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atrwriting · 6 months

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trust me -- billy the kid x barowner!reader

hi everyone :) sorry I've been MIA — law school has been kicking my #ass but it's ok. I saw the new thg movie and while IAMNOTACORIOSNOWSTAN but I am a t*m bl*th and the man was so fine in this show. so fine. I've only seen like three fics for this man (maybe I just don't know how to search correctly thats probably my fault) but I was SEARCHING FOREVER and then I just got pissed because I couldn't find any so I wrote almost eight thousand words for this man that is how down bad I was

informal warnings: me. 1) I should be put on a leash 2) I use italics way too much 3) and whatever the fuck this "—" is 4) will i ever give up the female bar owner trope 5) will I ever stop tho? [vanilla ice voice] no, I don't know

as always, the actual warnings: smutty smut smut SMUT!, unprotected sex (1880's bby but you still gotta wrap it before you tap it), violence, guns, bit of gore but like the tiniest bit, virgin!reader, p in v sex, oral sex, bit of a dom!billy, bit of a bratty!sub!reader, overstimulation what can I say I should be put on a leash

anyway.... here's trust me:

when your father died… it was hard to be sad. he wasn’t very kind and he never seemed to like you very much… but in his will, being his only surviving kin, he left you money.

a lot of it.

and an old building.

the town it resided in was convenient in the way that many people that were passing through had to stop there. so what did you do? well, the only thing you could do — turn it into a restaurant and boarding house.

the money he left behind was used to fix up the place and pay your employees.

within a few weeks time, your place was up and running with very little vacancy. families and important people were always in your bar or comfortably in their rooms. never had you ever thought someone could be as lucky as you.

until one day. that day.

you worked alongside your employees but flipped between positions. sometimes you were a hostess, ran the front desk, a bartender, or anything else that needed tending to. in response, many people did not know you were the owner — and, therefore, some people treated you like you weren’t.

mainly gross old men, which you could handle. however, when a young, strong, and tall man challenged you?

that was dangerous. too dangerous.

even a fake wedding ring didn’t steer them away.

on that day, a young blacksmith had found his way into your bar. he was handsy with you much of the night, and you tried your best to steer him away. it wasn’t until you pulled a knife on him that he finally let up. it didn’t look like anyone saw, but still — you were scared and worried. would people think you classless, for pulling a knife on a patron? would they see you as weak? would they notice that the alcohol you served brought in too rowdy of a crowd? would they stop venturing in?

you thought no one noticed, and tried to convince yourself of that fact — but you were wrong.

when you were closing for the night, mostly everyone had left. a small group of men usually stayed until close — and you didn’t mind. they drank well, paid their tab, and were mostly quiet and polite. you didn’t know any of their names — but it was usually bad when you did know a patron’s name, so you liked them.

you had your back turned to the front of the bar, stacking bottles, when someone cleared their throat from behind you.

“ma’am?”

you turned around.

a tall, fair skinned man with a hat stood before you. his clothes were old and worn, and his fingernails reflected that he was a hard worker during the day. that type of exhaustion was also reflected in his eyes.

but, damn... his face? no one could deny that that man was handsome.

you smiled. “another drink, sir?”

“no. thank you.” he paused for a moment, keeping your gaze. “i wanted to check if you were alright.”

you immediately knew what he was talking about, but kept your face stoic. “yes, sir, thank you.”

he looked like he wanted to say something, but struggled with how to word it. “he usually a problem?”

you clenched your jaw. “he’s… he’s fine. too much drink, ‘s’all. gets the best of working men. can’t blame ‘em.” you swallowed, trying to keep your anxiety at bay. who was this man and why did he care? was he a friend of the man? “you sure there’s nothing i can’t get for you?”

“some wouldn't blame ‘em.” he ignored your question. his bright blue eyes held your gaze. “i would.”

you forced a tight lipped smile. with a laugh, you joked, “i’ll… be fine, sir. thank you. thought a fake wedding ring would do the trick… gotta think of something else now.”

he smiled, but in a sad way. “i was going to ask if your husband ever checked in on the place.”

“no husband,” you affirmed with a sigh. you introduced yourself, and then asked, “what’s your name?”

“william h. bonney, ma’am… but you can call me billy.”

“nice to meet you, billy,” you smiled. “and, please — don’t call me ma’am.”

“alright.” he returned your smile. “the men behind me… we run a sort of — security detail for part time work. if you ever wanted to hire us, we could have a man here when we can spare.”

you nodded, contemplating your offer. he explained the per diem, and you immediately agreed.

“if your man can keep this place safe with little bloodshed, i’ll even throw in a free bottle a day,” you countered.

and that was how your business with billy the kid and his men began.

the men that came along were usually polite and quiet, and mostly stayed at the edge of the bar. they watched for problems, and slowly but surely your fear had begun to subside. there was a minor scuffle one day, where a man had cracked a glass and cut you with it… but billy’s man had stopped him before he could do anything else. you didn’t hold it against billy’s guy — you cared about your business and if the business got bloody, not so much yourself.

billy, on the other hand… did not agree.

one day, bright and early, he parked himself at the middle of the bar where you stood behind the counter.

“rarely see you for detail,” you smiled, wiping down a glass. “much less this early. breakfast, mr. bonney?”

“billy, ma’am,” he responded. “breakfast does sound fine.”

you laughed. “i hate when you call me ma’am.”

“don’t much like it when you call me mister,” he quirked an eyebrow. billy was a rather emotionless and hard man, but you could tell he was joking.

you laughed again. “steak and eggs for billy, coming right up.”

the rest of the day went on peacefully, and you kept billy’s glass full. he was quiet and didn’t talk much, which you weren’t too keen about. he was mysterious, tall, dark and handsome — which was usually a bad combination. you knew it was, and you should’ve cared — but you didn’t.

as you were filling billy’s glass into the later hours of the afternoon, you finally bucked up the courage to ask him a question.

“so why did you stop in today?” you asked. “not that i mind. i just have only seen you when you come in at night.”

“we made a deal, sweetheart,” he responded. your eyes perked up at the nickname. you didn’t hate the nickname — but you hated yourself a wee bit for how much you liked hearing billy call you it. “the man i sent here was supposed to make sure he kept you from harm — he didn’t hold up his end on the deal.”

“it was kept quiet from the other patrons,” you responded. “that’s all i really care about. i’m a woman in the restaurant and boardinghouse business — stuff like that is bound to happen. no need to be hard on him.”

“you keep my men’s glasses too full for them to let slip ups like that happen,” he replied. “he knew better. should've acted better.”

“you’re the boss, billy,” you sighed with a smile. “i’m just the bartender.”

“damn good bartender at that,” he spoke. “too good.”

you giggled, and grew ashamed rather quickly at how much you enjoyed his company. you didn’t know him well, no… but damn, was it nice to have him around.

the rest of the night was rather quiet. a few families had stepped in and out, and a few meetings were being held where the tables sat. that was until the blacksmith that started this whole thing came in and sat himself only a stool away from billy.

you threw a look at billy, but he didn’t meet your eyes. his peripheral vision was already on the man. billy remembered him, and you couldn’t say fondly.

“whiskey, sweetheart,” he grunted. “leave the bottle.”

you sighed. a quiet day was going to turn into a rough night in a matter of a few moments.

“mr. martin, i can’t leave the bottle unless you settle your tab from the nights prior,” you answered. “i can get you a double and add it on, though, if that’s alright with you?”

“that’s not alright with me, girl,” he grunted again, glaring you down. “leave the damn bottle!”

you stood your ground. “there’s a bar across the street, mr. martin.”

“you don’t want my business, that it, sweetheart?”

“not much business if you don’t pay," you quipped.

through gritted teeth, he spat, “leave. the damn. bottle.”

“pay. the. tab.”

he went to catch you by the arm, but you were too quick. you anticipated his antics this time. you snatched an empty bottle, and broke the base of it in the sink. you put the broken, jagged edge of the neck of the bottle in between the two of you. your eyes were wild — you could feel it, and both men could definitely see it. startled, he drew back.

“this is the only bottle you’re getting with that attitude.”

that was when billy stood up and walked towards the man. the thuds of his boots, though few considering the short distance, were deafening in the mostly silent bar. you may have had a makeshift weapon, but billy? billy the kid? everyone knew what he had on him.

“time for you to leave, friend.”

the man laughed. “friend? who’s my friend to tell me when i need to leave?”

“the one who’s a quicker draw than you, that's who." his answer was slow and cool — too calm, which only made the shiver of a threat run up and down your spine faster.

the man, all talk, clenched his jaw as he stared at billy. he slapped the tab money on the top of the bar, and walked out.

you didn’t let out a sigh of relief until the man left.

but billy was the one that spoke first. “was going to step in immediately… but you held your own. they need to respect you before they’re scared of me.”

you laughed. “little does he know i’m all talk as well.”

“with that bottle?” he chuckled. “sweetheart, even i was scared.”

“you threatened him with a gun… i don’t think anything scares you, billy,” you asked. “thank you for stepping in.”

“‘s my job.”

“i know… but still,” you spoke.

you were continuing to close before he spoke again.

“what made you want to start this place?” he asked.

“my father passed a few moons before i opened this place,” you responded. “no parents, no husband — thought i might try this out.”

“my ma wanted to start a place like this,” he replied. “never got the chance.”

you nodded with a sad smile. “didn’t know her… but i think she’d be proud of how you handled that. don’t think he’ll be much trouble anymore.”

“she’d think i’m trouble with how full the lovely bartender keeps my glass,” he spoke, but looked like he instantly regretted it. “my apologies, i shouldn’t’ve — the whiskey —“

“you’re fine,” you laughed, your blush pinching your cheeks. as you walked away, you threw over your shoulder, “hopefully your ma wouldn’t mind that i keep her son’s glass full for his good work… nor that i think her son’s handsome.”

from that day forward, billy was always the man who sat at your bar.

he always greeted and made pleasant conversation with you, and glared at any man that got too aggressive with you. if looks could kill… billy would never need what he held in his holster.

you’d giggle to yourself after the creepy men would walk away. you’d never know… but when billy would hear your giggle afterwards, he’d smile, too.

but he kept that to himself.

however, slowly… he was becoming more comfortable with your company.

“so why didn’t you marry?” he one day asked randomly.

you were wiping down a glass when you got lost in the thought. “when there’s a nice one that’s interested… maybe. haven’t already because there aren’t very many nice ones. it was very convenient when you started keeping the bad ones away.”

to your dismay, he didn’t say anything in response.

but you had gotten comfortable with his company, too. too comfortable.

“and why isn’t there a mrs. bonney, billy?”

“she’d get jealous about how much time i spend with you,” he responded.

there was very little emotion in his voice, and you were afraid of reading into what he was saying. was he returning your flirtations? was he telling you that you were a drag? to answer your own question, you jokingly said, “well if i’m too much trouble, mr. bonney, you are more than welcome to have another one of your men step in.”

“well, ma’am —“ he began. “then i’d get jealous of how much time they were spending with you.”

you couldn’t hide the blush that rose into your cheeks. billy looked upon your face with a small smile tugging at his lips, and his gaze didn’t waver.

“keep talking like that, billy, and i’ll become trouble for you,” you raised an eyebrow at him.

“can’t say i’d mind much,” he responded, taking a sip of his glass, but holding eye contact with you.

if you weren’t frozen, you would’ve pulled yourself over the bar right then and then and planted yourself in his lap. you would’ve flung his glass to the floor, and wouldn’t have cleaned it up until you had kissed every inch of that man. you would’ve responded, but you couldn’t...

that was when billy’s men had stepped into the bar.

the air immediately darkened. the blonde one, named jesse, had led the pack as they stalked in. billy immediately flipped around to see what the problem was.

“sweetheart, give us a minute,” billy asked, calling over his shoulder.

billy never gave you orders, let alone in your own bar. however, if he was asking you to… you figured you should probably listen. you left the bar and went into the back. most of your employees had left for the night, so you helped the remaining ones clean up. it would be a few minutes or so before billy had come back into the kitchen to find you. you went back into the bar with him.

“i’ll be back before you close,” he spoke. “lock the doors.”

a second order. something he never did in the first place. something was wrong. you didn’t pry… you just scrunched your eyebrows in response.

“something’s up,” he spoke. he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek before he turned to leave. “i’m takin’ care of it.”

there you stood, absolutely stunned. billy and his men left the bar with haste and didn’t look back. you, on the other hand, stood frozen… unable to leave the spot where you had billy the kid, known for his deadly skills, kiss you on the cheek.

you finally moved, reluctantly, but only to close up.

it would be close to an hour before billy finally came back. a few of his friends came with him, and they dragged in a man on their shoulder who was grunting in pain. blood was pouring from his leg, and you immediately went for the medical supplies you kept hidden under the counter. you grabbed two bottles of whiskey for good measure, arguably also a part of your makeshift kit.

“put him down on the table,” you gushed. his men were stunned to see you hustling, but they didn’t hesitate to rest their friend. you immediately took a look at the man’s leg, and were thankful to see that there would be no permanent damage. you shoved a bottle at jesse, and stated, “make him drink this.”

jesse had unscrewed the bottle and helped his friend drink before you fished out the bullet. thankfully no arteries were punctured, but it would be some time before he was good again. you cleaned up the man the best you could, and asked if any of the men needed anything.

“no, ma’am…” jesse responded. “we were going to bring him here and do it ourselves, your place was closest… so thank you.”

you smiled at him. “take the bottles. need it more than me.”

he tipped his hat to you.

“jesse,” billy began. “you and the boys head home.”

without question, jesse nodded. they helped their friend to his feet and left with a goodbye. even though they left, the unsettling feeling of the room hadn’t changed. billy seemed… different. heavier. he wasn’t the same man that had kissed you on the cheek before he had left.

you turned to him. “i won’t pry, but —“

“good,” he spat, turning to you. billy’s eyes bore into yours like you were one of the problem men at your bar. “don’t.”

a look of hurt flashed across your face. you could feel it. “you’re looking at me like i did something.”

“i told you to lock the door,” he spat again, his look of anger unwavering.

you had only seen billy's eyes that wide and that angry when there was someone being cruel to you. the thought made you shiver.

“how would you have gotten back in?” you asked.

“knocked,” he bit.

you narrowed your eyes at his curt response. “i had a feeling something was wrong. if i had waited to unlock, i couldn’t have gotten that bullet out as fast as i did.”

“doesn’t matter,” he bit. “how am i supposed to keep you safe if you won’t listen to me?”

you scrunched your brows together in confusion. “billy… whatever happened where you were, it wasn’t here. i could’ve gone to bed… but i stayed up. waiting for you.”

