meant to entice? Physically?”

“Y-yeah. Sure, let’s put it like that.”

“…Is that what you want, [Y/N]?”

You wordlessly nod. It has been something you craved for a while. Up until now, the two of you spoke only in honeyed words, fleeting touches and chaste kisses. But your body had needs, and the primal desire to become one with your beloved only grew as time passed.

“You are very small, ma tawtute. I could hurt you…” His apprehension shows on his face, ears slightly pinned back.

“I will not break so easily.” The determination in your voice clearly stirs something within him, as evident on his face.

Tsu’tey understands all too well what you want. He had fought with himself when he had first developed feelings for you. But you had burst through the walls he built around his heart, reigniting feelings he thought once lost to him.

And here you were again, fighting against his fear of harming you. It wasn’t the intimacy that scared him, he had long since resigned to the path his heart took, all in stride of course. His biggest fear, was hurting the one he cared most for.

But by the Grace of Eywa, he wanted you as his mate. You were in all sense but physical, already his mate. And there was no doubt in his mind of your intentions. He could smell it. And this wasn’t the first time either.

“Okay.”

You blink at him a few times.

“Wha—really?”

He moves himself into the pool. He stands in front of you, the water coming up passed his waist. He plants his arms on either side of you, boxing you in.

“Yes. You doubt my words?”

“No! No I—” He pulls you up into a heated kiss before you can waste your breath on further words. He holds you gently, careful not to exert too much strength. You melt in his arms, your body already feeling mailable thanks to your slight inebriated state.

When he pulls away, he swipes the thin line of saliva left by his retreat. He tugs at the hem of your top.

“Fì’u’aku.”

You do so without hesitation, hastily throwing the soaked garment aside along with your pants.

Tsu’tey hums appreciatively as you lay bare before him, clad only in your smalls. His eyes roam over your body. From the red flushness of your face, to the swell of your breasts, down does his gaze travel; admiring the smoothness of your skin, the softness of your flesh.

His fingers drag along your sticky skin, worshipping every inch he touches. You marvel at the size of him; his hand covers the whole of your chest. If he wanted, he could crush you with a single squeeze. Slick coats your walls at the mere thought of his strength.

“Hmm. You are, sticky. Tsk. That skxáwng should have watched where he was going.” He leans down, sniffing at the nape of your neck, before giving you a purposeful lick.

You let out a surprised yelp at the contact, the warm thick muscle taking you by surprise.

“W—wait! Shouldn’t I clean myself off first? In the water?”

“Kehe. I will do it for you.”

“With what?”

“Ftxì oeyä.”

The blush on your face deepens at the prospect of him licking you clean. But you don’t object. In fact, the idea excites you all the more. Tsu’tey takes your silence as permission to continue.

He starts at your navel, slowly dragging his tongue up in a straight line, up between your breasts and along your clavicle. He let’s out a low pleasured hum at the back of his throat as he swallows your taste on his tongue.

His mouth is on you again, greedily licking every inch of your skin.

You let out a soft moan when he glides his tongue over your nipples; the sound making his ears flick forward. He does it again, earning himself another delightful moan to fall from your lips.

He smirks as he continues to lick you clean.

Once he is satisfied, you lay there covered in a sheen of his saliva, nipples hard from the cool air. You don’t feel sticky anymore. But you do feel the wetness of your loins.

Tsu’tey gives you a quizzical look, studying you.

“Hm.”

“W-what is it?” You stammer, painfully aroused, but still shy under this intense stare.

“It would seem, I am not yet finished.”

“Huh?...Where could you have possibly missed? I’m practically drenched, heh.” You let out a chuff at your own double entendre. What you don’t anticipate, is the down right lustful knowing smirk he gives you right back.

“Right…here.”

He drags a single finger up your clothed cunt, sending a sudden jolt of pleasure shooting through you.

You inhale sharply at the sudden contact, eyes fluttering closed as he continues to rub you through your panties, soaking them even further in your arousal.

Gently and with purpose, he slowly removes the undergarment, chucking it somewhere near your discarded top.

Feeling shy, you try close your legs. But you are no match for him, and he holds you in place; a hand pressed to either leg, keeping you spread wide open.

“Voìk si.” He commands, and you obey, all to eager for him to just touch you already.

Tsu’tey adjusts in the water, lowering himself to the space between your thighs. He starts kissing the inside of your leg, planting languid kisses as he moves closer to your apex.

He breathes deep of your scent, pupils dilating from your tantalizing smell. When he finally presses a kiss to your folds, you can’t help but sigh in relief. He kisses you again, the pressure of his large mouth against your sex flaming the fires of your arousal. The promise of pleasured release slowly starts to build.

He gives you an experimental lick, marveling at the primal taste you leave on his tongue. He spreads you further apart using his thumbs.

His tongue returns to you, licking away at the soft flesh of your pussy in long strokes. His ears perk at the undignified sound you make when he brushes over your sensitive bud.

Your mouth agape, formed into an ‘o’ as you squirm with pleasure. You squeeze your eyes shut.

His tongue is thick, large and oh so deviously wet against your folds. He presses his tongue flat against your cunt, roughly rubbing against your clit in meaningful strokes.

“Hmmm~! Just like that…” The honeyed tone of your voice is music to his ears. He wonders what other wonderful sounds you can give him. He uses one had to remove himself of his tweng, languidly stroking himself underwater as he continues worshipping your pussy with his mouth.

He licks and sucks at your folds, each ministration pulling you closer and closer to promised release. But it is not enough. Although he enjoys the soft moans and sharp intakes of breath you do, what he really wants, is for you to scream.

Both of his hands are suddenly cupping your ass cheeks, lifting you off the ground. You eyes snap open, widening in shock. He throws your legs over his shoulders, pushing himself forward, lifting you higher. Your core aches as you strain to keep balance on just your arms and upper back; your lower half practically vertical.

He wraps one hand around your waist, holding you still in a tight grip.

He’s on you once more, lavishing your sex in heated licks and gulps. The evidence of your arousal coats the entirety of his mouth, practically dripping down his chin. And he can’t get enough of it.

You hold each other’s stare; gaze unwavering.

Without warning, he presses his tongue to your entrance, plunging his warm tongue right into your welcoming hole.

The sudden stretch is a titillating burn, a burst of pleasure springing forth. Your walls mold around his tongue as he plunges the appendage in and out of you. He uses the thumb of his free hand to toy with your bud.

“F—fuck! Tsu’tey! YES!!!” You don’t break eye contact as your fingers dig into the ground below you as the coil tightens deep in your core. What started clumsily, soon turns ravenous as he fucks you with his tongue. At this downward angle, each plunge of his tongue into your pussy causes him to lick the spongy flesh just right.

Your release draws ever nearer, and you wish you could reciprocate in some way. Tearing your gaze away, you then notice his kuru hanging over his shoulder, resting within reach.

You take this tip in hand, gently squeezing to coax out his tendrils. He watches wide-eyed as you bring them to your face. You let the ends invade your mouth, teasing them with your tongue in a wet slobbering dance. It tingles.

You watch as Tsu’tey’s pupil’s dilate, eyes rolling back before he squeezes them shut. A low growl, perhaps moan, rubbles from deep in his chest and up his throat. The vibration courses through your walls and clit. The grip on your waist tightens, and he engulfs your entire pussy with his mouth. He sucks as hard as he can while rubbing his tongue against that knowing spot deep within your core.

You all but shatter. You scream, uncaring, as the coil snaps, pushing you over the edge.

Your orgasm bursts forth, and he drinks deep of the juices flowing into his mouth. Your legs squeeze tight in an effort to keep his head in place. He helps you ride out your orgasm to the fullest, licking your clit continuously. You remove the tendrils of his kuru from your mouth, desperately trying to speak when the feeling becomes too intense.

“S—stop…It’sss too muuuchh…” You slur your words, pleading. He yields, pulling his mouth away. He slowly licks his lips clean, letting out a low approving moan as he swallows.

“Ftxìlor.” He says, wiping his mouth with his thumb.

If you weren’t already burning, you’d blush at the sight of his mouth shimmering with your juices smeared all over his jaw.

Gently he lowers you back down, letting you rest on your back once more. He washes away your slick with the spring’s water.

Once done, he moves to lean over you, careful to hold himself up so as to not crush you under him. His hand comes to cup the side of your face, eyes searching.

“You are, alright?” He asks, and there is a hint of uncertainty to his voice.

“Alright??” You let out a huff, almost offended by the question.

“I am more than alright. I feel fucking fantastic…That was, amazing. Where did you even learn that?”

He gives you a cheeky grin, self-assured and brimming with pride.

“No where in particular. The sounds you made. The taste of you. It just, felt right.” Cheeky bastard was using your own words against you. You don’t mind though, and let out a soft giggle, placing your hand over his.