“and what if someone came in, huh? what then?” he hollered. “what would you have done then?! what would i have done if you had gotten hurt?”

you shook your head in disbelief. you couldn’t believe billy was speaking to you with such disdain. “with the way you’re talking to me, billy — sounds like you’re used to women who don’t pull knives on creepy men, hold broke bottles to their necks — or fish bullets out of legs when i don’t know why he was shot in the first place. you’re used to those kind of women, and have a problem with me? maybe you should go back to them.”

you immediately turned away from him, beginning to walk towards the bar. billy was hot on your heels when he reached out to grab your wrist and turned you around.

he grabbed both sides of your face and pressed his lips to yours.

you wanted to scream at him, throw fists at his chest, push him away — anything to let you know how he hurt you, how he wronged you... but you couldn't.

no. you couldn't.

you were so stunned you stood frozen in place as his lips moved against yours. you loosely held his wrists in your hands, and kissed him back.

“don’t want those girls, darlin’,” he spoke, breathless, in between kisses. “knew you were a real woman the first time i saw you. the kind that puts the fear of god into you, but looks at you with such a sweetness in her eyes that you can’t look away.”

“better believe it, bonney,” you spat, half joking. “you’ve seen how quick i am.”

“i know, darlin’, i know,” he whispered, kissing you once more. “i also know i was wrong to speak to you the way i did.”

“shut your damn mouth and kiss me,” you replied, pulling him closer to you.

“yes, ma’am,” he playfully responded, and you slapped his shoulder.

billy had backed you up against the wall and pressed his body towards yours. you stood on your toes to reach him, and even then he had to lean down a foot or two.

“billy…” you began, pulling away. “i’ve never… but if you wouldn’t think less of me, we could go upstairs. to my room.”

“i’d never think less of you,” he spoke, shaking off your comment. “but… what’d’ya mean, ‘never?’”

“i’ve never been with a man, billy,” you responded, suddenly embarrassed.

he was quiet for a moment, before stating, “you sure you want it to be with me?”

you nodded. “if… if you want to, that is.”

he didn’t respond to your statement, he just kissed you. he kissed you with every emotion you didn’t think he ever possessed — raw, hot, desperate emotion that held you close and tight to him. the heat and the intensity made your brain swim, but you could only care so much when billy the fucking kid wanted you.

he slipped an arm around your shoulders and then underneath your knees before he picked you up. you bit back a squeal before you threw your arms around his neck.

“light as a feather, sweetheart, don’t you worry,” he spoke.

“all that steak i been feeding you?” you joked.

“my belt can’t help it if my woman feeds me well,” he replied, almost at the top of the stairs.

“you’re a flirt,” you giggled.

you pointed him towards your room. once in, he laid you down on the bed and laid on top of you. his body was warm and sturdy over yours, and you couldn’t help but feel warm. his hips were pressed against yours, but you couldn’t feel him through your dress. you grew frustrated at the thought.

you made quick work to undue his shirt, and billy was quick to catch on. he pulled away to take off his shirt, and you tried to take off your corset with his help.

“damn death trap,” he spat, fussing.

you giggled. he was cute when he was flustered, but nothing compared to the way he was looking hungrily down at you. you were completely bare before him, and you should’ve been embarrassed… but shame wasn’t present in this moment. the only thing you registered was how billy looked down at you — with adoration in his eyes as they raked down your naked form.

“will you…” you began. “will you show me… how to please… you?”

“another time, sweetheart,” he spoke, stealing a quick kiss from you. “i need my head between those legs of yours.”

“you-you don’t have to —“ you spoke. “i know that’s not something — that boys —“

“yeah — boys.” billy snapped, glaring at you. “real men want to taste their women.”

that shut you right up.

billy wedged himself in between your thighs and spread your folds. it caused a sharp intake of breath on your part, but you didn’t realize what you were in for. billy flattened his tongue, and licked a long stripe up your slit. your teeth sank into your lip at the foreign feeling that cause so much warmth to make your veins twitch.

…but when billy’s nose had nudged a specific spot at the top of your slit — your legs jerked.

“what — what —“ you stammered.

“shh,” billy cooed, slightly laughing. “i forgot how sensitive you were. my apologies, sweetheart.”

you trusted billy, sure, but you had never felt anything like that before in your life. the jerking motion of your legs was involuntary and made you fearful. billy could see the fear written on your face.

“that spot that i touched, that you felt?” he asked.

his eyes were so wide and meaningful you felt like you could melt in them. you brought yourself up to your elbows and hummed in acknowledgement.

“that is the most sensitive part of a woman, and if i play it just right —“ ever so lightly, you felt his middle finger and ring finger touch the spot. you shivered at the feeling, but you didn’t flinch like last time. you held his gaze as the warmth began to spread inside you. “i can make you feel better than you’ve ever felt.”

billy bent over your body and held himself up with extended arm planted firmly by your side. he swiped the two fingers over his tongue to lubricate them, and brought them right back to where they were. you both watched his fingers play at the most sensitive part of you, and your lip began to quiver.

“look at me, sweetheart.”

your eyes glanced back up to him.

like you thought before, if angry looks could kill… anyone would die by just a look from billy the kid. however, what would they say about the way he’s looking at you now? with his plump lips parted, and his eyes wild and hungry? you didn't know... but you knew you would find out.

“y’trust me?” he asked.

you hummed in agreement, nodding.

“say it.”

you sharply inhaled, caught off guard by his order. “yes, billy — i trust you.”

instead of leaning back down to plunge his face in between your thighs, he kissed you. his lips connected with yours in one of the most dominating ways you ever thought a man could. with his hand playing between your thighs, he swallowed every moan and cry you struggled to keep hidden inside of you. billy was breathing hard against you — relishing in how it felt to have you so vulnerable and close to him.

that was when his fingers picked up speed.

and, god… did it feel damn good.

“b-billy,” you whimpered. “feels…”

“still trust me?”

“yes,” you cried, screwing your eyes shut. “yes, it’s just…”

he leaned his head down so his mouth was right by your ear. his breaths were hot against your ear, and you hummed at the feeling. your hand played with the curls at the nape of his neck, tugging at the roots.

“fuck — you takin’ what i’m givin’ to you, darlin’,” he rasped, then continued, “drives me insane.”

you could barely hear what he was saying, nor could you respond. your head was swimming with the weight of billy so close to your naked body, holding you down and safe, with those skilled fingers of his working you like you were a damn trigger. you were a whimpering, crying mess — and billy loved every second of it.

“something — feels —“

“d’ya want me to stop?” he asked, breathless.

“no,” you whimpered, confused how the warmth inside you felt like it was going, going, going. you didn’t know where it started, where it was going, and definitely didn’t know where it ended. you were worried that you were going to explode — but you didn’t understand. “something feels — like i’m — i’m going —“

“let it happen, sweetheart.” his kisses were wet and sloppy along the skin of your throat. he nipped at the skin, and that only sent you into more of a frenzy. “that’s right, darlin’. that’s it. trust me. i’ve got you.”

and that was it.

the thing — billy’s words, that sent you toppling over whatever metaphorical edge you could think of to describe it. it felt like white, hot sparks went off behind your closed eyelids and were going off on every nerve ending in your body. whimpers left your bitten lips like you were a babe, and your back arched off the bed. distantly, you could hear billy cooing with excitement, laughter… and praise.

a light sheen of sweat was on both of you, and billy had never looked better. his musk was wafting through the air and had completely taken over your senses. you felt like the only thing in the room was billy and the only thing in the world that mattered was billy. men got drunk off whiskey, but you? you got drunk off of that pure, unfiltered scent and look of a masculine man who showed you how to experience the pleasure of a woman you had never known.

“fuck…” you whimpered as you came down from your high. you tried pushing billy’s hand away, but you were so weak you didn’t think you could.

“sorry, darlin’,” he laughed, kissing your throat again. “got selfish. wanted to keep seeing that pretty look on your face.”

it was difficult for you to find words, let alone enough for an adequate response. “billy… that… that felt…”

“i’m gonna be trouble for you now.” he stole a kiss. “nothing better than seeing you below me, like that…”

“i want you to feel good, too,” you began. “please, billy? i wanna see you, too.”

his lips formed a tight line. “i don’t want it to hurt you.”

“first time doesn’t always hurt,” you spoke. “no one says the second time hurts.”

he smiled at that, and began to roll on top of you. you stopped him, and gestured for him to sit up against the headboard. he was hesitant at first, but he did it anyway. you hovered your hips above his before licking one of your palms and gliding it over the tip of his length. you stroked him a few times, and a soft moan left his lips at the feeling.

“i can keep going,” you spoke, throwing a sultry look up at him. “i want to make you feel good.”

“no, doll,” he rasped. “too selfish. need to see that pretty face of yours do what it does again.”

you pouted for a short moment before you lifted your hips above his length and began to sink down. you could feel a slick leaking from your folds, which made you feel better about actually getting him inside you.

“go slow,” he ordered suddenly. “you stop if it hurts, got it?”

you nodded, half ignoring him.

but it didn’t hurt.

the first inch didn’t hurt. the second didn’t. the third, the fourth, the fifth, sixth, — you lost count. billy was so big and filled you so nicely that you were so greedy with how you sank down into him. you couldn’t have cared less about what he said before about going slow — all you needed was to feel all of him completely.

“you didn’t listen —“ he grunted, slightly mad. “you’re so lucky you feel good, fuck — you’re so tight —“

“so what if i didn’t listen, mr. bonney?” you smiled coyly at him, a sudden bout of confidence coming over you. maybe it was the post orgasm glow, maybe it was the new feeling of having the most perfect man inside of you — you weren’t sure. “you feel — so good.”

“don’t get bold on me, sweetheart,” he smirked.

you didn’t listen. you picked up your pace, rocking your hips back and forth to what felt good inside of you.

billy’s cock liked that, sure — but he didn’t. you could see the mental turmoil on his face as his neglected cock was finally getting the attention it deserved, but his hothead person didn’t like that his girl was getting smart on him.

that was when billy flipped you over onto your back, much to your dismay. you liked putting on a show for him and doing all the work for a change.

“you wanna act like that, darlin’, huh?” he asked in your ear with a raspy, lust filled voice. “not gonna listen to me?”

“it just felt so good, billy, please —“ you were whining at this point, pissed he had taken away that feeling.

“oh, you’re a greedy thing, that right?” he taunted. “gets one fuckin’ taste, and now she can’t get enough?”

you shook your head, desperate for something — anything. “so greedy, baby. please, billy — please just fuck me.”

his hips snapped against you. hard.

maybe it should’ve hurt — but fucking christ, it didn’t. it felt so good to have his strong, forceful hips thrust against yours and hit that spot so deep inside of you.

“you like that?” he asked, taunting you. “that’s what my greedy girl wanted? — needed?”

his hips were relentlessly snapping against yours now as he hovered above you by holding himself up on his elbows. the sight of his broad and strong chest and shoulders… enough to make any woman weak. a firm crease was in his brow, signaling he was struggling to keep up his mean persona.

“yes — yes —“ you cried. “billy, you’re so deep — it feels — fuck, you can’t stop billy. please —“

“sweetest fuckin’ pussy,” he grunted. “squeezing me so tight.”

“right there — that’s the spot, baby,” you bit your lip to keep your voice down.

billy leaned his forehead against yours, and his exhales fanned against your face. little moans were escaping his lips as well, but nothing like yours. instead, he spat, “couldn’t let me be nice to you and fuck you sweet, huh? had to get smart on me?”

you could barely hear him. billy’s usual raspy, and commanding voice was enough to make anyone stand at attention — but now? now you were some cockdrunk whore who didn’t care how she got what she wanted, only that she did. his thrust were hard and fast, hitting a deep spot in you that was making that warmth swell up in you again.

“didn’t want sweet, billy,” you whimpered. “wanted you to use me just like this.”

you weren’t sure what came over you — and billy wasn’t sure either. his thrusts didn’t falter, but he couldn’t understand how the pretty, innocent looking bartender could be so fucking naughty — but only for him. a sense of pride had never welled up inside him like that before, knowing that he was the only one who got to see the prettiest girl in town keen for someone’s touch like this.

his touch. only his touch.

“gonna be the fuckin’ death of me,” he spat against your ear. “should’ve known you’d be such a good girl for me — taking my cock like this. can you cum around my cock like this? gonna be the best girl — and show me how that pussy tightens around me?”

the curse words billy drew from you were not your sunday best, but they made billy’s guttural groans against your throat and ear that much more enticing. you were both covered in sweat, spit, and slick — and nothing had ever felt better. you were close, so close — and all you wanted was to see him finish so you could see it for yourself.

“billy, i’m so close —“ you cried. “but i wanna —i wanna see you —“

“shhh,” he cooed. “gonna take what i give you, sweet girl.”

he sent a hand in between your bodies, and started playing with that spot that had made you explode the last time. you almost protested, but there was nothing like having a man buried so deep inside you do whatever he could to make sure you felt the best you could. you whined, you cried, you screamed, fuck — you did everything to let him know that you were close, billy, i’m so close, please, i’m begging, please don’t stop, and billy refused to look away from your beautiful face as you came undone below him once more.

with your beautiful hair fanned out around you, billy thought you looked ethereal as your second orgasm overtook you. there was something about the way your eyes fluttered softly closed, but broken gasps left your lips like you were so far gone in pleasure that you were lost in it. here, beneath him, before him, was a woman he had spent so much time protecting, so worried about her safety… all he wanted to do was make her feel good. when your limbs began to quiver, knowing you were so deep in your orgasm that you were at the peak, billy couldn’t help himself. he knew you were sensitive, he knew how it would be too much, he knew he shouldn't — but he had to. he was so, so selfish with his greedy girl.

his fingers kept spinning circles on your pink rosebud, and it was like the white light behind your eyes couldn’t stop. you were gasping for air — begging, pleading, hoping, wishing. it was so much. it was too much. it was everything and anything all at once, and you didn’t realize how far you were falling until tears leaked from your eyes.

he should've hated himself for making you feel so lost, but he didn't. not one bit.

“billy —“ you cried, shaking. “i’m so — so sensitive —“

he engulfed you into a long kiss, smiling smugly against your lips. you would’ve laughed with him, but you were so weak. so, so weak. he knew how sensitive you were, and stopped his movements completely. you didn’t realize he hadn’t finished with you until he began to pull out of you.

“billy — you didn’t —“

“s’alright, darlin’—“

“no, it’s not,” you said firmly. “teach me how to do — that thing.”

“that... thing?”

“with my mouth.”

he hesitated before shaking his head. “i don’t… tonight was a lot — for you.”

you narrowed your eyes at him. “boys don’t taste their women, right? men do?”

he scrunched his eyebrows together, confused, but nodded anyway.

“and what about real women, billy?” you asked. “you think they like leaving their men unsatisfied?”

his lips parted at a loss. he couldn’t argue with that, could he?

“sit on the edge of the bed,” you spoke, sliding out from under him and finding a place on the floor.

he hesitated, but he didn’t argue with that, either.

you tried to hide your smirk from him.

he'd never tell you he saw it. he also would never tell you he loved it.

"you gonna tell me what to do, or what, cowboy?" you smirked up at him, taunting.

he shook his head, and pursed his lips in a way that he knew you were in over your head. "you're acting bold. let's see if you got a reason to."

you narrowed your eyes at him, but smiled anyway.

you returned your attention to the muscle you were holding in yours hands. it was long and thick — you weren't sure how it fit inside you before, and you definitely weren't sure how you were going to fit it in your mouth.

"too much for you, darlin'?" he quipped.

you shot him a look. "wasn't too much a minute ago, was it?"

you didn't let him respond. you licked the palm of your hand — throwing manners to the wind — and wrapped your hand around the tip and the top of the shaft. you made circular, stroking motions at the top and licked a stripe, like he did to you, up his shaft.

that shut him up.

a long and drawn out fuuuck had left his lips.

you shouldn't've — you knew you shouldn't've.

but you did anyway.

you started to kitten lick at his balls, and you could feel him shift from above you. hot and heavy groans were leaving his lips, to the point where he was incoherent. now that you had found his sweet spot, you'd never let go. just like he didn't.

"fuck, you are naughty," he rasped, voice dry and cracked. "my naughty girl. so good f'me."

you hummed as you wrapped your lips around the skin of his balls. they were warm and salty, and you relished in the taste. billy placed a heavy palm on the back of your head. you realized then and there he was foreign to giving up control — usually you'd give in, but not now. not when he was teasing you before.

you replaced your hand with your lips, and brought him down as far as you could.

from the corner of your eye, you spotted him beginning to fist the sheets.

tears were springing to your eyes, but you didn't care. you wanted to — had to keep going. you wanted this so badly — to take care of him. you needed this, and if he wanted it, too — he was going to give it to you.

you began to bob your head up and down, taking care to mind your gag reflex and teeth. the slurping sounds from your mouth were obscene — as was the drool falling from your lips, down your cheek, and along the skin of your raw neck.

both of billy's hands were on the back of your head now, giving you slightest — almost ghost like — push down. you welcomed it, hoping to show him you could take him far, farther than he thought you could handle.

above, he was going crazy. fucking nuts. his entire body was hot and on fire, and it took every ounce of him to not drag you back up into his lap and impale you on his cock. however... his muscles were tired, and his sweet girl looked so perfect on her knees before him, and who was he to deny her what she wanted so badly — what she earned?

he'd never tell you — but he wanted you to have it more than you wanted it yourself. he wanted you to know that he only felt comfortable enough with you to be in such a vulnerable position like this — pretty woman, teeth so close to his jewels. he wanted you to know that you were setting every nerve, vein, blood vessel on absolute fucking fire with the way your silky tongue slid down the length of his shaft, and the way your tight, warm throat enclosed around his sensitive cock... he wanted you to know how much he adored you, and how much he wanted to give you everything you had ever wanted.

"fuck, sweetheart —" he bit. "I'm so close — you better — pull off —"

"too much for you, cowboy?" she only pulled off for a second, before she put him into the deepest parts of her throat.

the way you teased him set a raw set of anger and adoration through this veins, and he didn't know what to do with it. he was so weak, tired, spent, and fucking horny — he couldn't move, think, or fight back. all he wanted was to cum down this sweet girl's throat and make her his.

"that's it, baby, fuck —" he spat through gritted teeth, the hands on the back of your head encouraging your movements. "right there, right there — fuck."

you held your place, keeping a few inches of him in your mouth. his thick cock throbbed a few times before ropes of white decorated the walls of your throat, and you swallowed every last drop. you pumped him a few more times, for good measure — and also to get back at him for earlier.

"don't be mean to me, baby —" he whined. "come up and lay with me."

you giggled, crawling up the bed to lay next to him.

"gonna tell me how that was?" you asked. "or too proud?"

he chuckled then. his post orgasm glow was so beautiful... for the first time, william h. bonney didn't have a permanent from embedded in his brow. he looked so... peaceful.

"not too proud to admit that was the best I've ever had in my life," he laughed, letting his eyes close. you trailed a hand up and down the soft skin of his chest and stomach before curling up next to him. "going to be proud after i take you to the courthouse tomorrow and make you my wife."

you scoffed at that. "i didn't think cowboys were the settling down type."

"they're not — but i'm no cowboy, sweetheart," he rasped, turning to look at you. "you're it for me — if you'll have me, that is."

you smiled then. a real smile. the type of smile that gave billy hope.

"on one condition," you spoke.

his eyebrows furrowed, but he nodded his head anyway.

"you'll ask me for real in the morning, mr. bonney."

"i'll give you anything you want, mrs. bonney — as long as you're mine."

---

what did we think?? xox

-L

#billy the kid #William h bonney #william h bonney x reader #kid antrim #billy the kid x reader #william bonney #William bonney smut #billy the kid smut #billy the kid 2022 #tom blyth

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eraenaa · 2 months

Text

Birthday Present

Feyd-Rautha x Lady Reader

Synopsis: During a state visit, you, a daughter of one of the great houses, have captured the attention and fatal attraction of the Na-Baron and were quickly turned into his promised wife.

Warnings: ¿Enemies to Lovers-ish?, Arranged Marriage, Mature, 18+, P in V Sex, Blood Play, Fingering, Choking, Violence, Murder , Over Stimulation, Not Proofread

Word Count: 5,900 (pls bear with me)

Finally watched Dune: Part Two and needed to make a quick little fic because another psychopath to obsess over with has been unlocked.

You dreaded for this day to come. You begged your father and brother to just leave you in the safety and comfort of your home, but still, they insisted— practically forced you to join them in the business venture they will partake in Giedi Prime. You walked out of the royal ship with your brother by your side, trying hard not to let the frown slip your face, especially when your fine dress had lost its color due to the planet’s black sun. Your eyes trailed around those who were present as a welcoming party for your kin, “Why are they all bald?” You whispered to your brother, who could not help but snort a laugh at your question. It was unnerving to look at them; no warmth nor life was evident. You were escorted inside the palace and it was barely different from the outside, still bleak and dark and plain.

You feel curious eyes trail you as you walk with your family, who are being escorted to meet Baron Vladimir Harkonnen. You clenched your jaw and held your breath as you were met with the head of House Harkonnen. You heard tales about him and his state, but none could prepare you enough to be met with him face to face. If you had thought his subjects were already unnerving to look at, you would gladly give up the gift of sight just as long as you no longer had to see nor remember the image of the gruesome Baron. You quickly planted your eyes on the ground, having looked enough at the man who floated about in the middle of the room that you had missed the way that dark blue eyes were planted steadily on your frame.

“Welcome to Giedi Prime, your Grace,” You hear the Baron greet your Duke father, and you stay silent and hope that they would be quick with the pleasantries and let you retire to rest after the long journey to their dreary planet. You hear the baron address your brother, making him step forward, and you pray for your presence to be ignored, but alas, your name was called, and you feel all eyes upon you. “A beauty this one is, your grace… she looks just like her mother,” The Baron mussed, and you could only offer a tight smile at his praise because you had no recollection of what your mother looked like because the price of your life was hers. You backed away and took your place next to your brother once more as the Baron began to introduce his kin.

“My nephews, Glossu Rabban,” the baron introduced, and your brother nudged you to raise your gaze and show your host respect and recognition. You did as told and locked eyes with the dark blue orbs that had been entranced upon you ever since you entered the throne room. “And Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha,” You swallowed thickly and turned stiff as the heir to House Harkonnen stepped down and walked toward your direction. Your linked arms with your brother tightened as the Na-Baron paused before you, bowing and taking your hand into his cold ones before placing a kiss on your knuckles. Feyd-Rautha wanted to smirk at the wide-eyed and blushing state he placed you in. The only greeting you gave him was a quick curtsy and a mumble of “My Lord,” The Na-Baron returned to his place at the right hand of his uncle and kept his gaze tranced on you.

“How long are we to stay here?” You asked your father as he and your brother escorted you to your chambers. “Until the treaties are settled,” your father replied, and you scrunched your nose as the eyes of Harkonnen subjects followed you wherever you went. “They’re all staring at you,” Your brother mumbled, noticing the curious gazes as well. “Maybe they haven’t seen anyone with color or hair yet,” You distractedly said as you looked behind, the pair of dark blue eyes still haunting and following your every move. “Did I really have to come here?” You asked your father with a frown. “Yes. We could not leave you alone for an extended period— what will happen if our planet suddenly goes to war and you were there, left alone?” Your father asked, his protectiveness shining through. “Then I’d be surrounded by our army and best warriors.” You replied and earned a stern look from your father. “What am I even supposed to do here?” You grumbled and ceased by the door of your guest chambers. “You can explore the planet— do some sightseeing.” He answered, but that only severe your frown. “Sightsee what? Everything here is either black or gray— either bleak or depressing” You said, making your father sigh. “Just get ready for dinner,” He said, and you gave up on fighting them and their decision to drag you to the planet.

A knock sounded out in your barren chambers. You understood that the palace was pushing some kind of aesthetic, but they took it to an extremity. There was literally just a bed and an armchair in your chambers. A very stark difference from your own room or even the guest chambers in your planet’s palace. Your handmaid opened the door whilst you looked at yourself in the mirror; you were to be escorted by your brother and were expecting him by the door, but hearing the gasp from your handmaid told you otherwise. You looked toward the chamber room door and saw the Na-Baron standing by its threshold; your maid stood by the side, head hung low, and was quietly trembling in fear.

“Can we help you, Na-Baron?” You asked and smoothened the fabric of your gown. Trying your best not to appear unnerved by his dark gaze or his imposing demeanor. “I am to escort you to the dining room, my lady,” He said and offered his arm for you to take; you made no move to do so. “Oh…my brother was—“ you slightly frown as he cuts you off. “He is already there with your father,” He said, and you licked your lips and hesitantly nodded, having no choice but to take his offer to escort you.

Feyd eyes curiously at the gown you fashioned and the decorations in your hair. You were a deep and vivid contrast between him and his planet. Your dress made of velvet trained behind you, the heavy and overflowing cloth cutting through the silence between you and the heir of House Harkonnen. You did not know if you should converse with him or just remain silent. And if you did choose the former, what topic of conversation would you even propose to the fearsome— psychotic warrior that is the Na-Baron?

“How are you finding Giedi Prime, my lady?” His deep and raspy voice cut through the silence, and you thought of an embellished reply that would not offend the warrior. “Different… I— it is most unique, Na-Baron,” You manage to say after a short while, Feyd noting how you struggled to give a kind reply, your brows in a furrow, and your lips would open and close as you thought of what to say.

You finally could breathe freely, and your stiffened form turned lax when the Na-Baron escorted you to your seat next to your brother and let go of his hold on your hand. You tried your best to keep your gaze away from any of the Harkonnens as you feared they would immediately see the fear and agitation in your eyes. “Is this human?” You lowly whispered to your brother, poking the cut of unidentified meat on your plate. Feyd smirked to himself as he heard the fear in your voice— overly wary, and it would seem the tales of their house had been implanted in your pretty little head. “It is cattle, my lady… but if you do prefer human flesh, our cooks could arrange that for you,” Feyd-Rautha relished at how your eyes widened and your cheeks blossomed with color once more. It was an interesting reaction that he had never been accustomed to see. “No, this is fine,” You quickly said and did not miss the amused smirk on the Na-Baron’s pale lips.

The following day, you were set to tour around the planet with your brother along with the Na-Baron. You three had just stepped out of the palace and into the light of the black sun when your brother was suddenly summoned to attend the negotiations. You took a sharp breath and turned to your sibling, widening your eyes and silently willing him not to leave you alone in the presence of the Na-Baron. Your brother could only shrug and place a quick, chaste kiss on the top of your head as he ran back inside the castle walls.

An awkward and uneasy silence followed you and your host as the tour began. Guards following the both of you in the direction of a large structure— that is as specific as you can get as the resident of the planet has still said no word as to where he was leading you.

“This… is the arena,” the Na-Baron finally said, and you could hear the delight in his tone as if the brutal and triangular infrastructure had brought him calm and serenity. You nodded your head and wandered your eyes upon the high walls and countless seats that surrounded you. “You shall return here soon enough, a special celebration to take place in a few days,” You hear him say as your gaze was still stuck high above where you were guessing private boxes were placed. When Feyd did not hear your reply, he stepped closer and boldly placed a hand on your waist, making you jump in shock and quickly step away. “You don’t talk much, do you?” He asked. He usually was quiet, only speaking when he thought it necessary and the silence he provided brought an additional sense of mystery to him. But with you… he could not restrain himself as he felt the want— the need to speak. An urge he had never had before, an urge he could not control.

“I prefer more to listen, my lord,” you answered, a white lie on your lips. You love to talk and blab about anything and everything, but you just did not want to exercise such habits with or around him, fearing he’ll grow annoyed by your yapping and slit your throat— a habit you heard he was fond of. You heard the Na-baron hum, and you avoided his gaze as he stared you down, as if trying to deduce if what you had said was the truth.

You followed the Na-Baron as he led you to more sights and structures that the Harkonnens take pride in. But everywhere you two went, you could not be rid of the curious and wondering gazes that followed. It was not a new scene; being a duke’s daughter meant you had been accustomed and exposed to the public. But being exposed and stared at and gawked at by people so different than you felt entirely unnerving. It made your skin crawl and your body tense uncomfortably. Your once proud and straight stature turned demure and small as you walked the dark and gray halls of the castle, you being the only thing of color and vividness in there, making you feel out of place and suffocated by the plainness.

The Na-Baron escorted you back to the guest wing and paused by your door; you quickly curtsied and disappeared behind the metal doors to finally put some space and distance between you and the lord you had been forced to spend the day with. Feyd’s jaw clenched as the metal doors closed upon him; if it were anyone else, his patience would have run thin, and he would not looked kindly upon your impertinence. But even in your boorish actions, the Na-Baron could not help but find it amusing— possibly even endearing.

As you were finished being prepared for yet another dinner, you turned to the doors once more at the sound of the opening, revealing your brother. “How was the tour?” He asked and sat by your bed as you stood in the mirror and adorned yourself with the precious metals and jewels. “When are we to leave? I… I would very much like to return home.” Was your reply as you still felt your skin crawl at how the eyes of the Na-Baron would asses you and your every move. “That bad, huh?” Your brother mused, and you sighed heavily. “I do not like it here, brother… I cannot… this place is entirely bleak and depressing.” You reasoned, and your brother only shook his head at your bellyaching.

“They barely even have furniture! Their sun is black… there are no gardens or greenery and flowers to admire— I am quite literally the most vivid thing here!” You suddenly exploded, but your brother could only laugh. “Just a few more days, sister… we were most productive earlier. You’ll only have to endure this planet and its plainness for a few days more,” Your brother said, and you solemnly nodded your head, willing yourself to endure and be patient as your whole being wanted nothing but to return home.