He leans closer, kissing you softly. You faintly taste yourself on his skin. You lick his lips teasingly, and feel him smile. He pulls back slightly, resting his forehead against yours.

“[Y/N]. Nga yawne lu oer.”

No matter how many times you hear it, you still get butterflies in your stomach. What a wonderful feeling.

“I love you too, my Mighty Warrior.”

He kisses you again, more passionate than before. His mouth moves against yours hungrily, yearning. You get the distinct feeling he’s ready. And by Eywa’s will do you feel ready as well.

When next he pulls away, you can see the desire burning in his eyes. He opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

“Ma Tsu’tey…I’m ready.”

“Yawne…”

You press a kiss to his nose.

“Let me feel all of you, my love. Join with me, before Eywa. Become truly mine…”

The smile he gives you is soft and genuine; nothing like the cheeky smirks or prideful grins.

He stands up, taking you by the legs and pulling your cunt flush with his pelvis. You look forward, and eyes widen at the sheer size of his hardened cock now nestled between your legs.

Your eyes dart from his face to his member a few times. You peer up at him, eyes pleading.

You needed that thing inside you right the fuck now.

“Now, [Y/N]…” You bite your lip as you watch him take himself in hand, lining up with your entrance.

“Rikx rä’ä.”

You scream in ecstasy with the first thrust.

---

Glossary: txeptsyì - flame tawtute - human Fì’u’aku - remove this skxáwng - moron fnu - be quiet kehe - no ftxì oeyä - my tongue voìk si - behave ftxìlor - delicious Nga yawne lu oer - I love you yawne - beloved Rikx rä’a - don't move

---

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#tsutey x reader #tsu'tey x reader #tsutey smut #tsu'tey smut #tsu'tey fluff #human reader #female reader #afab reader #reader insert #avatar smut #avatar fanfiction #tsu'tey x human reader #tsutey x human reader #tsu'tey x human smut #tsutey x human smut #Spotify

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fragileheartbeats · 1 month

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Do a male Rhaenyra x sis reader x male version of your oc Selaehra

THE THREE HEAD DRAGON

꒰͡ ⠀ ִ 𝑅ℎ𝑎𝑦𝑛𝑎𝑟 𝑥 𝑆𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑥 𝑆𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑛 ⠀ׂ ⠀ ͡꒱

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 ☆ 𝑹𝒉𝒂𝒚𝒏𝒂𝒓 𝑻𝒂𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒓𝒚𝒆𝒏

Rhaynar is proud and fiery, embodies the spirit of House Targaryen with his unmatched valor and stubbornness. His skills in combat are only matched by his fierce protectiveness over those he loves. Yet, beneath this warrior's exterior lies a heart that yearns for the affection and approval of the only family he has known. His jealousy over his sister's attention towards Selarion is not merely a reflection of sibling rivalry but a fear of losing one of the few constants in his life: her companionship and support.

Rhaynar, with his long, straight silver-gray hair that falls like a curtain of moonlight down his back, stands tall and proud among the crowd. His eyes, a deep and mesmerizing purple, scan the room with an intensity that speaks of power and a fierce protectiveness. Clad in a doublet of dark red that complements his noble stature, he moves with a grace that belies his warrior's strength, each step a testament to his claim to the throne and to the heart of the one he loves.

He wears his heart like a badge of honor, fierce and unguarded. His affection is as intense as his spirit, expressed in grand gestures and bold declarations. His hugs are enveloping, a sanctuary of strength and warmth, often lifting Y/n off her feet in moments of spontaneous joy or comfort. He is not one to shy away from public displays of affection, seeing them as a declaration of his claim and devotion. Rhaynar's kisses are fiery, mirroring his passionate nature, often sought in the heat of the moment, leaving her breathless and wanting. Yet, beneath this stormy exterior lies a sensitivity; he cherishes the softness of kisses on his forehead, seeing them as acts of pure love and acceptance. His jealousy, a fierce flame, can lead to impulsive actions, driven by the fear of losing his love to his brother. However, his anger, though quick to ignite, is equally quick to dissipate, especially in the face of his sister gentle reassurances.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 ☆ 𝑺𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝑻𝒂𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒓𝒚𝒆𝒏

Selarion on the other hand, arrives at the Red Keep carrying the weight of his mother's death and the burden of his unique heritage. His red eyes, a rarity among humans, mark him as an outsider from the beginning. Yet, it is this very difference that captures Y/n's fascination and sympathy. Over time, as he teaches her Valyrian, a language not just of words but of their shared history and blood, Selarion begins to see in his half sister a kindred spirit, someone who looks beyond the surface to the person he is inside.

Selarion, is the embodiment of the sun's last light, his short but lustrous silver-golden hair catching the candlelight and setting him aglow. His shining ruby eyes sparkle with mischief and intelligence, a striking reminder of the dragon's fire that courses through his veins. Dressed in a simple yet elegant tunic of soft gray, edged with silver, he stands slightly apart from the throng, his gaze fixed on his sister, the object of his affections and the catalyst for his rivalry with Rhaynar.

in contrast, is the whisper to Rhaynar's roar, his affections conveyed through subtle glances and the soft brush of fingertips against skin. His hugs are rare but meaningful, a tight embrace that speaks volumes of his deep feelings, often shared in private moments where he allows his guard to drop. Selarion's approach to love is thoughtful, every gesture and word carefully chosen to convey his affection without overwhelming. His kisses are tender, a delicate touch that promises more, often placed on his sister's palms or wrists as a sign of reverence and deep affection. Selarion prefers kisses that linger on his neck, seeing them as an intimate exchange of trust and desire. His jealousy is a silent storm, manifesting in a cool distance and sharp words, yet he never lets it cloud his judgment or actions for long. Selarion treasures every detail about his sister, from her laughter to the way her eyes light up at the sight of the night sky, storing these memories like precious jewels.

Y/n, younger than both and thrust into their world, finds herself drawn to each brother for different reasons. In Rhaynar, she sees the strength and passion of her house, a mirror to her own fiery spirit. In Selarion, she finds a depth and complexity, a shared sense of being different in a world that values conformity. Her heart is torn between the two, each holding a piece of her soul in their hands.

As the years pass, the rivalry between Rhaynar and Selarion intensifies, both in their quest for the Iron Throne and their affection for their sister. Their battles, once confined to the training yards, spill over into the court, a dangerous game of power and persuasion. Rhaynar, ever the warrior, tries to win his sister's heart through acts of valor and demonstrations of his prowess, hoping to show her that he can protect and provide for her in a chaotic world.

Selarion, meanwhile, employs a subtler strategy. His gifts are not swords or shields but whispered words and shared secrets. He listens to her, understands her dreams and fears, and in doing so, offers her a partnership of equals. His charm and intelligence serve him well, presenting a vision of a future where they might rule side by side, not just as king and queen but as true companions.

Their expressions of love, though differing in intensity and manner, are equally profound, each brother seeking to carve a place in the Y/n's heart. Rhaynar's love is a tempest, demanding and all-consuming, while Selarion's affection is a river, deep and enduring. Their first kisses with their sister are emblematic of their approaches to love: Rhaynar's, a spontaneous act of passion, and Selarion's, a gentle confession in the quiet of the night.

The rivalry between them is as much a part of their love as their shared history. It drives them to greater heights of affection and acts of devotion, each brother striving to be the one who holds the Y/n's heart. Yet, it is also this rivalry that sharpens the fear of loss, the dread that one might be chosen over the other.

As the music begins, a soft, haunting melody that fills the air with a sense of longing and possibility, Selarion sees his opportunity. With a confident stride, he approaches his sister, his gaze never wavering from hers. "May I have this dance, my beautiful lady?" he asks, his voice low and inviting, a smile playing on his lips that promises secrets and adventures untold.

Before she can respond, Rhaynar steps forward, his hand extended, his expression a mixture of challenge and desire. "I believe my sister was about to accept my invitation," he says, turning his gaze sharply towards Selarion, the tension between them palpable.

Selarion's smile widens, but his eyes harden, the ruby depths gleaming with an inner fire. "Ah, dear brother, always so quick to assume," he retorts, his tone light but edged with steel. "But it seems you've forgotten that it is her choice to make, not ours."

Y/n, caught between them, feels the weight of their stares, the air charged with the intensity of their rivalry. Yet, in this moment, she finds her voice, her strength. "I choose to dance with both of you," she declares, her voice steady and clear. "One after the other. That is my decision."

Rhaynar's expression softens, a grudging respect in his gaze as he nods, stepping back to allow Selarion the first dance. Selarion, triumphant yet gracious, offers his hand to his sister, leading her onto the dance floor with a flourish.

As they dance, Selarion's movements are smooth and calculated, each step a whisper of his affections, his body close yet respectful. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his breath warm against her ear. "As if the gods created you to be worshipped by mortals."