True to the Na-Baron’s words, you and your kin were in the triangular arena a few days later. A grand celebration for the birthday of the heir of House Harkonnen. Feyd-Rautha stepped out into the black sun and walked onto the pit with the screams and cheers of his house’s subjects. His eyes cast above and searched for only one being— an attention he seeks to be entranced upon him. The Na-Baron felt his lips curl wickedly as your eyes were upon him, seated in the royal box next to your brother. Your expression trying not to show contempt or disapproval. The Na-Baron was known for his skills in fighting— he is the greatest warrior there is. Everyone was impressed and in awe by his skills in combat, and he was certain that it, too, would impress you.

You clenched your jaw and turned your head to the side as the Na-Baron was relentless in fighting the remaining members of House Atreides. You planted your gaze on your lap and fisted the fabric of your dress as you hear the land of steel and the grunts of prisoners. You took a deep inhale as your brother nudged you once more, urging you to watch the scene as it would be an offense if the Baron caught you ignoring the efforts of his favored nephew. You swallowed thickly and returned your eyes towards the men who fought; there was only one opponent now.

Feyd-Rautha returned his gaze to you, delighting as you still had your eyes upon him. There was only one prisoner now, only one more man between him and the amazement he thought he would garner from you with his violent display. But as Feyd-Rautha set his eye on the final prisoner, his jaw ticked, and his hold on his blade tightened as he noticed that the Atreides prisoner was not drugged. He turned his spiteful gaze to his uncle, the vile man simply smirking and giving a nod of his head. Dark blue eyes flickered at you, who had her lip between he teeth in anxiousness. The Na-Baron squared his shoulders and refocused; he could not be made a fool nor a failure when the eyes of his planet were upon him— not when your eyes were upon him. As always, Feyd-Rautha emerged victorious in battle.

“The slave wasn’t drugged,” Feyd said as he stood before his uncle, his form rigged still with the pestering feeling that he might have failed and been humiliated under your gaze. You tried to kill me?” he gritted out, but his uncle was merely amused. “Tonight, you are a hero… my gift to you,” The Baron explained, but that did not sedate the rage in the Na-Baron’s being. “I ought to drown you in that tub,” he snarled, but his uncle chuckled at his threat. “Don’t be hasty… I have another gift for you,” that piqued Feyd’s interest. “A bigger one,” his uncle added. “The girl, the duke’s daughter.” With just the mention of you, the Baron noted the quick shift in his nephew’s temperament. Desire shining through his rage.

Feyd’s lips staggered as he thought of a reply, as he thought of how his uncle was able to acquire you for him as if you were some mere whore and not a daughter of one of the great houses. “Her father approved?” He asked and saw as a smirk rose to the lips of his uncle. “He had no choice but to… if he wanted the treaties to take place and for war to not come to their planet— he must offer his daughter to you.” Feyd let a rare and sincere grin slip his lips with the thought of you being bound to him.

By the guest wing, an ugly discussion was taking place. “Father, you cannot be serious,” You all but cried, “To that psychotic Na-Baron!?” You screamed with tears streaming down your face. You knew it; you knew coming to Giedi Prime was a mistake— your intuition warned you greatly, but you ignored it and complied with your father’s wishes and orders. “There was no other way. I’m sorry,” Your father sighed and tried to take hold of you to calm you down. “You would leave me here to be his bride? You would leave me here vulnerable in the desolate walls of these Harkonnens?” You cried in pain, but your expression turned confused as your father shook his head.

“The Na-Baron, your betrothed, will be heir to Arakis… you shall stay and rule there with him.” You hear the hopeful tone in your father’s voice as he tells you that you will be the lady of the most coveted seat and planet in the universe. “You… you cannot do this to me— please do not do this to me, father, I beg of you,” You cried, only crying harder as your father took you into his arms and offered you his apologies once more. Nothing can be done; you were now promised to the fearsome and formidable Na-Baron.

They arranged for you to acquaint yourself more with your soon-to-be husband. Servants of House Harkonnen escorted you to him, and you followed mindlessly, but your stomach pitted in fear as you realized you had been led to the Na-Baron’s chambers. Your lips agape, and looked behind to see the servants hurriedly shuffling out of the Na-Baron’s room. You felt yourself grow cold and the life in your face went pale. You cautiously looked around the chambers and saw three women by your right, dressed and styled differently than the servants. The presence of women used to always bring you comfort in uncertain scenarios, but the three present did not aid your raging fear.

“What’s so special about her?” You hear one of them drawl to the other, and you feel your lips upturn in confused fear. “Such a pitiful thing… weak and so fragile, could not even stomach to watch our lord handsomely fighting those puny slaves,” You frown and finally turn to them, the three just as eerie and disturbing to look at as any of their people, maybe even more so. “So what does she have to be rewarded with our great master Feyd-Rautha?” A third girl asked, and that is when you realized what their roles were. They looked at you expectantly, trying to know what you possessed to be rewarded or punished with the title of the Na-Baron’s betrothed. “I do not know,” you began, “Perhaps hair? Or sanity? Take your pick.” You boldly replied and watched as their teasing and amused looks turned scathing and jealous. Before any of them could make another remark, the sound of the door opening and boots walking the floor echoed through the room. Your expression was hard as you watched the three girls lower their heads demurely and out of respect as their master entered.

“Ah, my future wife… I see you have met my darlings,” You turned to your betrothed, a smirk on his lips and his dark eyes sickeningly delighted as he was in a room filled with women he was certain would bring him much pleasure. You licked your lips and crossed your arms across your chest, your gaze flying to the three women who brazenly insulted you just mere moments ago. “You whores,” You boldly stated and let a fleeting smirk fly to your lips as you heard them hiss at your true statement. “My darlings.” Feyd-Rauth corrected, defending his loyal pets. You hummed and nodded your head. Finally, matching the fiery gaze of the Na-Baron. Every second you held his gaze, Feyd felt himself tighten against his trousers. You had always shielded your gaze from him, never letting him stare deep into those enchanting and lively eyes, and now that he did, all he wanted to do was stare into them, watch as tears would form when he made you cry in pleasure.

“I always thought whores are acquired after marriage, but I suppose the Na-Baron is always one step ahead,” You bitterly mused at the man across from you, expecting him to grow enraged as you called his ‘darlings’ whores once more. But instead of rage, you only saw the smirk on the Na-Baron’s lips widen. “Are you jealous, little wife?” He asked and threaded closer, you let a frown slip your pretty face and a scoff left your lips. “Do not call me that,” You gritted. “And no, I am not… in all honesty, I am relieved in their existence if it means that you would be preoccupied and far from me and my bed; you could have a hundred ‘darlings’ for all I care,” You stood your ground no matter how your mind went alarmed at the murderous look on your betrothed’s once amused expression.

You chewed your cheeks as the Na-Baron silently motioned for the three women to step closer. You thought he was testing you, to see if you were truly unbothered and not at all jealous that your future husband was being satisfied by other women, but you gasped in horror as Feyd-Rautha swiftly took his dagger and slit the throats of his three pets. They fell at your feet, and you could only watch and step back in horror at the scene of black blood pooling and spewing from their throats. You were trembling, and Feyd-Rautha took you into his arms, forcing your face to look at him, enjoying the horror in your eyes. “Now, nothing will keep me from you and your bed, wife,” he lowly whispered, and you were defenseless as he captured your lips. Hungrily kissing you and pulling you impossibly closer to him to feel the softness of your frame as blood flooded under your feet.

All was quick to fall into place. One moment, it was announced you were to be wed to the heir of House Harkonnen, and the next, you were being prepared for the actual ceremonies. You felt bile rising and tears falling as you stared at yourself in the mirror. A gown of white in the make and design of your home planet rather than the fashion of Giedi Prime. “You look beautiful, sister,” Your brother complimented quietly. He, too, turned solemn as he had no way to protect you from the arrangements made behind closed doors. “Let’s just get this over with,” You mumbled and took his arm for what you believed would be the last time.

You were being escorted down the aisle by your father, Feyd-Rautha’s eyes upon you impatiently; he could no longer wait any further and suffer through the ceremonies and banquets before he had you alone in his chambers. After your kiss two nights prior, you quickly left the chambers and left the Na-Baron to want and desire more. Each moment that had passed has left him hard and strained, with no other outlet for his needs to be quenched and met; his only choice was to wait for you to be his wife.

It should shame you to admit, but the kiss you shared with the Na-Baron didn’t leave you disgusted. It was alarming to note that your body had turned warm, and throughout the night, your thoughts strayed to wanting more. You had been kissed before, once, but it was nothing compared to the way Feyd-Rautha kissed your lips.

You stood by his side as a man in front spoke in a language you could not comprehend or understand. The only thing your mind could focus on was the way the Na-Baron’s hand held yours. Cold and calloused palms enclosed around warm and soft ones. You raised your gaze as the man in front of the two of you finally spoke words you understood, announcing to the room that you and the Na-Baron were officially husband and wife. You set your eyes upon Feyd-Rautha, whose dark eyes were on your lips. Letting go of your hand and taking hold of your face to kiss your lips without warning. It was a quicker kiss than the one shared the previous night, and you were dismayed yourself as your body wanted more, so much more.

Feyd smirked as he saw color bloom onto your cheeks and felt its warmness against his cold touch. No word was exchanged as he escorted you through the aisle, the cheers of his subjects ringing loudly; absent were the reactions of you and your kin. You were still silent during the banquet, only offering a ghost of a smile when you two were approached and presented with ‘congratulations.’ You tried to ignore the way your body responded when your husband placed his hand on your thigh, giving it a squeeze now and then through the fabric of your gown. “You look ravishing, my darling,” You hear him whisper in your ear, his warm breath sending a chill down your spine.

“Do not call me that,” you gritted as you had no wish to share an endearment he used with his whores. Feyd smirked as he believed that heard a hint of jealousy in your honey voice, “And what would you like to be called, wife?” He asked, and you clenched your jaw and thighs as that brought a surprising twist in your core. Your reaction was not missed by the Na-Baron, a wicked smirk spreading to his lips and his hand inching higher from your thigh. “Tell me, wife… are you too as excited as I am for the bedding?” He teased and nipped your ear, making you gasp, turning to him with shock and wanting-filled eyes. Your eyes shifted from his dark blue orbs to his plush lips, and the desire for it to be against you became increasingly prominent. You gulped as his eyes turned impossibly darker and his jaw clenched, you took a sharp intake of breath as he abruptly stood. “The feast is finished, leave.” That was all he said before he urged you to stand and dragged you to his chambers.

You were like putty in his arms as he pushed you up against the cold wall of his chambers. Your lips roughly danced against each other, and his hands hiked up your wedding dress, leaving fire with his cold touch. For days, you had convinced yourself you felt no attraction to the man who had his lips on you’re neck and hand against your cunt. “You are a great actress, wife. Making me believe you hated me— wanted nothing to do with me, but that cannot be true, not when your cunt is so wet and ready for me.” You gasped as he inserted his finger inside you without warning— the feeling foreign, and you did not know if you should embrace the uncomfortability or the prospect that pleasure was quick to bloom. “So tight… my little wife had never been defiled— that shall change,” He mused against your lips, swallowing your whine when he inserted another finger inside your wet cunt.

“M-My lord,” You cried at the curl of his finger; you heard him ‘tsk’ and rub his thumb against the sensitive bundles of nerves on your cunt. “Enough with the formalities. I am your husband, and you will call me by my name— you will scream my name when you come.” Your eyes rolled back as his other hand clasped around your neck, your husband thrilled and overjoyed as you only clenched tightly around him, and a pleasured moan slipped past your lips. He thought he’d have to be gentle with you— that he would scare you with his savage desires, but as he felt you cling and clench to him as he added more pressure around your throat, he knew you would be able to take and would be grateful for his brazenness in fucking.

“Feyd… Feyd!” You cried as you felt your thighs tremble and your core painfully twists in want of release. You whined and cried as you felt his fingers slip out of you, your knees weak and your body desperate for release. “Patience, little wife,” Your husband cruelly mussed, his eyes locked upon you as he licked the essence of you clean from his fingers. You moaned as his lips met yours again, tasting yourself as his tongue teased yours. You whimpered as he placed his rough hands tights on your hips, imprinting his mark and making it known to you that he was yours. You groaned as he bit your lower lip hard enough to draw blood, him pulling away to admire the red the beaded on your plump, sweet lips. “Such a pretty color…” he murmured and bought his finger to wipe away the blood and taste it, you growing more aroused as a rumble emerged from his throat. Feyd watched as more blood dripped from your lips, and he wasted not a drop of it, kissing and tasting all of you.

Feyd moved the two of you to his bed, pushing you down on the soft, silk-coved mattress. You swallowed thickly as he took out his dagger once more, a grin on his lips as he saw a speck of fear in your eyes. “Such a beauty you look in this dress… but I know you’ll look better without it,” He took the dagger and cut through your fine gown, nicking your stomach on the way. Feyd zeroed in on your sweet blood once more, his eyes hungrily taking in your body that was now exposed to him. “Oh…” You moaned as his tongue soothed the cut he made, his tongue teasing you as it would thread lower but would return to the cut every time it oozed blood. “Feyd… please,” You finally relinquished and let your needs be known. He hummed as his cock grew harder at your moans.

“What do you want, little wife?” he hummed and took a deep breath of your scent. You whined as his tongue teased your navel, and his lips threaded further south but quickly moved north again. You moaned as his black teeth gently bit your bosom, his cold hand pawing at the other, your nipples taut by his cold hand and hot tongue. “Tell me, little wife, what do you want?” You whimpered again as nipped your skin once more, “You. I… I want you,” You finally said and yelled when Feyd flipped you to your stomach. Anticipation sat heavily as you heard him shuffling to remove his clothing. You breathed harshly as you felt his hands on your behind, kneading the smooth, plump flesh; his thumb teasingly brushed your cunt, and you were quick to moan.

“What did you want again, my pretty wife?” He hummed by your ear, his toned body pressing against your back, his throbbing cock resting on your derrière. “You, I want you. Please, Feyd… I— please just fuck me,” You cried and let go of any pride you had in exchange for feeling pleasure. You howled as his thick and large length pushed its way inside you. Feyd hissing as the tip of his cock was being squeezed by your cunt. You were wet, galaxies, you were wet. But not wet enough for your husband’s cock to slip inside comfortably. Friction and resistance were prominent, and Feyd enjoyed that tremendously. Excruciating pain first had to be felt before you could feel the pleasure that you were desperate for.

You gasped and felt tears rim your eyes as a cold hand found home around your neck again. “So fucking tight… all fucking mine,” Feyd hissed as he fully sheathed himself inside you; his hand felt the trickle of pained tears, and he was determined to turn it into tears of pleasure. “Such a good wife taking all of me,” He praised and squeezed your neck tighter. You whimpered and raised your gaze, only now noticing that the wall that your husband’s bed rested upon was entirely reflective that you could see him in all of his glory. Knelt behind you and a pleasured expression on his face as he gradually moved his length in and out of you.

It felt like eons before you finally felt pleasure, but when it finally came, it was the most blissful feeling you had experienced in your life. The way he harshly gripped your throat, the way that his lips would pepper kisses on your shoulders and back, was enough to quickly drive you into climax. One where you screamed and called for his name, begging him to slow down, but he did no such thing. Only increased his speed and moved his hand to draw circles upon your bundle of nerves, coaxing another climax from you, making you scream his name louder and your body over-sensitive. “Feyd, Feyd, no more, please,” You cried as your whole body was already exhausted and trembling.

“I do not understand you, wife. Just earlier, you were begging for this… you were begging to be fucked by me.” He grunted as he, too, felt his peak to come. He moved his hands to bundle your hair, the texture so soft and foreign, his fingers running through the locks and pulling it to make you groan. “Such a perfect cunt, such a perfect wife. You will sire me many heirs… you will always be my side.” Feyd groaned as you squeezed his length tighter and tighter to the point he felt pleasurable pain. You hear his animalistic growl when he finally spills himself deep inside of you, watching through the reflective wall as his face contorted into sheer pleasure, his rasping voice repeating your name as you feel both of your essences drip on the inside of your thigh.

He moved your head for your lips to meet with his again, him biting down to draw blood once more. You pulled away and gasped for air as well as gasped in shock as you felt his once limped and just emptied length grow erect inside you. “Did you truly think we were finished?” He asked against your lips. “I’m going to fuck and breed you until you’re unable to walk, little wife.”

#feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd oneshot #dune part two #austin butler #harkonnen #dune 2 #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #dune fanfiction #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha x reader #dune x reader #house harkonnen #great houses #na-baron harkonnen

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pedropascallme · 3 months

Text

Wreck and Resurrect

Pairing: Damien Haas x f!Reader

Summary: “It wasn’t that you went out of your way to be disobedient—it wasn’t as if you had to obey at all, point blank, period. You had your own life, your own responsibilities, and Damien was well aware of that; he would never try to hinder your ability to go about your day. But when he spoke like that, voice tinged with an edge of dominance as he put you in your place, even jokingly, and then when it got to the point where he acted on it...”

Content: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), p in v sex, sexting, brattamer!Damien, like full on dom!Damien, oral (m & f receiving), teasing, degradation, praise, choking, use of a belt where a belt does NOT need to be used, mild dacryphilia? If I missed anything please let me know!

AN: Hi! So this is definitely...porn. I re-read and edited and added and took away so much from this fic that at this point it feels like gibberish to me. But I hope you guys enjoy it!!

You woke up before Damien’s alarm. It went off the same time every morning, and you had started to anticipate it even in your sleep—a Pavlovian response to the consistency.

You liked the routine; the way you woke up to his face every day, the way he wiped the sleep from his eyes before rubbing his chin, silently debating whether or not he wanted to shave. And then he would turn over, check to see whether or not you were awake with him.

“I’m sorry,” he turned off the alarm on his phone and rolled back over to kiss you. “Go back to sleep.”

Today, you pulled him closer, keeping him flush against you and deepening the morning kiss he offered. “Don’t want you to go.”

“I’d be a little concerned if you did.” He smiled against your mouth, letting you embrace him. His skin was warm, heated by a night spent pressed against you under the comforter. “I gotta get up, baby.”

“No.” You tightened your arms around his midriff, and he laughed.

“C’mon, don’t be a brat,” his voice, still gravelly and laced with sleep, made the words go straight to your core; it was never too early to want him. “I have a short day. Then I’m all yours.”

“I’m not being a brat.” Your gaze met his, and you frowned. “How short?”

“Just a few hours,” he untangled himself from you, getting out of bed. You watched him stretch, blushing at how the muscles in his back flexed when he rolled his shoulders. “You think you can be good until I’m home?” He smiled, teasing, leaning over you and brushing strands of hair from your face. He tucked it behind your ear, then cupped your face in his hand and let his thumb trace your cheek bone.

You weren’t sure why you felt so needy for him this morning, but you leaned into his touch as soon as his palm made contact with your skin. “I’ll be good.” You grabbed his hand, kissing it, “I promise.”

His smile widened, bending down to kiss you again before turning away to get dressed.

~~~

Hours after Damien had left for work, you found the motivation to get out of bed—motivation that took the form of cats in absolutely dire need of attention—and tried to go about your day. You ran errands, did some work of your own, made a breakfast worthy of the Mythical Kitchen (on a good day); but, Christ almighty, were you bored. There was something missing, and it was making you antsy.

You hadn’t forgotten to do anything—everything on your checklist was in proper order, crossed out and completed. So why did it feel like you were neglecting something?

Damien’s words from earlier that morning echoed through your head.

“Don’t be a brat.”

Ah.

The final piece of the puzzle.

It wasn’t that you went out of your way to be disobedient—it wasn’t as if you had to obey at all, point blank, period. You had your own life, your own responsibilities, and Damien was well aware of that; he would never try to hinder your ability to go about your day. But when he spoke like that, voice tinged with an edge of dominance as he put you in your place, even jokingly, and then when it got to the point where he acted on it...

You loved that kind of attention. You knew exactly where pushing him in the right places would get you. And if Damien thought you were being a brat, then you’d capitalize off of that.

You picked up your phone and fired off a brief message to him.

💬How’s work?

While you waited for a reply, you stripped down from your daytime clothes, rummaging through his dresser to find suitable attire to enact your plan. Your phone dinged when you found the right shirt, as if on cue.

💬Lots of busy work. How has your day been?

It was like he was serving you the opportunity on a silver platter.

💬Pretty good. I miss you.

You stood in front of the full body mirror on the wall; Damien’s shirt hit the midpoint of your thighs, and you pulled it up ever so slightly to reveal the perfect amount of skin.

You took a picture and hit send.

💬Found your soft shirt that I like! Highlight of my day.

You watched intently as the bubbles of his forming message popped up on screen, then disappeared, then popped up again. You laughed silently.

💬Spencer almost saw that.

You smirked.

💬Ask him if he wants another look.

💬You are in so much fucking trouble.

You took another picture, this time leaning on the bed, legs spread just enough to give the camera a glimpse of the naked space between your thighs.

Send.

💬For what? I’m just showing you how pretty I look in your clothes.

For the second time, you watched him start typing, then stop, then start again.

💬Brat.

You smiled at the message.

~~~

You stayed like that for the next hour; lounging in bed in his shirt and waiting for him to get home. When you heard the lock on the door click, you shot out of bed.

Padding out of the bedroom and down the hall, you expected at least a kiss before the inevitable punishment that awaited you, but all you got was Damien’s cold gaze.

“Knees.”

You tried to wrap your arms around him, a lazy attempt to play dumb as to what it was that had made him so fierce. He let you hang off of him momentarily before pulling you off and gripping your jaw in one hand.

“I said get on your knees.”

You did as you were told.

“Fuck’s gotten into you today, princess?” He smiled down at you, but the kindness that was usually there had been replaced by something primal. “Thought you said you’d be good.”

“I was good.” You managed, shifting your weight, trying to give your knees some relief on the hardwood floor.

Damien laughed. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You really think so?”

“I was good.” You reiterated, fully aware that you were still acting like a brat, but trying to see just how deep a hole you could dig yourself into.

That was half the fun.

“No, you weren’t,” he stated, “Tell me.”

You stared up at him, the ghost of a smile on your lips. You stayed quiet.

You watched Damien sigh, exhaling for as long as it took him to shuck off his coat and throw it onto an armchair behind him.

“You gonna keep playing like this?” He asked.

You bit the inside of your cheek. You couldn’t hide your smile any longer.

He undid his belt, folding it gently and holding it out for you. “Hold it.”

You took it, running your fingers over the leather. He undid his zipper.

“That’s fine. Keep playing.” He ran a hand through his hair before reaching down to remove his cock from the confines of his pants, “But you know what brats get.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a warning. You watched him fist his cock, and admired the way he seemed almost uninterested in his own movements despite the fact that you knew how much he was looking forward to this.

“Spit.” He commanded, and you let a strand of saliva fall on the tip of his cock; your lips parted, waiting for your cue. Damien pumped himself, aided by your spit, and after a moment tapped his cock to your lips. You set the belt down haphazardly on your lap while trying to stabilize yourself by putting a hand on his thigh.

“Did I say to put it down?” He tsked at you. You shook your head. “Use your fucking words. Did I tell you that you could put it down?”

“No.”

“So pick it up.” You did, growing achier by the second at the way you were positioned under him, but too excited to care.

“C’mon,” he refocused your attention, “Open wide.” You did, letting your tongue poke out over your bottom lip, and he pushed into you. You gagged when he hit the back of your throat, and when you made eye contact with him, he was smiling. “Didn’t think I was going to be nice after your little performance today, did you?” You tried to shake your head, but he wasn’t impressed. “Words.”

Your muffled response sent vibrations up his spine, and he stroked your hair. “That’s it. Gonna let me fuck your face? Let me use you like a slut since you wanna act like one?” Again, your words were muted around his cock, and Damien growled at the image of you on your knees with your lips wrapped around him.

He pulled you back by the hair, intent on staying still and watching you put in the work. He let you take a deep breath before he pushed you back down. Tears sprung from your eyes when you choked on him. You squeezed the belt in your hands tighter as he held you down.

“Are you crying, princess?” He cooed, keeping his cock pressed deep down your throat. “I thought this is what you wanted, baby. Didn’t you want attention?” He pulled you off of him and watched intently at the way you gasped for air, drool coating your lips and chin.

“Want—want you to fuck me.” You pleaded, voice hoarse from the strain his cock had put on your throat.

“Yeah?” He brushed a stray tear from your cheek, bending down momentarily and bringing his voice to a low whisper. “I don’t care what you want.” It sounded so sincere, and you couldn’t help but whine at the words as they left his mouth.

He straightened back up to his full height, and you opened your mouth without being asked this time.

“You wanna be a good girl for me now?” He all but laughed when he saw what you were doing. You nodded, and he let you lick a stripe up the underside of his cock before you took it back into your mouth. “Little late for that, don’t you think?” He smiled. “Belt,” he beckoned, and you handed it to him. He removed his hand from your hair, opting instead to keep you against his body with his belt by looping it behind your head and pulling with both hands. This time, he pushed you all the way down onto him. Your nose pressed against him, and you spluttered while he watched on.

“You can do it,” he moaned at the feeling of your mouth around the base of his cock, “Just a little longer baby, you can do it.” He reiterated. “Look at me—hey, look at me, princess. I’m counting down from ten.”

He started his countdown. Your face was wet with tears and spit, and you could feel your thighs growing sticky. You tried to shift your weight again, maybe offer yourself a little friction, a moment to appreciate how genuinely turned on you were by his actions, but the look he shot you as he reached six on the countdown made you stop dead, frozen under his gaze as you attempted to be good for him.

When he got to one, he dropped the belt, and you heard the buckle clang against the floor. He pulled you off of him, hand once again wrapping around your jaw as he leaned down, meeting you half-way to kiss you. It was heated, passionate, and you loved how his tongue flicked into you as if he was trying to taste himself on your lips.

“Knew you could do it.” You keened under his praise, raising your arms and wrapping them around his shoulders. He let you stay on him this time, and you thought maybe you had proven yourself to be the good girl you said you were. He lifted you up, carrying you to the bedroom.

When he put you down, you immediately started to undress; it didn’t take long, still only wearing his shirt, but once it was off you crawled across the mattress to him. You tugged at his clothes, trying to get him to strip along with you. Damien moved slowly, paying no mind to your whines as you grabbed at the hem of his shirt and the waistband of his boxers. He stretched out on the bed, and you moved to straddle him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asked.

“Please, Damien—want you to fuck me.” You nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, hoping that your saccharine display would convince him of the fact that you were ready to be good.

“Didn’t I already tell you that I don’t care what you want?” He whispered, lips mere millimeters away from your ear when he pushed his cheek against your head where it rested against him.

You whimpered against his skin. “But I was good.”

“Show me again,” he beckoned you from your hiding spot, “Show me again how good you can be.”

You whined, pouting. “How?”

“Just stay like that,” he guided you so that you were sitting up, “Make yourself cum like this. Can you do that for me?” His cadence was softer now, and he pushed hair from your face in a parallel to his actions that morning. You leaned into his touch now as you had then, planting your hands on his chest.

“But I want you to fuck me." You pleaded in vain.

“Brats don’t get what they want,” Damien’s tone turned harsh again. He moved his hands up the length of your legs and stopped to grip your waist, “Brats get what they deserve.”

The angle was odd, and you struggled to find a pacing that suited your needs. Damien watched you squirm above him, the faintest smirk on his lips; his hands stayed on your hips but didn’t offer any assistance. He wanted to watch, nothing more.

You bent yourself forward, still supporting yourself with your hands on his chest, and rolled your hips over him. You could feel him under you, hard and warm, and it did nothing to ease the heat in your lower stomach. You continued grinding down onto him, trying to find the delicious friction you sought; the tip of his cock pressed against your clit when you bucked your hips, and you let out a quiet moan.

“There you go,” Damien murmured. He had moved one arm under his head, propping himself up to get a better view. You grabbed at his bicep, squeezing softly, trying to get as much of him as you could. “You gonna make yourself cum for me?”

“Can’t,” you whined, still sweeping your hips over him, now with more fervor, trying to find the position that would give your clit the pressure it needed to let you reach your high. “Please, Damien, let me cum on your cock.”

He tilted his head back, “Isn’t that what I’m letting you do now?”

“Inside.” You were begging.

“No.” He squeezed your hip with the hand still situated there. He seemed to relent slightly, beginning to guide you. “Cum like this.”

You felt like crying; pent up and desperate and not at all able to make yourself feel even half as good as he would be able to. You let him pull you back and forth, the sounds of your slick coating his cock creating an absolutely obscene backing score to your actions. You felt the pressure in your stomach rise when he bucked his hips into you, pulling you forward to let your clit rest directly on him while you moved, directed by his hand.

Your breath hitched, and Damien, clearly getting impatient and fueled by his own want to fuck you, repeated the motion. Something inside you snapped, and you were cumming; your nails left small crescent imprints on his skin, clawing lightly at his arm and chest. You cried out, and he pulled you against him, letting you calm your breathing while you lay on his chest.

“You ready to be good now?” He nosed the crown of your head.

“Mhm,” your sounds were somewhere between confident and moaned. “Gonna be good.”

“What do you say?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me cum—thank you for letting me cum.”

“You’re welcome, princess.” He kissed your forehead, and once he was certain you were ready, he flipped you off of him. He sat up, coaxing you onto your stomach before getting up to kneel behind you. You had never been happier to be on your hands and knees, the promise of what was to come made you dizzy with lust.

He positioned himself low on the mattress, and before you had the chance to ask what he was doing, you felt him lick a stripe up your cunt.

"Oh—" You shivered, bending yourself down further on your hands to give him complete access to you. Damien said nothing, continuing to lick slow circles around your hole. He spit, watching it trail over you and down to your clit where it fell off your skin in drops. You tried to reach back for him, to pull on his hair and encourage him to do more.