Her heart flutters at his words, at the feel of him so near. Yet, as the music swells and their time together draws to a close, she knows that this is but the beginning of their dance, a dance that will require all her strength and wisdom to navigate.

When the music ends, and Selarion steps back with a bow, Rhaynar takes his place, his dance a contrast of passion and power, a promise of his undying affection and his determination to win her heart.

As the night unfolds, with each brother vying for her favor, she realizes that her heart is not a prize to be won but a gift to be given. And in the end, it will be her choice, a choice made not in the shadow of rivalry but in the light of love.

𝗕𝗢𝗡𝗨𝗦:

In the heart of a forest as ancient as the realm itself, where the whispers of the old gods still lingered among the rustling leaves, the hunting party moved with a grace that belied their noble birth. Rhaynar and Selarion, scions of House Targaryen, rode side by side, their rivalry momentarily forgotten in the shared thrill of the hunt. The morning mist clung to the earth, weaving a silvery veil that shrouded the woods in mystery and magic.

Rhaynar, with the sun's first rays glinting off his silver hair, seemed as much a creature of the dawn as the woodland around them. His eyes, a striking violet, scanned the forest with an intensity that spoke of a fierce desire to prove himself, not just as a hunter but as a man worthy of respect and, perhaps, love.

Selarion, ever the enigma, rode with an elegance that was almost otherworldly. His ruby-red eyes, so often regarded with suspicion and fear, were alight with a different flame today—a competitive spark that matched his brother's. Their horses, magnificent beasts of pure Targaryen stock, moved with a silent understanding, as if they too sensed the importance of this day.

As the forest awakened, a white stag, majestic and ethereal, appeared before them. It stood in a clearing, bathed in a shaft of sunlight that seemed to crown it in a halo of gold. The sight of it took their breath away, for it was said that to encounter such a creature was a portent of momentous change.

Rhaynar's hand went to his bow, a reflex born of countless hunts, but something stilled his movement. The stag, with eyes as deep and knowing as the oldest tales, held his gaze, and in that moment, Rhaynar felt a connection to the world around him that was as profound as it was inexplicable. With a silent nod, as if acknowledging the stag's sovereignty over this realm, Rhaynar lowered his weapon.

Selarion, watching from a slight distance, observed his brother's action with a complexity of emotions swirling in his eyes. For a heartbeat, he too was caught in the stag's mystical presence. Yet, where Rhaynar saw a connection, Selarion saw opportunity. With a swift, fluid motion, he notched an arrow to his bow, drew, and released.

The arrow flew true, a perfect arc through the misty air, striking the stag with a silent, deadly grace. As the creature fell, the spell of the morning was broken, and the forest seemed to sigh with a sorrow as ancient as time itself. And then Selarion moved and cut it's head to make it's death less painful.

Rhaynar turned to Selarion, his eyes ablaze not just with the fire of anger, but with the hurt of betrayal. "Why did you kill it???" His voice, thick with emotion, echoed through the trees. "I was the first to find it, and I spared it! You had no right to kill it After I, the future king of seven kingdoms let it go!!!"

Selarion, wiping a splatter of blood from his cheek with the back of his hand, met his brother's gaze with a calm that belied the tumult within. "Exactly, dear brother," he said, his voice low and steady, yet carrying a sharpness that cut deeper than any blade. "You had the opportunity, but you didn't use it. The world is like that. Either you get what you want, or someone else gets it instead of you. And you may forget it but you're no king in my eyes, not now and not ever."

As the words hung in the air, heavy with implication, the brothers stood on the brink of an understanding profound and unsettling. The hunting party, silent witnesses to this moment of raw truth, looked on as the future of House Targaryen, and perhaps the realm itself, teetered on the edge of a knife.

In the heart of the forest, amidst the ancient trees and whispered secrets, Rhaynar and Selarion faced not just each other, but the realization that the hunt was for more than game—it was for power, for love, and for the destiny that awaited them beyond the woods.

@ 𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒔 . 𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑒, 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡, 𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑠 𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑠.

@emily2003alzaga @nash-dara @altaircc @heavenly1927 @omgsuperstarg @asoiafhyperfixation

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btsmosphere · 13 days

Text

Supercharged | JJK

Chapter 1: the Light Dies

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🗲summary: It starts with a blow to the chest that changes your life. When your city’s most celebrated hero pays a visit, it turns out the noble Bolt has no trouble tossing lives aside. Lives that won't be missed. Lives like yours. Seven mysterious and powerful men give you another chance – one that starts to feel more like a curse the moment you meet golden boy Jungkook. The boy who wants you as far from his brothers as he can get you. Is it you he hates, or the blue lightning that now runs through your veins? And could it be his golden light that illuminates your heart when darkness threatens? 🗲this chapter: He’s the hero. Unfortunately for you, you’re not the villain.

🗲pairing: jungkook x female reader 🗲word count: 6.6k 🗲genre: angst, action, eventual fluff, enemies to lovers, slow burn, superheroes/villains au, it’s sorta like a mafia au but they have superpowers lmao 🗲rating: pg15 🗲warnings: violence with superpowers, minor character death, attempted murder, injury, loss of consciousness

a/n: I have to say thank you to @casuallyimagining and @bluewhale52 for betaing this chapter, although this might come as a surprise to them since that was maybe 3 years ago now?😅I'm really not sure how much my writing had changed since then, but you guys can be the judge of that as the future chapters unfold! In the meantime, enjoy! If you want more supercharged in your life, you can also search my supercharged tag to find some musings, rambling, gifsets and visuals etc that inspired me and kept me going while I lost my mind over this story!

Lastly, I present the supercharged playlist✨ I had a lot of fun making this – several songs align with plot events, while some of them are there for the title, the vibe, or even a single line! Feel free to guess which are which or come and chat with me about it👀

An ear-splitting roar was barely contained behind shuddering steel doors. Just down the corridor, your fingers still clicked away, unperturbed, at your keyboard.

Tapping your foot, you looked impatiently up at the clock as another thunderous bellow assaulted the air. If the full-length windows weren’t reinforced by your boss, Kuyang’s own design, they would be rattling in their frames.

Blowing to rid your face of a strand of hair, you returned to your work, not even sparing a glance towards the source of the racket. It was only around half an hour until you could leave work for the weekend.

Finishing your task, you turned to filing the correspondence on your desk as a few yells carried through the air, mingled with the monster’s uproar. Bills and business deals the lot of them, you tucked them away in their respective places to be dealt with next week – only to stop on the very last one. How many times had the postman ignored the very clear sign for no newspapers?

You supposed the city felt the need to remind everyone that there was some semblance of central control – not really of much concern in a workplace such as yours, mind. Glancing across the front page, you realised why. You didn’t have a tv at home, but you would have to live under a rock not to recognise your city’s most celebrated superhero. Bolt, the media’s beloved, had claimed another victory against some crazy start-up trying to build their own bombs downtown.

The hero’s blue-masked face grinned confidently up at you from the desk, while police led what looked to be two scruffy teenagers into the back of their van. But Bolt’s vivid presence eclipsed them in his suit that matched his bright eyes.

Not bothering to read further, you pushed the paper into the waste bin at the end of the table.

Just as you were tucking away the final bits of paper, your boss emerged, wiping his brow on a cloth that looked as dirty as his face. Smiling pleasantly despite his ruffled state, you rotated on your chair to face him.

“Frank’s all good and sleepy now,” he said, “if you could get him sent up to the chamber.”

“Sure,” you nodded, already getting up and straightening your jacket.

With nothing more than a weary nod of appreciation, he left for his private laboratory. This was through a series more armoured doors, to which only you and a small number of lab workers knew the codes.

He was a scientist. And you were sure he was unhinged, but the job paid well, so that was all you concerned yourself with.

In fact, you had got very lucky. You had been surprised when such a good position had become available and quickly given to someone as ill-qualified as you, with no references to give. But your lack of connections seemed of no concern, and here you were, finally making ends meet and no longer in fear of being turned out of your run-down apartment at the edge of town.

So you did your job as well as you could, worrying yourself over nothing except pleasing the odd man that was Kuyang.

Even so, it was still a little daunting each time you had to come face-to-face with one of his experiments.

Reaching the steel doors that had not long ago been seriously threatening their hinges, you took a breath. Holding your thumb over a scanner by the door, you plastered a confident smile on your face as you walked inside.

Affectionately dubbed ‘Frank’, a great lump of teeth and dark furry flesh several times bigger than you was sleeping in a pod at the centre of the room. Surrounding this were multitudes of screens showing graphs and readings you couldn’t hope to understand.

At the edges of the room, a smattering of other workers were slumped against the stainless steel lab walls, almost as rumpled as their boss had been.