But then he was straightening up, situating himself on his knees and sliding his cock through your folds.

“What did we learn today?” His teasing words paired deliciously with the way his cock pressed against your entrance.

“Don’t be a brat.” Your words were muffled by the pillow you pressed your face against.

“That’s right,” he swiped his cock through your folds, gathering your slick, and you moaned softly. “You going to say sorry?”

You made a noise that sounded halfhearted. He pulled you back by your hair, forcing your back to arch, your face centimeters from his own. You giggled, still mildly hell-bent on seeing just how much trouble you could cause. He swatted at your thigh to get your attention back.

“Try again. Apologize.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry for being a brat—I’m so sorry, Damien, I’m sorry for being bad, I promise I’ll be so good for you, please.” Your words were rushed, eager to please him and get what you had been craving all day.

“Good,” he released your hair from his vice grip and let you reposition yourself properly in front of him. “One more time,” the tip of his cock nudged your entrance, so close to penetrating you but still not enough, “Say you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry.” You whimpered, and you had hardly finished your sentence before he rammed into you; there was no time wasted on getting you used to the way he had you speared, none spent on familiarizing your cunt with the stretch of his cock—he was as desperate as you were, and entirely unforgiving.

“God, fuck. Yeah, take it all like that,” his mouth hung open as he watched your cunt swallow him. You made absolutely pathetic noises, squirming against him, wiggling your hips around the intrusion of his cock.

“Fucking wet,” he groaned, hands once again finding purchase on your waist and pulling you against him with every thrust. “Does it turn you on, baby? Does acting like a slut make you wet for me? Letting me fuck your face and use you? Is that what got you wet like this?”

All you could manage was a hoarse cry, a garbled moan of affirmation. You heard him laughing behind you before he cut himself off with a moan, seated deep inside of you. Your cunt pulsed around him.

“Fuck—I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you moaned, the drag of his cock against your walls made your eyes roll back into your head.

“I know, baby, I know you’re so sorry,” he whispered, hands combing through your hair lovingly while he ravaged you, “You’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes!” You smiled, pressing your face further into the pillow to muffle your sounds. “Yours, I’m yours—your good girl.”

“Yes, you are,” he sped up his thrusts, and you couldn’t help the scream you let out into the pillow. He leaned forward, pulling it from you and throwing it to the side. “Let me hear your pretty sounds, princess—let me hear my good girl’s pretty sounds.”

You were certain that whatever complaint you might receive from the neighbors would be worth it; all you could do was cry out for Damien, telling him how good he felt, how you’d be nothing but obedient from now on, and he punctuated every one of your wails with a sharp snap of his hips. Your walls fluttered around him, and he took the opportunity to bask in you; he pushed himself deeper, tip of his cock kissing your cervix while you moaned quiet praises of the feeling.

“Feels so good,” you squeaked, and he bent down to kiss the back of your head. One hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing gently.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and cum on my cock like you were begging to?” He whispered, cock pushed as far inside of you as your cunt would allow.

“Yeah—please, yes!” You pushed your ass back against him, daring him to fuck you deeper, and he obliged; you felt drunk off his cock, the way he forced the air from your lungs with every thrust and how at a certain point you could remember nothing but his name and how deeply you loved and trusted him.

Damien reveled in your calls for him, the noises you made sent vibrations through his fingertips from where they rested on your throat.

He wrapped his free arm around your midriff, fingers finding your clit and rubbing circles in small bursts that synced with the motion of his hips. You squeezed your eyes shut, chanting his name like a prayer—over and over and over again.

“Such a good fucking girl,” he whispered down at you, and you were an absolute goner by the time the praise hit your ears; you felt your thighs shaking first, followed by the tightening in your stomach that, when it snapped and relaxed, spread pure, unadulterated pleasure through your body. Your moans of his name reached a crescendo and you collapsed under him, sore and tired and satisfied. You continued to murmur helplessly as he thrust into you, and when he came with a growl of your name and a string of curses, you felt a warm sensation in your lower stomach. You sighed happily at nothing in particular.

Damien immediately crowded you on the mattress, sweaty bodies intertwining, his arms wrapped around you in a desirous hug.

“You did so good, baby, you did such a good job for me.” He kissed whatever skin he could reach, peppering your cheek and shoulder with soft kisses. “My good girl, my perfect girl.”

You hummed into him, hand creeping up to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I did good?” You asked for further validation, hazy from the pleasure.

“So fucking good,” he pulled you closer to him. “Do you feel good? Was that too much?”

You shook your head, smiling at the way he checked in on you; his prioritization of your comfort never ceased to make your heart feel full. “Just what I wanted.” You reassured him.

“Me too,” he sighed, tracing shapes on your back. The room went quiet, and your breathing fell in sync with his. “Do you wanna clean up?” He nudged you finally, "I can get you a towel—or, or run the shower?"

“Not yet,” you had closed your eyes, content to rest on him, “Comfy.”

He smiled at you, kissing your forehead, and leaning back. “Y'know...I do like that shirt on you.” He mused.

“Yeah?” You perked up, suddenly wide awake again.

“Yeah,” he ran a hand through his hair, “I mean—I like everything on you—and off you—but I especially enjoy seeing you in my clothes.”

You laughed quietly, “I’ll keep that in mind next time I decide to act out.”

He grasped your face with both hands, covering your face with kisses and laughing, “Was that the lesson you learned today?”

“Learned not to be bratty,” you laughed at the way his stubble tickled your neck when he dipped down to kiss your pulse points, “Learned that when I am bratty you still give me what I want.”

He rolled his eyes playfully, letting go of your face and wrapping his arms around your waist again. “You got me all figured out, huh?”

“I think so,” you sighed dreamily, nuzzling your face against his chest, “Y’big softy.”

#damien haas #damien haas fanfiction #damien haas smut #damien haas x reader #damien haas x you #smosh #smosh fanfiction #smosh fic #smosh smut #smosh games #smosh pit #smosh squad #smoshblr

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peterman-spideyparker · 21 days

Text

Nightmares (Michael Kinsella x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! I've had this in my drafts for a while, and I have the day off today, so I figured I'd post it. I initially wrote this a a Frank Castle fic, but when I was reading it over after I was done, it really seemed to fit Michael better (again, obsessed with this man, and I've only seen the pilot episode of Kin). I hope you guys enjoy! :)

Summary: One of Michael's deepest fears comes to life in a nightmare, and he turns to you for comfort, needing to ground himself.

Warnings: Graphic nightmare (dead dove do not eat--Michael, Anna, and Reader tied up in the woods, Michael having to choose between you and Anna, violence, guns, Reader death in dream), swearing calming down Michael after a nightmare, smut (kissing, fingering, praise, biting/nibbling, p in v unprotected sex) cuddling, talking about fears

Other Characters: None

Word Count: 2,097

He doesn’t know where he is. His in some sort of forest, dead, brown, fragile leaves below him. He hears crying—these terrified sobs and whines of horror. Michael’s eyes shoot up and see you and Anna on your knees, your arms tied around your back with blinding headlights shining behind you. He looks up and sees a man standing behind you both, but he can’t make out their face. What he can distinctly recognize, though, is the gun in his hand.

“Choose!” a gruff voice shouts above the cries of the two people he loves most in the world.

“Let ‘em go!” Michael shouts, straining against the rope on his wrists. “Yer problem seems t’be with me, eh? So cut me loose and fight me.”

“You need to choose, Michael,” the voice says. Why can’t he see his face?

“Ye want me t’choose? Alright, me! I choose me!” he protests. “That’s who ye have a grudge against, right? So let them go and off me!”

"Choose!"

Leave begin to rustle beneath where you kneel, and Michael’s eyes flit over to you in a panic. You stand, your body shaking and tears streaming down your face. You lock eyes with him and mouth “I love you” before you turn around and face the faceless man.

“Let them go,” you tremble. “Hurt me, but spare them.”

“No!” Michael shouts, desperately trying to burst out of his restraints, but they only get tighter.

“She has the courage that you so frequently lack,” the faceless man says as Michael protests and Anna cries in fear.

“Anna, sweetheart, close your eyes,” you beg, doing your best not to cry. “It’ll be okay.”

“No, hey!” Michael shouts. “Let her go! Take me, instead! ‘M beggin you. Please! Please!”

“You could learn a thing or two from her.”

“Mikey, I love—.”

Michael cries out when his happens, the gunshot echoing deafeningly loud in the forest as you fall lifeless in the leaves in front of him. Blood is smeared on your head, spreading like a crimson sheet around you, and all Michael can do is cry before letting out a terrible scream at the top of his lungs.

He shoots up, finding himself in his bedroom, sheets in his lap and sweat sticking to his skin as his chest heaves for air.

“Michael,” you say gently, and he looks over to you with panicked eyes. You’re okay. You're alive. Here, with him, in his bed. “Mikey, it was just a nightmare. It’s okay. Everything’s alright.” You run a gentle, cool hand down his sweaty, burning skin. “Whatever it was wasn’t real. You’re safe.”

Michael lets out a shaky breath, his bleary eyes looking over your form before he leans in and wraps his arms around you, holding you tight and weeping into the crook of your neck.

“I thought I lost ya,” he weeps. “I can’t loose someone else I love. I-I-I can’t loose ya.”

“Oh, Michael,” you breathe, running your hand down the back of his hair. “I’m here, baby. I’m right here.”

Michael matches his breathing with yours, eventually calming down and pulling back to look at you with reddened eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Leaning in, Michael kisses you deeply. He knows you’re here in front of him, but something deeper in him is desperate to know that you’re actually here in his bed, that you’re not dead somewhere in the woods like what he saw in his dream. You accept his embrace for a bit, but you start to pull back as he tries to intensify the kiss.

“Michael,” you whisper. “Is this what you want? Or do you want to talk about it?”

“I can’t have someone take ya from me. I need’ya right now, love,” he mutters. “Please, just let me have this.”

“As long as you’re sure,” you nod, leaning back in for a kiss. When your lips meet again, Michael is more aggressive in his embrace, taking charge of how his lips crash against yours and how his tongue slips in deep to explore. He guides you down on the mattress, his hands squeezing into your body as he kisses you desperately, sure to leave little bruises behind. Michael’s lips explore every inch of flesh that they can find, pulling little whimpers of pleasure from you as he does so. Any other day, Michael would drag his kisses down and spend hours between your legs, but he needs to be close to your face. He needs to see the sparkle in your eyes, the flush of your cheeks, the little lines at the corner of your mouth when you smile at him. Leaning back up, he presses his lips to yours, kissing you deeply and rocking into the mattress. His hands grip the sleep shirt of his that’s on your body, sliding it off and tossing it somewhere to the side. You let out a soft moan as your breasts are exposed to the cool morning air, something that Michael happily dips down to kiss, lick, and suck on the pebbling flesh before moving back up and marking up your neck.

“Mikey!” you squeal breathily when he hits the right spot. Your nails dig into the soft flesh of his back, scratching angry lines down his body. Michael growls by your ear, nipping at the love bite before moving his mouth over yours and slip his tongue into your mouth. “Michael . . . baby!”

“I need ya,” he growls. “I need to bury my cock in that tight cunt of yers. Make those pretty sounds fall from yer mouth, make my name the only thing you can remember, stuff ya full.”

“Michael,” you whine.

“Ye want tha? Want me ta stretch ya full? Want my cum in ya?”

“Fuck, Mikey, yes, please!”

“Atta girl,” he coos. “Usin yer words like tha. Such a fuckin good girl fer me.”

Quickly shoving down his boxers, he pushes down the fabric just enough, giving himself a few pumps to make sure he’s nice and hard for you before sliding his hand up your thigh and grabbing onto your underwear. He yanks them clean off of you before fingering you, getting you ready. You cry out, your back arching as he pumps his fingers in and out to spread your slick around before moving back to fist his cock and spread your essence around.

“Ready, pet?” he pants.

“Yes,” you say breathily. “Yes, please!”

He presses a deep, passionate kiss to your lips, a moan pulling from your throat as his tongue explores your mouth before he slides in. Your lips part from one another’s as you cry out into the bedroom at the top of your lungs. You’re wet, sure, but not as wet as you usually are, so taking Michael is a bit more of a challenge. It feels like a tighter fit, and you can feel every cell between your legs as you stretch and try to take him. Michael feels it too, biting his lip before moving to bite your shoulder, which only makes the volume of your cries go louder. Your fingers sink into his back, leaving little crescent mark brands on his skin.

“Fuckin perfect,” he mutters, soothing the sting of his bite with his tongue and lips. “So tight. Such a nice cunt f’me, gripping my cock like tha.”

“Michael,” you whine.

“Say my name.”

“Michael!”

“Again.”

“Michael!”

“Who d’you belong to?”

“Michael!”

His pace moves from something tender and sensual to brutal and unrelenting, but you let him take what he needs until you’re screaming out so loud that you, him, and his neighbors know you’ll have a sore throat for days. You cum hard around his length, your entire body trembling with your orgasm as your mind goes fuzzy and you desperately cling to his body. Michael is like an animal as he ruts into you, chasing his high as he prolongs yours. The scruff of his bread scratches against your neck, and your hand slides up the back of his head to tug at the soft locks. He twists his head so his lips meet yours once more, full of lust, but intrinsically laced with passion and love. You nuzzle into his embrace and he bites his lip as he begins to feel the muscle in the lower abdomen tighten before he spills into you with a low grunt. You lie there, tangled together as a sweaty mess as you try to catch your breath. Languid, tired kisses are exchanged back and forth, and Michael can’t help but get lost in your sparkling eyes and how much he loves you, seeing that same love reflected back to him.

“You’re squishing me a little, Mikey,” you whisper, leaning up to kiss his nose.

“Oh,” he blushes. “Sorry, pet.”

You lean in for a kiss as he starts to pull out, rolling to the side but keeping you in his arms. You settle perfectly into his side, your hand warm on his chest.

“Are you okay, Michael?” you breathe into the dark bedroom, playing with his chest hair as you rest on one another.

“Awful dream,” he admits after a long silence. “Nightmare in every sense of the word. You . . . Ye died. Right in front of m’eyes, and there was nothin’ I could do ta save ya. I-I had ta choose between you an’ Anna, an’ I was beggin’ whoever it was t’take me instead. You stood up and you sacrificed yerself.”

He draws in a sharp, shaky breath between his teeth as you hold him tight.

“Baby, I’m,” you start, and you sound like you’re on the verge of tears. “I’m so sorry. So, so sorry.”

“I think about it all the time,” he continues. “Ways the both of ye could just be taken from me. What I’d do. How I’d live without either of ya, and . . .” He can’t even fathom a reality where you’re both not in his life. He’s already lost his wife, and there’s not a day that goes by where he doesn’t miss her or think about how different his life would be if she was still here. “I can’t loose either of ya. I think I’d die if I did.”

“No one is gonna take us from you, and I’m not leaving, I promise.”

“But what if it’s not yer choice? What if I fuck up again an—.” He sniffles. “I didn’t think love . . . Fuck, I didn’t think a normal life was in the cards f’me. Everything that’s happened is proof of tha’. An’ now, I’m startin’ to believe again that it might be possible. ‘M afraid it’ll come crashin’ down again like it did.”

“Can I let you in on a secret?” you whisper. He looks up at you through his big brown eyes in a way that you can only describe as something a puppy would do. “I’m mortified of losing you, too. Either you die, or someone runs a red and I get into an accident. I’m terrified of what it’ll be like if we’re not in each other’s lives. But I know that’d it have to be some act of God to separate us.” I lean down and kiss him. “I love you, Michael. Forever and always. And nothing will ever change that.”

He holds you tighter, allowing you to snuggle down on his chest so you can hear his heartbeat loud and clear.

“What if we just run away,” he whispers. It’s not a question to you so much as it is a thought he’s mulled over time and time again. “Start over. Have a new life somewhere where all this shit isn’t weighing down over our heads.”

“Mikey . . .”

“I mean it. We’d be safe anywhere but here.”

“You’d be away from Anna.”

“We’d take her with us.”

“Her life is here, Michael. If she wants to leave, it’s her decision.”

“I just need t’keep ya safe.”

“And you will. No matter where we are in the world, I know you’ll keep us safe.”

“Why d’ya have so much faith in me?”

You turn into him, the tip of your nose brushing against his neck. “Because I love you, and you love me. I know the man that you are, and who you’re working to be. You are a good man, Michael Kinsella. And I love you.”

“You rhyme when you get sappy,” he chuckles softly, giving you a squeeze.

You kiss his shoulder, chuckling. “It was unintentional. But true. And it got you to smile. It’s a win-win.”

Michael pulls the blanket up around your bodies, holding you close and placing a lingering kiss to your forehead.

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#michael kinsella #kin #kin amc #michael kinsella fanfic #michael kinsella fanfiction #michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x fem!reader #michael kinsella angst #michael kinsella smut #michael kinsella x reader angst #michael kinsella x reader smut #michael kinsella x fem!reader angst #michael kinsella x fem!reader smut

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thisisarcanereverie · 2 years

Text

Moments (Anakin Skywalker x Reader)

Hey, so this is my first Star Wars fic! I may get some things wrong with lore and how certain things work, but it's over 14k, filled with lots of fluff, angst, and smut so I don't know what to tell ya! I spent three days plus staying up to finish it so there may be a few mistakes.

WARNINGS/DISCLAIMERS: I don't own Star Wars nor most of these Characters. Master Kin is the only one. the story below contains Major Character death, mentions of torture, grief, smut (oral (fem receiving), hand jobs, nipple play, P in V sex (vanilla at first but the second one is like a twist cone situation), unprotected sex (don't be silly wrap your willy), pregnant sex, dirty talk (and a lot of it) (mainly from Anakin), porn with plot.) Angst, best friends to lovers situation, Anakin Skywalker being a daddy (no I will not apologize), Anakin Skywalker being a SIMP for his wife (reader), Anakin being a burnt out gifted kid with trauma, body worship.

There are moments in a person's life that they will never forget, even as age deteriorates their brain, those moments will remain.

Anakin Skywalker will always remember the first day he met you.

It was the day he first arrived at Coruscant with Master Qui Gon and at the time his Padawan Obi Wan Kenobi. The sandy haired boy was cold, colder than he had ever been, and he was scared that the Order wouldn’t accept him, but most of all he missed his mother. He missed her warm embraces and her kind smile, he missed the way she brushed his hair away from his face, and her kisses on his forehead, he missed her the only way a child can miss their mother. He was shivering and trying to cover up his sniffles as he tried to be brave. For her. He was so focused on remaining brave that he didn’t register the sound of footsteps headed his way until he saw a pair of boot clad feet stop right in front of him. He looked up and saw you. You were slightly taller than him, perhaps older too, he wasn’t sure, but he did think you looked just like the angels he always dreamt about.

“Are you cold?” Your voice was soft and kind as your eyes never left his. He nodded and sniffled again, not trusting his voice quite yet, you shrugged off your robe and held it out for him, “here take this.” Anakin hesitated at first, but your kind eyes allowed him to trust you. The fabric was thick and hung heavily off his shoulders.

“Thank you.” Anakin said as he reached out his hand, “I’m Anakin Skywalker.”

You accepted his small hand into yours.

“I’m (Y/n).”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anakin replayed that memory every night he was away from you. For the last ten years all he could think about was you. Even when you both resided in the temple he made every attempt to spend as much time with you as he could. But missions were getting longer and becoming more frequent for the both of you so the time you spent together was cutting shorter and shorter as the Separatists were causing more trouble. It had been months since he last saw you, he worried about you while he was away or the other way around. A darker part of him wanted to blame the Council for taking up so much of your time, but he knew it was your duty as well as his.

“Pack up Anakin,” Obi Wan said, already gathering his things from their camping site, “we’re going back to Coruscant. The mission is over and another is already awaiting us as soon as we arrive.” Anakin couldn’t help but groan as he proceeded to pack up his things as well.

“Don’t complain Anakin,“ Obi warned as he finished packing waiting for his young padawan to finish packing up himself, “it could be worse.”

“Oh yeah, how?” Anakin sassed, Obi did his best to hide the smug smile on his face. He was going to wait and surprise Anakin with the news until they got to the temple but decided against it.

“They won’t let Master Kin and his Padawan join us.”

Anakin whipped his head to look at his Master, finding the relatively young man had no hints of dishonesty anywhere on his face. Excitedly, the young Padawan walked towards his Jedi Mentor.

“Is it true Obi Wan,” asked Anakin hopefully, “(Y/n) will be joining us?”

“Control yourself my young Padawan,” Obi warned semi seriously, “your friend and her Master will be joining us on a mission regarding a Senator. The sooner we get to Coruscant the sooner we can get the debriefing over with and the more details we’ll have about the mission.” Before Obi Wan had even finished that sentence Anakin had packed up and was ready to go in record time. He was already practically running towards their ship which was still a few miles ahead.

“C’mon Master!” Anakin exclaimed, “Don’t want to keep the Council waiting!”

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Turns out they were on security detail for Senator Amidala, who was currently having attempts taken on her life. If it was just him and Obi-Wan, Anakin might have complained about how Jedi were above security detail. But since you were joining them, he decided to let it be.

Anakin waited impatiently in the elevator with Obi-Wan, who by now was getting a little annoyed at the impatience of the man beside him who considers a brother.

“You seem a little on edge.” Obi Wan observed. Anakin fidgets a little with his dark robes, trying to make himself a little more presentable.

“Not at all.” He lied. Obi Wan scoffed.

“I haven’t felt you this tense since we fell into that nest of Gundarks.” Obi wan remarked. Anakin looked at his Master with some laughter.

“You fell into that nightmare Master,” Anakin laughed, “I rescued you, remember?”

“Oh…yes.” Obi laughed as he remembered that moment. He looked over to Anakin again, and mentally remarked on how well Anakin had grown up. He was taller now, taller than him, his baby face was no more and he had turned into a man, almost overnight. But Obi-Wan’s Padawan still had much to learn, Anakin was still impulsive and emotional. Much like now with small beads of sweat began to form on his forehead.

“You’re sweating,” Obi wan calmly stated, “relax, take a deep breath.”

“I haven’t seen her in almost a year, Master,” Anakin excitedly said, “and I haven’t seen Senator Amidala in ten.” From what Anakin could recall, he knew that Padme was a good queen to her people, and alright for a politician. If her plans for the senate went through it would take a load off of the Jedi Order and there would be more time to relax and more time for him to spend with you.

A knowing smile rested on Obi Wan's face as he could practically read the thoughts going through Anakin’s mind right now.

The elevator doors opened and they were immediately bombarded by Jar Jar who was thrilled to see them. Jar Jar shook their hands and led them to where you and Padme were currently looking over at the balcony. Anakin swears by the Maker that everytime he sees you, you become lovelier than when he last saw you. The setting sun illuminated you and gave you a sort of halo, while the breeze moved your hair ever slightly. Sunlight suited you well.

“Mesa palos is here,” Jar Jar announced, “lookie, lookie senator! Desa Jedi arriven!”

Anakin tears his eyes from you to look at Padme, who indeed was still a beauty. Her brown hair was done up and fine clothes adorned her. But she was nowhere near how beautiful you were to Anakin.

You and Padme made your way to where Obi Wan and Anakin stood. Obi wan bowed as Anakin still looked at you, trying to contain his excitement at seeing you again. And from the looks of it, you were struggling to do the same as well.

“It’s a great pleasure to see you again, milady.” Obi Wan greeted Padme and reached out a hand for her to shake.

“It has been far too long Master Kenobi.” Padme shook his hand and said gracefully before looking over his shoulder to see a familiar mess of sandy hair.

“Ani?” She asked in astonishment, “my goodness you’ve grown.”

“So have you,” Anakin said, “more beautiful I mean.” His blue eyes dart in your direction.

“It’s been awhile Anakin.” You say as you reach out a hand, “how was your mission on Anison?”

He takes your hand, “long and boring I’m afraid.” Anakin would tell you all about it later but for right now there were too many eyes and ears. He couldn’t say as he wished to, he couldn’t be too casual with you, despite how much he wanted to. With the way the group talked and smiled it almost felt like a reunion of sorts, despite the fact that you and Padme had never met before. Before long Obi Wan motioned for the three of you to sit on the couches and discuss business. Anakin knew he should be paying attention, and he was somewhat, but right now he just felt at peace; with you sitting beside him.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Anakin paced around the sitting room, for the past few weeks he’s not slept well. His dreams were filled of his mother, nothing new there, but now she was in pain; calling out to him but he couldn't reach her. It was a nightmare, at least, that’s what he tried to convince himself. Obi Wan was on patrol duty along with your master, so he was all alone. Or so he thought.

“You look tired An,” Your voice brings him out of his head and back to where he wants to be. With you.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Angel.” He could see you try to stifle the blush that rose to your face to no avail.

“If anyone caught you using that nickname they would get the wrong idea.”

“We wouldn’t want that now do we?” Anakin teased. You decided to join him on the balcony, enjoying the night air for a moment before looking at him the way you used to when you were kids and he had a secret. Anakin sighed before looking back out to the city lights of Coruscant, he knew it was futile to evade your stare.

“I don’t know why but I keep dreaming about her.” He finally gave in.

“Your mother?” You asked gently to which he responded with a nod. You held his hand, your thumb

brushing over his knuckles. “Do you want to talk about it?” He shook his head as you told him it was alright, trusting that he would talk to you when he was ready.

‘I’d much rather dream of you’, Anakin thought as you led him back inside where it was warmer. Knowing that even after ten years he never got used to the cold of this planet. The warmth of your hand and the gentleness of your eyes comforted him in ways you’ll never know. He couldn’t help but think that every time he was apart from you it only felt like he was half a person, but every touch, every kind word, every moment spent in your presence made him whole. You brought out a part of him he never knew he had, just being around you for even a moment was like breathing clean air for the first time. It was addicting.

However, with every high there comes a low. Anakin would give anything to hold you, to have you in a way that was forbidden by the Jedi Order. Something in Anakin stirred as he thought of how ludicrous that law was, Jedi were encouraged to be compassionate, so why shouldn’t they be encouraged to love as well? Was it that far of a leap that compassion and love weren’t so different.

“I just put the Senator to bed,” You said breaking him from his thoughts, “her and I discussed this and she came up with the idea to use her as a sort of bait. Luring the assassin into thinking that she is unguarded, I programmed R2 to notify us of an intruder immediately.”

“It’s a risk.” Anakin said, almost contemplating if it was too much of one.

“I know,” you said, “but don’t we want to catch the assassin so that she may go about her life?” Your logic was understandable. “With our talents combined we should be able to sense everything that goes on in her room.”

“That’s true.” Anakin agreed, it’s something he would come up with on his own so of course he would agree. “But our Masters would have our heads if they knew.”

“They’ll be on patrol for the next half hour I assume,” You said, “an hour and a half if they have a conversation.”

“They do love to talk don’t they?” Anakin mused as he sat on the cerulean sofa and you followed.

“I believe they love to hear themselves talk.” You both laughed as your masters were prone to giving you both lectures. You soon fall into a comfortable silence, another thing Anakin loved about you. Silence with you never made him uneasy, he never felt the need to fill the silence with useless words. For a while you both just sat there, watching the hover cars zoom past the window, your hand in his. The sound of the opening of the door alerted you as you ripped your hand away from his, Anakin had to fight himself to not grab your hand back.

The door opened to reveal a dark haired man, who towered over the auburn one.

“Masters,” you greeted them as Anakin followed suit. Slightly annoyed at them for ruining the moment.

“(Y/n), why are you not in the Senators room?” Master Kin asked.

“She claimed she could not sleep while I watched her.” You said swiftly, it was not a whole lie. She truly said she could not sleep with you watching her.

“Then you should be standing guard outside her door.” Master Kin responded.

“R2 is programmed to alert us if there is an intruder.” Anakin quickly came to your defense.

“There are many other ways to kill a Senator.” Obi Wan said, just then uneasiness fell over the group. Sensing something malicious coming from Padme’s room.

“I sense it too.” Obi Wan said as you all raced to Padme’s room to reveal two worm like creatures slithering over her. Anakin was quick enough to slay them before they bit her, the sudden commotion though led the sleeping beauty to wake up. You quickly note the sound of whirring coming from the window. Before you could even say anything the auburn Jedi Master had hurled himself through the window. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was that his Padawan was impulsive or if it was the Master himself.

“Anakin!” You exclaimed, “You follow Obi Wan, I'll stay with the Senator.”

The sandy haired man nodded before racing past the scared handmaidens and startled guards to follow his impulsive Master.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“We are concerned for our Padawans,” Obi wan states as he walks with Master Windu, Master Yoda, and his friend Master Kin, “we don’t believe they’re ready to be given this assignment on their own yet.”

“I have to agree with Master Obi Wan,” Kin agreed, “they’re both still too young and too impulsive.”

“The council is confident in their decision Obi Wan,” Yoda dismissively states.

“They both have exceptional skills.” Master Windu says as Obi and Kin both shared worried glances.

“Yet they still have much to learn Master.” Kin says, he would never admit it to your face. But he thought of you fondly and didn’t want you hurt.

“Anakin’s skills have made him arrogant,” Obi Wan states, “the need to feed his ego may prove to jeopardize the mission.”

“A flaw more common among Jedi,” Yoda says before humming in disapproval, “too sure of themselves they are.” his beady green eyes trained on the two Jedi Masters in front of him, “Even the older, more experienced ones.”

Windu places a hand on Obi Wan’s shoulders, “Remember Obi Wan, if the prophecy is true, your apprentice is the only one who can bring the Force back into balance.” With one last nod Windu and Yoda start to walk away to another Jedi Council meeting.

“And what of mine?” Kin asks them, “why does (Y/n) need to go as well?”