A hulking guard, Taeyeon, stood near the entrance, and you quietly confirmed with her that Frank was under and secure. Nodding, you gestured to Taeyeon’s team, another man and woman with the same uniform and intimidating stature.

Together, you assembled in front of the tank that held Frank, Taeyeon typing authorisation into one of the computers. The others locked down the external doors, just in case.

Though it was a familiar sight by now, the opening of the pod always prompted you to run through your training. If you hadn’t read it in the documents you dealt with, you would not have known Frank was also known as Necrus X, a new prototype Kuyang was working on, although you could not imagine what for.

Kuyang had been sure to tell you how to knock out the creature if it ever came to it, though. There was a spot behind his ear, which was more of a ridge at the side of his enormous head.

With the pod open, a panel rose from the floor, taking Frank rotating upwards. You caught sight of the patch behind its ear, zeroing in on it. Just in case.

The smooth expanse of ceiling split then, a hole revealing itself as the roof shrunk away into the walls, leaving a clear path for Frank to rise to the next floor, where he was stored.

As effortlessly as the ceiling retreating, a smooth steel staircase emerged from the walls. You and Taeyeon climbed it, spiralling around the edges of the circular space until you drew level with Frank, now snoring on the upper floor. Here, the space was wide open like an empty art gallery, half the walls comprised of expansive windows, no lab equipment to be seen.

The floor closed up beneath you both and you walked around Frank, opening a secret panel in the wall. As before, you raised your thumb to a blank scanner – but got no further.

A deafening smash sent you crouching to the ground in panic. Livid blue painted all the walls in the space as shattered glass skidded across the floor.

You had thought that glass to be unbreakable. At least that was the intention. But when you turned, you were forced to believe your ears: the central panel of glass was completely blown in, all the others down the row cracked from the force.

At the same moment the glass had shattered, you could suddenly hear what before had been hidden behind soundproofing. Outside, there were shouts, screams, car horns and alarms blaring from every angle – and above all, sirens. Sirens wailing through the air like disembodied banshees, descending, apparently, on your building.

Shuffling along the floor, you peered past the sleeping mass that was Frank in front of you. Walking across the room was a man in a tight blue suit, the same hue crackling in the air around his hands.

Bolt.

Mind short-circuiting, you were frozen. What should you do?

What was Bolt doing here? Was there some kind of threat? The image of him should have brought you relief, even though you knew nothing of what the danger was, but you hesitated.

Only having the presence of mind to shrink back silently behind Frank, you looked between the beast and the control panel you had abandoned. But you had no more chance to move before a fearsome crack ripped through the air, another flash of blue, sending the hairs on your arms bolting upright.

Spinning back to face Frank, you were met with a thump. A body, falling onto the floor.

Though she was mostly obscured by Frank’s sleeping form, you stared in unbelieving horror at Taeyeon where she lay, unmoving. Breath accelerating in your throat, you moved at last, scooting yourself back and away. Closer to the wall.

First you lunged to sound the alarm, mounted inside the wall panel, which instantly lit the room up in throbbing red, blaring loud enough to drown out the sirens outside. Then your hand was fumbling across the scanner. You had to get Frank locked away.

The walls of the pod which safely contained Frank overnight began to descend, much too slowly for your liking. Whirling to face the room, your heart seized in your chest when the imposing figure of Bolt, now shaded purple by the red light, met your eyes.

A glance up at the descending walls. They were halfway to the ground by now, but you still had to enter the code to lock them down.

Bolt yelled for you to stop, barely audible over the dizzying noise of the warning siren.

As he strode towards you, you could only watch, pressing yourself desperately against the wall as if it could swallow you up.

Bright light cut through the imposing red as the heavy door at the opposite end of the room was thrown open. Bolt stopped, both of you turning to see Kuyang enter. His hair was still sticking up from earlier, a strange expression on his face that you hadn’t seen before.

Paying no mind to the maniacal smile that had no place on Kuyang’s face, you took the moment of distraction to scramble for the code lock.

Without a sound, the gap between the floor and Frank’s pod closed, and your fingers were already leaping to action, typing the numbers behind your back at lightning speed.

Kuyang was running now, a direct path towards Bolt. But Bolt turned back towards you.

You were nearly done, but his hand was raising towards you…

In a split second, your fingertip met the final key of the code. Almost instantly, it was ripped away as shocking blue light cut through the air. You felt the impact before you could even notice that it was aimed at you.

Hitting you square in the chest, white hot pain scorched through your every nerve as your body was flung backwards, powerless as a ragdoll sailing through the air. The collision with the cracked window behind was almost lost on you. More intense pain was writhing its way down each limb, making you cry out, uncaring about the rain-spattered wind that whipped about your face now.

But you could see shards of glass as they fell along with you, like daggers aimed at the ground.

Biting wind rushed in your ears, the sound crashing over you like waves. And just as a pan sizzles down off the heat, the ferocious attack of pain seemed to reduce just as fast as it had invaded you.

Your heartbeat was the loudest thing, booming over the insistent web of sirens and whistling air.

Breathing choppily, you screwed your eyes nearly closed, suddenly aware of the tempest around you as you fell. Above, the already darkening winter night was illuminated with flashes of that awful blue.

You were falling.

It hit you then, as if you hadn’t been falling all this time. But it was only now that your senses caught up with themselves. You worked on a very high floor of the skyscraper, but as you were tossed around in the air, you saw the ground rapidly approaching.

A horror gripped your chest like nothing you had ever felt before.

Below you, and rushing towards you at terrifying speed, a skip sat surrounded by heaps of trash on the street. Unable to think, you could only shield your face with your hands, stretched out in front of you as if to stop the inevitable collision.

Though your eyes fell closed, you felt the jerk that flung your whole body backwards.

That wasn’t what you had expected.

Eyes snapping open in confusion, you found your vision lit with blue. In front of your face, blue light was shooting from your palms, pushing you up and away from the ground.

Your mouth fell open. Gaping in shock, you did nothing as the light died and you slowed again in the air.

Though you began falling much slower this time, you barely had time to notice your surroundings – much nearer the ground – before you were plummeting again, and this time nothing could stop you.

Your eyes weren’t even open when you felt your body slide off something. Not a second later, you were crumpling onto hard concrete which grazed your cheek.

You groaned.

It was dark. High above, any flashes of light didn’t reach you here, having landed in a thin alley beside the building. And though this shielded you from the commotion on the main streets out front, sirens still pierced the air, each one feeling like a stab to your head.

You clutched it as you maneuvered to sit. It took you a few tries, groping for a wall or something to lean against as you regained your balance.

Eyes cracking open, you waited patiently for the dark splotches to dispel before looking around.

Right next to you was a car which blocked you from view of the road beyond this alley. Evident from the dent that caved in its bonnet, that was what you had landed on.

Turning your head, you had to squint even more as light assaulted your sensitive eyes.

Among a blazing light, you could make out the vague shapes of rubbish bags and an overflowing skip that you recognised. Out of these, a vibrant fire was now burning. The correlation was too strong for you to ignore.

Breath shallow, you turned your horrified gaze to your hands.

They had done this… but how? They looked totally normal now.

Frowning, you brought them up closer to your face, so that your nose was practically buried in your palms.

No difference.

You were sure you hadn’t imagined that blue light which saved you earlier. Was there a way to make it come back?

While you were puzzling, you lowered your hands again, still staring intently as you rotated them in your lap.

Then, quick as a blink, a blue flash darted from them again. So fast, in fact, that you had no time to react before one of the bolts was fired directly into your opposite arm.

Snatching it away reflexively, you hissed in pain as a burning sensation crawled, tingling, over your skin there.

Despite the pain, the blue light didn't cease shooting from your hands. They tingled, a strangely uncomfortable sensation. It was as if something warm was wriggling its way up your veins and spilling from your fingertips.

“Stop! Stop!” you whispered in panic.

You turned them outwards, aiming away from you, but if they kept at it for much longer you were sure to draw attention.

Moving your hands around jerkily, the beams of light shook along with you, but did not go out. With each unsuccessful movement, panic made you more frantic until the glowing rays jerked erratically around the small space.

Straying too far, the light came into contact with a post at the alley’s entrance. You could only watch, helpless, as light like blue snakes skittered up it and latched around the wires it supported.

To your relief, the strange current seemed to have found an outlet, and only remained a second longer before cutting out. You were left blinking in the relative darkness. Panting heavily, you stared down at your hands, although you did not bring them too close anymore.

Once again, they appeared utterly innocent. There was nothing to suggest they had just channelled lightning through them.

Suddenly, the world plunged into darkness. The fire still burned at the other end of the alley, or you would have been left totally blind. In the building behind you, in the street, all the lights had gone out.

Almost instantly following the blackout, screaming rose again in the air.

Gulping, your eyes travelled to the blackened post at the corner, which you had accidentally electrocuted.

This was bad. Your head was spinning, both from your short, hard fall and from the whirlwind of events that had happened in what could only have been minutes. Surrounded by darkness, with the wail of the city and a fire for company, you could only see one course of action.

Run.

You had to get away from here. It wasn’t safe. You had little idea where was safe, but you couldn’t be here anymore.

It wasn’t like you had anyone to call who would care enough to come and pick you up. Nor did you have the money to try a hospital, though you felt as if you may need it.

But especially with electricity shooting from your hands at the drop of a hat, it probably wasn’t best to be anywhere around people.

The dizziness from your unfortunate landing on the car had worn off while you were sitting, but the world swayed anew the moment you made to stand. Pushing determinedly against the wall, you struggled on anyway, brand new dark spots in your vision offset by the brightness of the fire you walked towards.

This end of the alleyway led out through smaller streets, away from the city centre and furore of sirens.

On reaching the opening, you cautiously assessed the road stretching away either side. Empty. And if there was anyone there, they wouldn’t see you in this darkness.

Shoving your hands beneath your armpits on some misguided hope of keeping them from causing problems, you lowered your head and ran. It was more of a jog, considering everything, but you still moved as quickly as you could beneath the dead streetlamps.

Head throbbing more with movement, you stumbled a few times as you went. The pavement tilted around you.

You had made it a few roads before you felt that awful tingling in your arms again. It itched, like something fighting its way out of your skin.

Nausea rolled in the pit of your stomach. This couldn’t be real.

Slowing down and stopping beneath a signpost, you drew your shaking hands out in front of you. The world careened on its axis, revolving around the sight of your palms as a faint blue glow grew in them.

You were going to throw up, you were sure of it.

You wanted it to stop.

A few flickers of blue darted down the veins in your wrist. Towards your fingertips. Sparks leapt from them, small tendrils of lightning crackling between your fingers like webbing.

At last, you gave in to the rising horror mixed with a sick feeling. The floor’s spinning became too much, your hands turning to a bright blur in the centre of your vision.

You passed out on the spot.

Lights were turning on again around the city. Television sets flickering back to life to announce Bolt’s victory against the beast that had attacked earlier that evening.

But not on the street where you still lay.

The return of light only reached neighbouring roads, dim glow snuffed out before it could penetrate the middle of this street. A white-haired young man stepped forwards, but his face was totally obscured in darkness.

“Here,” he spoke to the silence.

The next moment, a deep red glowed in the middle of the road, though it brought little light. The red bounced off a signpost before it was gone, replaced by another man, seemingly from nowhere.

The newest arrival stood there, looking down at your figure, unconscious by the sign. Then he disappeared again, leaving total darkness behind as if he had never been there at all.

A few more moments passed, you and the hidden man the only beings on the dark road.

Not very long after, a car’s engine rumbled and sputtered into earshot. The bright beam of headlights rounded the corner, growing larger and shedding light on your form as it drew closer.

Pulling up next to you, the engine died along with the lights. Two doors opened and slammed shut.

As two pairs of feet stepped nearer to join the one remaining beside you, the streetlamp directly overhead began to glow. The faint glimmer grew until it illuminated the scene. Still no other lights joined it, leaving the small group of you lit up as if by spotlight.

“It’s her?”

The man crouching beside you asked the question without looking up, and the shadowed man answered.

“Pretty sure.”

“She’s breathing?”

“Yes.”

The crouching man hummed. Moving to kneel instead, his eyes roved over your somewhat battered face, dark hair obscuring his own.

“Namjoon?” he asked then, turning to the other man from the car. It was the same man who had momentarily appeared in the street earlier.

Taking his cue, the tall man, Namjoon, walked forwards and bent to lift your hands by the wrists. In just moments he was placing them carefully back, nodding.

“No doubt.”

“Okay then.”

“Can she travel, Jin?”

“Give me a moment.”

Producing a small object, he pressed a button and a small light sprung from the end. Carefully lifting one of your eyelids, he shone the light into it, observing like a doctor.

The first you became aware of was the far away sound of voices being quietly exchanged. But with the cloudiness in your head, identifying them didn’t seem very urgent. You were preoccupied with the swirling feeling that made the world swim around you, even though it was dark.

But as dim awareness was returning to you, the process of regaining your senses was violently accelerated as a blinding light was thrust into your vision.

You flinched, and as Jin pulled away he saw you blink, eyelids screwing shut in protest. His eyebrows raised in slight concern as he watched your first groggy movements.

Blinking around at the dimly lit figures over you, your eyes widened. The nearest man held the illuminated light stick. Was he a doctor?

Next, your eyes darted to the tall man standing behind him. You recognised neither.

Some strange feeling told you someone else was standing there too, but when you looked to your other side you were faced with nothing but empty shadow.

“Can you sit?”

The first man’s question was gentle, his hands ready to support you.

Nodding timidly, you heaved yourself up with his help. It embarrassed you to be panting after just that much movement.

“What happened?” came the next question.

As you replayed the events, you avoided their eyes. You could not let them know what happened, what you had become. They were helping you, and yet you might hurt them-

Fists clenching subconsciously, you stuttered in panic.

“I-I can’t pay,” you told them, but before you could say more a new voice was speaking. The standing man stepped forwards, his voice calm and surprisingly friendly.

“There’s no need to pay. We can help you. Can you tell us what happened?”

“I don’t, uh, I-I-“

His eyes travelled towards your hands, which you were trying to tuck behind you.

“You gained powers, didn’t you?”

You froze.

“I have them too,” he smiled, “I know what it’s like to be scared. But you can work with this and learn to control them. I’m Namjoon, and this is Jin. We’ve been through this before, we can help you.”

At your sides, your hands relaxed. Tension lifted from your tightly hunched shoulders. Wordless, you looked between the men who were watching you, ready to move, but only on your word.

Swallowing, a light frown creased your brow.

“What do you want-”

Namjoon’s smile dimmed into something kinder.

“At least let us check you over.”

Your hands fretted together. It was strange, you couldn’t feel anything there. Surely they should feel different? How would you know if these… powers, Namjoon had said, were to come back?

“You won’t hurt us, don’t worry,” he seemed to anticipate your thoughts as he watched you, “we can protect ourselves.”

“You were unconscious,” Jin spoke, drawing your perplexed gaze back to him, “did you hit your head?”

You blinked, but found yourself answering.

“I think so.”

Nodding, Jin shuffled at your side. He leaned a bit closer.

“I need to shine this light in your eyes again. You may have a concussion.”

Complying, you sat through the eye-watering brightness. He asked you things, like a doctor would, except he was working in the middle of an empty street in the middle of the night.

“Do you feel dizzy?”

“I did. I think still, a little.”

“Any nausea?”

“Yeah… but maybe because of the…” you gestured to your hands.

Jin sat back, taking the light with him. Namjoon shot you a sympathetic smile at that. You supposed he had been through the same thing, from the sounds of it.

Jin looked up at Namjoon.

“It looks pretty rough. Definitely a concussion, and she needs patching up, but in the long run she’ll be fine.”

“I-I’m serious,” you interjected, “I don’t have the money for hospital…”

Your voice faltered. You half thought of asking to just go home, but you were hardly sure of even making it there by yourself. And if you got there, then what? The prospect of burning down the place with these errant powers didn’t fill you with comfort.

“Good thing we’re not going to bring you there, then,” Namjoon said, “but I meant it when I said we could help. We can take you home, if you want… but you can stay with us, too.”

You stared at him wordlessly. Was it crazy that you were considering this?

“Just for a bit, if you need,” Jin added softly, “it’s just… now might not be the smartest time to be alone.”

You chewed your cheek. But your head was pounding too much to think very hard, and this seemed like the most straightforward option. The people in this city kept surprising you, after your first stroke of luck with Kuyang's generosity.

“Sure…” you spoke quietly, not quite able to look them in the eyes, “yes please.”

“Okay,” Namjoon took it in stride, “but let’s get moving.”

“Just one moment – we should wrap that.”

Gesturing towards your arm, Jin stood and went back to the car. On his return, he knelt again and began to secure cling film around the angry red blotch blistering your skin, where you had caught yourself with your own beam.

“We’ll sort it out properly when we get back,” he told you, “but Namjoon’s right, we should be going.”

You followed his gaze which seemed to dart up and down the street. However, nothing was there.

Jin helped you stand, still looking around. Sure enough, the dizziness from before hadn’t quite left you yet. Biting down on your lip, you focussed hard on getting the short distance to the car. You were led to the passenger seat and crumpled gratefully into it.

But just as Jin closed the door, you felt an uncomfortable prickling clutch your forearms again. Namjoon slid into the back seat in time to hear your gasp, noticing the way your fingers flexed in panic. Digging in his pockets, he produced a pair of thin black gloves and held them out to you just as the first trickles of blue appeared in your veins again. He watched with a studious frown as you pushed your hands into the gloves.

“Those will help,” he said, still looking at your wrists, “they can contain the powers. But you shouldn’t keep them on for too long.”

Jin was seating himself in the driver’s side as you frowned over at Namjoon. At first you had been relieved to have a solution to your erratic lightning problem, but that was ripped away at his last addition.

“Why not? It will keep you safe,” you questioned, but kept your voice quiet.

“Don’t worry, we’re more than capable of handling anything you could throw at us,” he laughed, “but you can keep them on in here. Best not to bottle up your powers forever, though.”

Resigned, you turned back to face front. The moment Jin stepped on the gas, all the lights in the road sparked to life at once. Startled, you blinked, looking around. On the pavement you were just pulling away from, a man was walking away, unidentifiable behind a hoodie.

Slumping back in your seat, you breathed a short, dry laugh. This mysterious happening was just the latest in this crazy night. You had no choice but to accept it.

The car ride was fairly short, but you were too tired and distracted to take in exactly where you were going. Streets seemed to blur together, aware only that you were heading out of town.

The itching in your arms had persisted for a while, but as promised, the gloves seemed to work. No fiery blue burst out of your palms, and, eventually, whatever it was decided to give it up, subsiding again by the time the car pulled up.

But no one got out yet. Jin had stopped at the end of a small road, big enough for only one vehicle, directly facing an expanse of crumbling and graffitied brick.

Curiosity woke you up from your daze, and you watched as Jin reached to tap something on his dashboard. Almost instantly, a groaning reached your ears from over the whirring of the engine. The wall ahead shook before shifting, sliding sideways until it tucked itself behind a dented dustbin, unveiling a space beyond.

Leaving you little more time to wonder, Jin started the car again and you rolled downwards through a plain, dark entrance. It reminded you of those multi-storey car parks formed with ugly blocks of concrete. It was considerably smaller than those, however, Jin pullingup into a space alongside about a dozen other vehicles, beyond which the place seemed entirely deserted.

Jin came around to open your door, but you were able to stand by yourself. It was still a bit of a struggle, your limbs sluggish and the world dull around you – although that may have just been the low underground light.

Namjoon led you, Jin staying close by your side. Blinking at the space as you moved through it, your eyes traced over the various car roofs, some cleaner than others. A larger four-by-four was particularly beaten up, with a large crease in one of the metal wheel arches.

Your eyes rested longest on what was probably the most pristine: a motorbike, at first hidden by the cars either side of it.

Soon enough, you were past them. Stopping as Namjoon did, you watched him expectantly. However, he did not turn around, instead standing face-to-face with a plain concrete wall. Except… now a low rumble announced the movement of a panel which slid away, revealing a wide doorway which had previously blended seamlessly with the flat wall.

Your eyebrows raised at the touch that was reminiscent of Kuyang’s lab. Without time for you to dwell on this, your small group moved up a dingy staircase that lay beyond the doorway.

At the top, you emerged into a new space, notably lighter than before. You assumed you were back on ground level, perhaps above. It was hard to be sure, disoriented as you still were in the whirlwind that had overtaken your day.

Bizarrely, the space appeared to be someone’s home. There was a large and coffee-stained table surrounded by mismatching chairs, a kitchen behind it littered with mugs and pot plants. Still, beyond the lived-in array of things lying around, it was big. You imagined it must be miles more expensive than the shoddy apartment you stayed in.

It was open plan, and you followed Namjoon past the dining table towards an area filled with two enormous sofas.

The back of a blond head was visible over the sofa, and now the person turned towards you.

“Guys!” a loud exclamation rang out as he leapt up. A dazzling smile spread across his mouth.

When his eyes fell on you, wincing at his sudden volume, the smile dimmed a little.

“Not so loud, Hope-ah,” Jin spoke gently from behind you.

“Sorry,” he dipped his head, smile remaining on his lips.

Jin’s hands came lightly to your back, steering you over to a sofa. As you sunk into it with relief, the blond man sat across from you, tilting his head to catch your eye.

“I’m Hope,” he smiled, “I’m glad we found you. You’ll be right in no time!”

Frowning, you couldn’t help but notice his eyes flicking over the damage on your face. Averting your gaze, you chewed your lip absently.

What did he mean? I’m glad we found you…

Had they been looking for you? You still weren’t sure if it was a lucky coincidence they found you, but perhaps it was something more.

The lingering ache in your head forced you to push the issue away. You missed Namjoon’s stern look at Hoseok as he hovered behind your seat.

Jin pulled a pack from a cupboard and set it beside you. You let him lift your arm and unwrap the burn, your unfocussed eyes dragging across the room while he applied something cold over it. Next came stinging, scattered over your face as he wiped at the small cuts and grazes with an apologetic grimace you barely saw.

You only forced the world back into focus when someone else entered your sight. Emerging from behind you, a gentle, friendly smile was directed your way from a man with pale pink hair. Swallowing, you never managed to smile back before he was turning away.

The pink-haired man reached a hand out to someone you couldn’t see. Another man appeared, walking towards him, but he never looked at you. Or if he did, it was obscured behind the black hair that fell to his eyes.

The two new people left towards the kitchen, though not without another smile from the pink one.

Who were all these people?

Frowning after them, you were interrupted by a clap on the shoulder from Jin.

“We’ll talk more in the morning. You need to rest.”

Looking around, you had half a mind to protest, but were overruled by the shakiness taking over your frame. Body too fatigued to allow you much say, you meekly followed Jin.

Beyond the living space, a thinner corridor led away, several closed doors along its walls.

Further you went, until a door just ahead opened. Another person walked out.

When he stopped to face you, his posture remained stiff. Tall and muscular, he was clad all in black except for a towel slung over his shoulder. Damp hair fell messily around his head. But you had little time to take this in, as his eyes fixed themselves fiercely on yours, rendering you unable to look away.

Mouth remaining in a hard line, his expression only twitched further into a frown.

Then his gaze flicked abruptly away, travelling to Jin just beyond you.

“Kook-“

Jin never got further than that before the man strode forwards, marching sharply past you and away with a scowl. Turning after him in surprise, you watched his tense shoulders disappear behind Namjoon, who you hadn’t noticed hovering.

Namjoon stared sternly after him, but the man seemed to avoid his gaze.

Jin sighed, sending an apologetic glance at you.

“That’s just Jungkook,” Namjoon spoke, ushering you all further along the hallway, “don’t pay him any attention.”

“Why was…”

You trailed off, unsure of what exactly to ask. Neither of them made an attempt to answer.

You had no idea a wordless encounter could leech so much hostility into the atmosphere. Picturing Jungkook’s glowering face, you blindly followed the others through a different door.

“You can sleep in here.”

“Hm?”

Shaking yourself, you looked around the new room. There wasn’t much to see. Beside a low bed, there was a mirror, a wooden closet and nothing more. Looking up, you didn’t even find a light in the ceiling. The only light leaked through from the hallway.

Clearly reading your gaping mouth and furrowing brow, Namjoon moved in front of you.

“Don’t worry, this is just a place to sleep, nothing more. But since you’re going to have to take those gloves off, we can’t have you in a space with any electricals.”

Stepping back defensively, your fingers pressed tightly together. Having the gloves on had let you almost imagine that nothing life-changing had happened. Like gaining unpredictable powers, for instance.

Namjoon watched patiently, holding out a hand.

“You don’t need them…”

He realised he had never asked your name, and let his sentence trail expectantly. Telling him your name, he relaxed into a smile.

“You don’t need them, Y/N,” he repeated, not that you believed him for a second, “you’ll be perfectly safe. And so will we.”

Only the yearning to collapse onto the bed persuaded you to hand over the gloves. The instant they were in his hand, you swore you could feel a shock go up your arm. Immediately tense again, your breathing became shallower, with no idea how to try and stop power shooting from your hands any moment.

But Namjoon and Jin seemed content. Before you could gather your thoughts, they had left, closing the door and drenching your room in near total darkness.

Stumbling to the bed and virtually falling into it, you wiped sweating palms against the fabric. Your mouth was dry with fear.

This couldn’t have happened.

Alone for the first time since your initial panic, it didn’t take long for your mind to wrap itself in circles again. Only hours ago, you had been sitting happily in your bright office, going through the motions…

One split-second decision from a powerful man had changed that.

You knew full well he had intended for you to die. But he was Bolt...

He had probably forgotten about it already. The guard he sent lifeless to the floor, the secretary he threw from the building.

Itching feeling returning, you swallowed desperately and raised your hands. Sure enough, against the darkness, blue pierced your vision, darting its way up-

Turning your face away, you flinched as the outburst came. Your eyes screwed shut, you pressed your cheek into fabric, not wanting to see the deathly lightning that shot through the room. Shuddering breaths broke into your lungs when at last it subsided.

Letting them fall, limp, to your sides, your hands fisted the covers tightly.

You were almost afraid to open your eyes, knowing it would only show you the empty room, confirmation that this was real. You were dangerous, shut in a safe room where you could hurt no one. Would you ever get out? Succeed in controlling this, like Namjoon had said?

With no idea where you were, barely any idea who the people here were, you wanted to block it out. But even with your eyes closed, you couldn’t escape.

The memory of Jungkook’s suspicious face made your heart sink. Perhaps people should be afraid of you, now. As much as you may want to, there was no getting away from this.

Pushing yourself to sit, you surveyed the room. Eyes accustomed to the blackness a little more, you could make out vague shapes. Your breath fell alone in the silence. This really was the safest place you could be right now, even if it was a nightmare.

As your head turned, you suddenly came level with your eyes in the mirror, and a shock of light.

For an extended moment, you could only stare.

Then all at once you were rushing forwards, tripping from the end of the bed. Bracing your arms against the wall either side of the mirror, you gaped at your reflection.

As you watched, an angular bolt of blue shot across your irises, which were already dimly glowing.

You gulped against the thick feeling crawling up your throat. Faced with this, you could no longer have any hope of denying it.

This was really happening.

Thank you for reading!! Please please let me know your thoughts on this chapter, comments make it all worthwhile!💜💜

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vermithorn · 1 year

Text

* DISSOLVE

pairing: cregan stark x targaryen!reader

summary: an unexpected visitor arrives at winterfell, cregan is surprised to say the least.

contains: 18+, fingering, p in v, afab!reader, she/her pronouns, biting(?) marking(?), masturbation, asks about consent all the way becasue thats cregan ok.

author's note: i was horny in class, you cant relate to my struggle as i wrote this. my comeback and its cregan because i dream about this man and i need him carnally... also pls forgive any mistakes yall know my first language its spanish so don't be mean and leave feedback if you liked it !! pls reblog !!! !!!!!!! also totally inspired by mi amor @fairysluna fic about targ!reader x cregan yall pls read it its GOD TIER. ok bye now pls enjoy !

Winterfell was.. nice.

Your dragon, The Bronze Fury, wasn't fond of the snowy wasteland you commanded him to fly on. He grumbled as he landed near the northern capital, clouds of smoke coming out of his nostrils as he let you dismount him carefully, as much as he hated the north, he couldn't be mad at his rider.

You petted Vemithor’s snout, his red eyes intently watching you and allowing it, because after all, you were his little human. “Obey, stay here.” Vermithor roared, complaining in his own way, you just laughed and waved him off as you made your way to the castle.

“Warden Stark, this is a matter of great urgency…”

Cregan stopped himself from rolling his eyes at the request of the Umber patriarch, a much older man who was filled with jealousy because Cregan was the Warden of the North and he wasn't, always mentioning it to the great council that was held once a month in the northern capital.

“My lord,” Cregan sighed, “I do not have time for this right now, you had your time for requesting when we were six hours in the council meeting earlier today.”

Lord Umber was about to speak again, smoke coming out his ears but was interrupted by the door of the Great Hall opening, a servant of the castle stepping in and announcing loudly;

“Princess Y/N Targaryen,” Cregan’s head snapped towards the doors, taking in the sight of you entering the Great Hall.

You were bundled up in heavy clothing to protect against the cold weather, wearing a thick fur-lined cloak over a long (but tight?) black dress with red accents, with the three-headed dragon sigil embroidered on your chest.

“Lord Umber, return to this conversation later,” Lord Umber's grumbles could be heard as he walked out quickly after bowing to you, leaving the two of you alone in the Great Hall.

As you walked towards Cregan, he could feel a blush starting on his cheeks.

“My lady.”

Cregan noticed a glint of amusement in your eyes as you spoke, it was almost a purr.

“Lord Cregan,” You raised an eyebrow, smirking, “I am not your lady, I am your princess.”

Cregan’s face turned redder, looking down for a second as if ashamed. “You are right, my princess. I have never before seen the princess of the realm and I was momentarily taken aback, forgetting your station,” He gulped, “I ask for your forgiveness, your highness.”

You chuckled, delighted. “Do not worry, my lord, we all make mistakes.”

He looked at you in awe, he never had seen a woman as beautiful as you, especially in this land of wolves. He felt like he was being pulled towards you as if he was a moth and you were the flame, taking steps towards you.

“Nice meeting you, Warden Stark.” You could tell he was nervous, hiding his shaky hands behind his back, standing straight.

He nodded, almost a bow, “What’s the Princess of Dragonstone doing in Winterfell if I may ask? It is rare to see a noble of the south in this frozen land, even rarer the Crown’s Princess.”

You chuckled softly, and Cregan couldn't feel more attracted to you now as he continued, “Is this an official visit? or did you just wake up with a desire to see my homeland?”

“A little of both,” Cregan raised an eyebrow at you, “I came on dragon back,”

He looks at you with a mix of awe and fear. Dragons have not been seen in the North for a long time, so the mere mention of one is enough to make him worry slightly. “Did you fly all the way here alone, princess? Or is there an entourage of guards, servants, and courtiers that I need to prepare for? I would not presume to let you see one of the great houses of the North without a proper welcoming, even if you are visiting unannounced.”

This made you giggle, and Cregan’s face kept getting warmer with each second passing. “I am alone, my lord.”

Cregan bowed, trying to hide his warm cheeks and of course, showing respect for your station and your valor for traveling alone in the frozen wastes of the North.

He straightened his back and looked into your lilac eyes, breathing softly trying to not get lost in them, “What would you wish to do here, my princess? I could arrange a meal, or a bath to warm up from the freezing weather? Or maybe you would like to talk?”

“A bath would be nice, my lord.” You gave him a wolfish grin, looking him up and down and making him gulp at the sight.

“I will have one prepared for you immediately.” Cregan walked towards the doors, calling a servant to get your bath ready as soon as possible in the guest chambers near his own, he turned around to talk to you but found you were walking around the room, intently watching the tapestries and paintings.

He watched you do this for a few minutes until a servant came back to inform him the bath was ready in the guest chambers, he came out of his trance watching you.

“My princess, the bath is ready for you,” You turned around grinning mischievously, “Is there anything else that I can do for you now? Anything at all?”

Cregan would learn a few seconds later that his words would turn against him.

“Perhaps you could join me?”

A wave of crimson washed over Cregan’s face, and you could see how your words were making sense in his head. What were you trying on him? Was the offer even real or just teasing on your part? He watched you with his jaw slightly dropped trying to think of a proper answer for you, the temptation was certainly great… to see a princess like that, to see you all bare, he could feel himself getting harder at the thought of your naked body, but… what will others think? You came to Winterfell alone, what could happen if others find out he was in your chambers all alone? The temptation was too great to resist it.

“Is this something you truly want, your highness?” Cregan swallowed, taking another step toward you, “Or am I being an object of teasing?”

You grinned widely, taking a step to meet him halfway putting a hand on his wide chest, “My lord, you know how stunning you are?”

Cregan couldn't spit the words out, too occupied focusing on the hand on his chest.

“I am very thankful for your hospitality, my lord,” His gaze fell into your wolfish grin and intense stare, “So I am extending an invitation of my own if you want it.”

Cregan found himself in your chambers, mad at himself for his weak resolve against the Targaryen temptress.

But all those feelings went away the moment you locked the door after entering the room behind him.

The bathtub in the middle of the room was big enough for two people, that was out of the question and Cregan wondered if the servants did this on purpose. You walked towards the bed near the fireplace, taking your fur cloak off and leaving it carefully on the mattress.

“Is this room to your liking, my princess?” Cregan said, watching you subtly.

“It is,” You nodded, slowly untying your dress, “Could you help me, my lord?” You turned around, watching him over your shoulder with a playful smile. “This dress is hard to take off on my own.”

Of fucking course.

Cregan made his way over you, his rough hands carefully untying the complicated part of your dress on your back. You could feel his fingers tracing your shoulder blade, now exposed to the warm air of the room thanks to the fireplace. “I can never take this off without my lady-in-waiting’s help.” You giggled, still watching him over your shoulder.

Cregan shook his head, amused by the fact you were gonna need help to take this off in any case, thankful it was him this time. He waited for you to move first, removing his hands gently.

He took a step backward, “You may undress as you wish, my princess. It would be rude of me to stare while you are getting in and out of the tub.” You turned around to face him, your dress falling off your shoulders as he spoke, “I will keep my eyes lowered.”

Cregan’s gaze fell to the ground, his hands again behind his back, anxiously playing with his thumb.

“My lord.” You purred, “I don’t mind, you can look if you wish.”

He splutters, his gaze still glued down to the floor, shocked by your words but his traitorous eyes wander back to your figure, he gasps when he sees how your dress is no longer on your shoulders, now hanging low on your waist and your chest bare.

“M-my princess… this is not appropriate…” He exhales shakily, his eyes glued to your chest not able to look away now.

You roll your eyes, chuckling softly, “I don’t mind, my lord, I am not ashamed of my body.”

Cregan’s jaw drops, your words sending shivers to his spine, and his uniform pants getting tighter. You have the confidence of a queen and beauty to match it.

“Then allow me,” He takes a look up and down at your form as you continue to remove your garments.

“Like what you see, pup?”

Your words make Cregan freeze on his spot near the bathtub, his eyes roaming crazily over your body, now fully bare to him. You walk towards him, stepping slowly on the hot water until it’s reaching your thighs.

“Words cannot describe what I’m feeling, your highness.” He exhales shakily, “I am merely a northern wolf awed by a dragon’s beauty and power.”

You chuckle, sitting down on the tub, the water reaching your breasts, “You flatter me, pup.”

He looks at you stunned, you seem unbothered by the scalding hot water as you sit looking at him expectantly. He has no words to describe what’s going on inside his head, the Crown’s Princess is bathing in front of the Warden of the North as if there were no one else in the world, he's only able to stare at you in awe, his eyes shining with a glint of lust.

He stumbles on his next words, “W-what should I do now, your highness?”

“Join me.”

He only can nod and starts to remove his clothes immediately, showing no humility or shame at being naked in front of the princess, your confident self giving him confidence.

He realizes what he's about to do, “You’re not offended by my nakedness?”

You raise an eyebrow at him, amused, “Why would I be offended? You’re beautiful.”

Men are rarely complimented by their beauty, something Cregan doesn't experience as much, and you can tell this by the way his face lits up and blushes hard, turning away from your amused gaze and feeling slightly bashful.

He takes a deep breath and steps into the bathtub, the water is almost too hot for his liking but he seats behind you without any complaints. He is facing your back and he has to stop himself from reaching out and touching you.

“Shall I wash you, my princess? Or shall I merely enjoy the view?” The moments those words left his mouth his face was plagued by a crimson blush, not believing that he could mutter that out loud.

He heard you chuckle, turning your head to the side but not all the way so he could appreciate your side profile as you spoke, “Whatever you want,”

He scooted closer to you, keeping all his lower body and his not-that-hard (a lie) cock away from your ass. Still half in disbelief, the princess herself telling him to do whatever he wanted? He was an ambitious man, but started on the base of his wants, not wanting to scare you off. He reach out and ran his hands through your white hair, slowly washing it and once in a while touching your neck.

Your skin felt impossibly soft in his rough palms, and your scent was enough to send him far far away. He felt his heart racing, threatening with escaping his rib cage, he couldn’t believe you were there in front of him, a Targaryen princess, naked and inviting.

As he softly caresses your neck, you throw your head back enjoying the feeling of him touching your skin. His hands softly untangle your wet hair, and it surprises him when you let out a low moan when he accidentally pulled your hair.

“Oh,” Cregan could feel the heat rising to his face, and of course, his cock twitching.

Being this close to you was making him lose all his composure, but he did his best as his hands traveled to your shoulders from your hair, massaging them gently as you nudged back, encouraging him to continue.

“Shall… shall I move further down, my princess?”

He could physically feel your laugh against his hands, sending shivers down his spine.

“Yes.”

His hands moved along your shoulders, past your neck, and down to your upper back softly touching and caressing the path downwards your back. He can hear you sigh quietly, his hands coming back to your shoulder blades and slowly moving to your sides, just below your arms, both of his index fingers just barely brushing your breasts.

He stops, his hands still. “May I, your highness? I would never want to do something without your consent.”

You turn your head over your shoulder, watching him from the corner of your eye. “Go on, pup.”

His hands reach your chest, and he scoots closer, his (now) hard cock a few inches away from your ass. He warily cups your breasts, squeezing them gently as his fingers pinch your nipples, making them pebble.

You let out a whimper, shivering at the touch of his rough and big hands on your tits.

“Does this... please you, your highness? My hands on your perfect skin?” He cannot stop himself now, words spilling out his mouth as they didn’t before, his hands wandering around and playing with your chest.

“Yes, you’re doing such a good job, pup.” He blushes deeply but doesn't stop.

He’s still in disbelief, not entirely believing the situation happening in front of his eyes. The princess of Dragonstone telling him how good he's being for her? It is too much to comprehend, you’re so above him in any situation, but there you are, praising and wanting him to touch you.

“You want me to continue, my princess?”

You nod, “Go further,”

His heart starts to pound harder in his chest, like a war drum, but he continues to do as you say. One hand stays playing with your breast, stroking your nipple, and the other travels downwards through your belly.

“Like this?” He whispers in your ear, and you can feel his hot breath on the back of your neck.

You surprise him again by scooting back, your ass against his hardened length, he gasps, the plump of your ass touching his cock making him lose his vision for a second, not expecting it at all.

“Just like that,” Your words send chills down his spine, is he really about to do this with a princess? Is he really worthy of that? He swallows deeply, his mouth now dry, but his mind is made up. He wants you, and if you’re allowing him to do this, he won't complain at all.

“As you wish, my princess. How far would you like me to continue?”

“As far as you wish, pup.”

Your words leave him breathless, but he obliges.

Cregan’s hand on your belly travels further down, carefully to not overstep your boundaries but decided to resume his wandering on your body as his cock presses against your ass. His eyes are glued to the back of your neck, his touch is hesitant at first but your permission makes him feel bold, so he presses his one hand down further and the other squeezes your breast.

“Go on, pup,” You whisper, leaning your head back and resting it on his shoulder as his mouth grazes your neck towards your throat, breathing heavily, “You know what to do.”

He chuckles, but it comes out as a shaky breath. He knows exactly what to do.

His fingers slowly make their way down to your cunt, two digits slowly reaching your clit hovering over it, and moving down to your folds, feeling how you shiver.

You exhale shakily, leaning even more against his body, “Please.”

Cregan’s resolve breaks, blushing as he continues his ministrations, teasing your clit with his palm and fingers grazing your folds, rubbing them.

He’s so immersed in his teasing he doesn't notice when your soft hand grabs his, pushing it down towards your pussy hard. “I don’t like being teased, do your work.”

Your words drive him into a frenzy, immediately obeying and pushing two fingers into your cunt, hearing you moan. His hand on your breast leaves to support what the other one is doing, moving his fingers in a circular motion on your clit as the other fingers you.

You throw your head back into his shoulder harshly, groaning. “Don’t stop, pup.”

Cregan grinds himself against your ass as he thrusts into you, fingers deep into your pussy. Your breath starts to get labored and your shoulders begin to shake, he starts going faster, more vigorously as he hears your little whimpers with his name mixed into your chants.

“You’re doing so good for me, pup,” He grins proudly, his cock twitching at the breathy praise that falls from your lips, grinding harder against your ass.

Cregan makes you reach your peak after he pinches your clit and his long rough fingers thrust into you, shaking slightly as he holds you in place.

He’s still rock hard against your ass, and after a few moments to come back to yourself, you turn around to face him, your tits against his chest as you straddle his lap, not caring at all how the water splashes outside the tub.

Cregan’s cock is a sight, long and with a thickness it makes your mouth water. He watches you as you move around him until you grab his shaft making his dick brush your folds as you accommodate, the tip teasing on your hole.

“I want you, do you want me?”

He thinks that’s the dumbest question he's ever heard in his twenty-one years of life.

“Hell yes, my princess.”

You give him a wolfish grin as you sink into his length mercilessly in one go, your tight hole wrapping his cock in a warm embrace he can only answer by groaning loudly, his hands flying to your hips to help you steady yourself.

“You’re so tight, seven hells… my goddess, you’re so beautiful.” Your mouth parted at the sensation of his cock splitting you in two, combined with his praise, it’s enough encouragement to start riding him, water splashing everywhere.

His voice starts coming out as incoherences, between praises and swearing on how tight you are, and how your cunt was made for him, his mouth latching at your breast biting it and marking the sides when he can no longer say coherent words. You ride him hard and roughly, so it’s not a surprise when he spills inside your pussy and you follow him behind quickly with a second orgasm when he moves his hand down to rub your clit.

He hugs you as you both breathe heavily, trying to compose yourselves.

Your hand reaches his face, cupping his cheek as he looks into your lilac eyes like a puppy.

“You did so well, you’re not getting rid of me now.”

He beams at the praise, hugging you tightly, pressing your body against his with him still inside you, getting softer. “It is my pleasure to please you, my princess.”

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