“Who do you think is going to keep Anakin balanced?”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

It has been well over a week since you and Anakin arrived on Naboo. Strangely enough, you felt like you belonged here. Especially in the lake country where Padme resided. Here she didn’t need much protection so in reality it was much like a vacation for you and Anakin. Every morning you woke up to the sound of the lake and breathed in that clean air, lightly fragranced by the flower gardens nearby. Here it was different. The beds were soft, the air was sweet, and everything was beautiful. You felt at peace here, you noticed, in Naboo you felt calm.

You looked out at the lake letting your mind wander as you watched the water move. You don’t know when Anakin joined you, but he often did when you looked out at the lake. Much like you he seemed happy here, more relaxed. He still wore his heavy robes while Padme had lent you some of her clothes. Claiming that you didn’t need to be so formal while you were here. You were embarrassed to admit it, but before this you had never worn a dress. At least, not like the one you were wearing now, a soft yellow with embroidery. Your holster for your saber hung off of your waist still, just in case. Your hair hung in a loose half up half down style, just enough to keep your hair from blocking your vision. Every morning here Anakin thanked the Maker, because he had never seen you like this before. He enjoyed seeing you this way, the sun glinting off your exposed shoulders, the way your hair moved freely in the soft breeze, and the small smile that lit up your face. If Anakin had to describe what heaven would look like, this would be it.

“Do you ever think about having children?”

Your sudden question threw him off guard, stuttering for just a moment before regaining his composure. He looked out to where your gaze rested on the water, a small family of ducks made its way across the blue river.

“What do you mean by that?” He asked.

“I mean,” You stop for a second, biting your lip before continuing, “I don’t know if I could do it.” Anakin looked over at you and saw the sadness in your eyes, one he had never seen before, “the Jedi aren’t supposed to have attachments like love or a family. Yet we are to repopulate, to breed and then abandon the offspring to some orphanage or family until they are old enough for the Council to sense the Midi-Chlorians in them and then rip them away from all they ever knew for training.” tears started forming in your eyes, “it’s cruel.” Anakin held your hand as you wiped away the few tears that escaped your eyes. “I’m sorry I’m just being silly.” You apologized.

“It’s not silly,” Anakin assured you, “if none of that were in the way. The Jedi Council’s rules about attachments and love, would you want to be a mother?” You pondered that question for a moment, watching as the mother duck tended to her ducklings. You tried to imagine that kind of life. One where you were free to love and to be loved without fear. You smiled as you imagined your hypothetical children running around the lake country. Playing in the water, their messy mops of sandy hair and bright blue eyes like their father who calls you Angel.

“Yes,” you admit, “yes I would.” and a piece of your heart broke.

“I don’t like sand,” Anakin admitted, for a moment you wonder what he could be on about. “It’s coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere.” You laugh a little as he passionately states the last bit. A moment passes as you both look around you, the wind blowing through the trees, the sound of birds happily chirping. It was like a dream, a very happy dream. “Not like here,” Anakin continues, “here everything is soft.” his eyes land on your frame, taking you in. Subtly biting his lip as he just looks at you like a dehydrated man looks at water. “And smooth,” tentatively Anakin’s large hands ghost over the skin of your hands. He gently moves them upward, merely grazing the exposed skin of your shoulders. Leaving goosebumps and electricity in their wake as his touch lingers on the gentle curve of your neck. You look at him, his blue eyes betraying his feelings for you. Meanwhile yours does the same. You don’t quite remember who leaned in first, but you do remember feeling his smile against your lips. You remember he tasted sweet like chocolate and something distinctly him. All of your nerves ignite as you feel him, you feel his touches getting braver as you yourself bring your hands to his face. Your thumbs gently brush the apples of his flushed cheeks and you remarked how soft he felt, how right his lips on yours felt. You silently wished the moment to never end, to live in that one moment forever would be enough.

But moments don’t last forever.

Within seconds you forced yourself away, dropping your hands as you moved to put some space between you. Already missing the weight of his arms around you and the soft plush of his lips which were now slightly swollen from your kiss.

“We can’t do this Anakin,” you tried to say, more to convince you then himself.

“Why not?” Anakin asked, the tone of his voice almost pained.

“We both made a commitment to the Order,” You said, again more to yourself than to him, “one not so easily broken.” You looked everywhere except for him yet he was the thing your eyes were drawn to the most. Like a magnet.

“It doesn’t have to be like that.” Anakin says, “Angel, we don’t have to stay.”

“I may not,” You laugh bitterly, “but you do.” You take a step back as he took a step towards you, “You are the Chosen One. You have to stay with the Jedi Order to bring balance back to the force. To bring an end to the Sith.” Your heart breaks as you continue to step away from him, “I cannot be the person that takes away the Light's last hope.” You turn away, walking swiftly to a place furthest away from him. To a place where you can cry and hold your breaking heart in peace. Meanwhile Anakin watches you, regretting every moment he does not run after you.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Things had more or less been normal after, You don’t talk as much to Anakin or him to you. There is this polite distance, and coldness and fear that wasn’t there before. Even Padme noticed it. She had grown quite fond of you both and considered you close friends, so it pained her to see this drastic change in dynamic between you. Padme had asked you once what had happened only for you to dismiss her worries and push her away. When it was clear you weren’t talking, she talks to Anakin. Who told her in detail what had happened.

Padme had just assumed you both were in a secret relationship of sorts, but hearing all of this through Anakin had proved that while you both may love each other. The situation at hand made it impossible for you both to be together and it broke her heart. While Anakin may not understand why you pushed him away, for Padme it made perfect sense. She tried explaining it to him, that you were just trying to think logically, but nothing was getting through to him. So, in true Amidala fashion, she knew she had to take matters into her own hands.

She set up a nice dinner, to celebrate the one month anniversary of your arrival to Naboo. There was a nice dinner and candle light, and she made sure you wore a nice dress. That your hair had been braided nicely and that you wore a necklace. Meanwhile she had encouraged Anakin to lose his heavy robes and wear something lighter.

She ate with you and suggested drinks in the second sitting area. Which was smaller, more intimate. Padme had already lit the fireplace and set candles out. She excused herself early on, insisting that you both finish your drinks without her.

Silence filled the room, you had not been alone with Anakin since that day all those weeks ago. If you were on Padme duty he was somewhere else, and if he was on Padme duty he knew to avoid the balcony where you stared off at the lake. And on those rare occasions where both of you were off, you avoided each other by staying in your respective rooms. But now here you were, and the other couldn’t be avoided. You were the first to finish your drink but as you were about to excuse yourself, the sound of Anakin’s voice stopped you.

“You were my first friend within the temple,” Anakin admitted with a slight tremor in his voice, “had it not been for you and Obi Wan I would’ve felt so alone. For these past ten years I have done nothing but love you, with every bit of my heart I do. It is too late to deny it nor do I want to. You are embedded into my soul and you haunt my bones. I do not know how you manage to make me feel both complete bliss and utter agony at the same time but you do. I am tormented day and night by the kiss we shared.” Anakin stands up and makes his way to you, his large hands grasping your shoulders. “You once asked me if I ever wanted children. After that day I tried to imagine what that life would be like. I tried to imagine every other woman but I could not, until I imagined you. Because my thoughts always, always come back to you. I dreamt of a life where you held our child in your arms, where you sang them old Jedi hymns to sleep.” his voice lowers to a whisper as you feel his warm breath ghost over the slope of your neck and sigh as his hands loosen their grip on your shoulders to gently dance across your arms. “Where I held you every night in my arms, or me in yours.” his lips ghost your flushed cheek as your thoughts start to become muddled. “Where I kissed you and you didn’t pull away.” his lips press softly against the underside of your jaw, “and where you loved me too.”

You pull away enough to look at him, the dim light of the fireplace illuminating his features in golden light and harsh shadows. He looked like a man haunted. Without any more thought or willpower anymore, you grabbed his face and brought his lips to meet yours. Unlike the kiss before at the lake, this one was more confident, more passionate. It was lips, teeth, and tongue. Your hands grope at each other for something, anything, to hang on to. Something more powerful than electricity ran through you as you led him back to the sofa. Gasping lightly as he pulled you on top of him.

“You make the most beautiful sounds,” Anakin quietly said as he kissed your chin and moved his lips down to the column of your neck, nipping at the pulse. You whimper slightly at the sensation, you breath out breathy moans as his lips continue their assault while your hands try to find purchase anywhere. With each kiss he placed you felt both electrified and greedy for more. You don’t register Anakin lowering the strap of your dress until you feel his plush lips kiss where the strap used to be.

“An,” You sighed as his lips left your body for just a moment. His eyes met yours, only a thin rim of the blue that you loved remained, holding promises of the night. Neither of you spoke, too afraid of what the other had to say. Instead you lowered the other strap of your dress, you untied the back of the fine garment as well. Letting it fall, leaving you only in the necklace your dear friend gave you. Anakin did the same, undressing before you, stumbling quite a bit as his eyes never left your frame and yours on his.

You both stood there for a moment, admiring each other. You traced every scar you found on him with love and care, no matter how small. Your fingers danced along his chest and along his shoulders. Admiring how the dim light of the candles and fireplace around you bathed him a soft light. Contouring him to look as though he had been carved by the Maker himself. Meanwhile Anakin was at a loss, he usually had so much to say. But right now he was enveloped by you. In the dim light you looked ethereal, and despite the fact that he had always wanted you; the way your fingers danced along every scar on him, it feels as though you're healing them. Making the scars fade until they are nothing, making him feel new and pure, this has changed his want into a need, a hunger only you can satisfy. He needed you like the very air he breathed, like the ground he stood on and the gravity that kept him there. A moment passes, before his lips descend on yours again. Tasting you, feeling the way you molded together like you were always meant to be.

His hands no longer ghost as he feels you fully. Lowering you onto the soft carpet below, his lips begin to explore again. Leaving a trail of fire and desire in their wake. The plush of his lips never leave your skin as he trails down, his hands never leaving your skin either. He grips at the fleshy part of your thighs urging them apart slowly as his lips travel further south of your body. Your breathing becomes uneven as he teases you, kissing and nipping the inside of your thighs, fingers toying with the bundle of nerves in between. Pleasure shoots through you and it is both too much and not enough.

“Anakin,” Your pleading whisper brings him back from his enjoyment as he sees the desperation in your eyes. Unable to hold himself back any longer, he gives in to his desire. You couldn’t stop the moan that escaped from you as his lips made contact with the swollen bundle of nerves he had been previously toying with. He let out a guttural moan as he tasted you on his tongue. Anakin swears he’s never tasted anything so sweet.

The vibrations of his moans make your arch your back against the plush carpet below you in pleasure as your death grip on the carpet tightens as Anakin continues to worship you. Your chest heaves as his tongue does unimaginable things to do, Your eyes never leave his as you remark in your mind how much he looked like a starving man being served a meal. His eyes only ever leave you to roll back in his head as he closes them to savor the taste of you. Soon enough you feel a knot, a weight really forming in your lower abdomen. You quietly whisper his name repeatedly like a prayer only he could understand. His tongue traces you, tracing the same message on repeat, as you struggle to make it out through your pleasure.

Mine.

You let out a silent scream as you feel the knot in you coming undone, but Anakin doesn’t let up on his ministrations, continuing to claim you as your body spasms in prolonged pleasure. It’s borderline painful as Anakin greedily laps up what all you were willing to give. His heart skipped a beat as he felt how slick you became from his tongue alone; by now he was throbbing, begging for some kind of release.

“Anakin.” You whimpered, despite having your world shaken and taken beneath you, you couldn’t help it. You were selfish, you wanted more of him, as much as he would give in this moment. The sandy haired man kisses his way back to your lips, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. Your hands remove themselves from their death grip on the carpet to cradle his face. Thumbs grazing over his cheek as his hands find your breasts. Massaging them, bringing you pleasure as you feel yourself wanting him more, letting out a soft gasp as his thumbs brush over your pebbled nipple.

“Anakin,” You whimpered again, wanting more still. Your eyes hold his as you pull away enough to express your needs.

“I want you Anakin,” you say.

“Want me to do what Angel,” Anakin murmurs against your lips, “tell me.” your cheeks flush at the nickname he gives you, despite him calling you that before, there was now a new layer to it that wasn’t there before. Or perhaps, that layer had always been there, you just didn’t want to see it.

“I want you inside me,” you say, “I want you.” Now it was Anakin’s turn to blush at your confession, with one last look he silently asks you if you are sure. For you to respond with a gentle kiss to his lips, so different from those passionate, lust fueled ones from before. It was gentle, and soft and tasted faintly of you. Everytime Anakin thought he couldn’t possibly fall in love with you more, you proved him wrong. He reciprocated the kiss with more enthusiasm as you felt him line himself up.

You wrap your arms around him as you feel him fill you, slowly, letting you feel every inch of himself. The sensation, although unfamiliar, wasn’t unpleasant. You could feel his force and yours intertwine in a dance of their own as he bottomed out inside you. And as you looked at the man above you, and felt his heart beating against his chest and yours, felt his force with yours. You wondered if this is why Jedi were forbidden to love, because every feel and touch was intoxicating, addicting, and if you had it your way the rest of the galaxy would just disappear. Leaving just this, leaving you and Anakin as one.

Anakin felt himself tremble as he bit back the urge to ravish you completely, savagely even. You were perfect, you were an angel sent for him, you were everything to him. For ten years now he’s felt cold, like some piece of him was missing and now, as your arms were wrapped around him and your bodies were intertwined; he felt warm, he felt full.

Slowly he began to move, dragging his cock out of you slowly, letting you feel him retreat before thrusting himself back into you. Anakin had wanted to do this slowly, to make love to you, worship you like the angel you were. However, each pleasurable sound that came out of you ate away at what self control he had left; not that he had much to begin with.

Each thrust shot electricity down your spine, you had never felt so full in your life. You were surrounded by him, you could smell the familiar spiced scent of him and taste the saltiness of his skin, you could feel him inside you, hitting that one spot that made you see stars repeatedly and without mercy. You could even feel him in your soul, clawing at you, screaming, letting you know that he was there. And he always will be.

Anakin let go of your breasts as he laid back on his haunches, helping you up from the plush ground and into his lap. From this angle your chest was pressed against his and his hands gripped the flesh of your ass so tightly you were positive his fingerprints would leave bruises. Reminders, really, of tonight.

Your hands grip the hair at the back of his head, tugging it, as he pounds up into you. In this position he was impossibly deeper into than before. Tears prick the corners of your eyes as he continuously hits that one spot that makes your back arch and toes curl. You whisper his name, like he was the only thing keeping you tethered down to the ground. You press your forehead against his as he speaks words of encouragement to you.

“Keep going Angel, you can take it can’t you? I know you can, my beautiful, kind Angel. You’re so perfect, you have no idea how beautiful and perfect you are.”

His pelvis kept rubbing against your clit, adding to the pressure that settled in your abdomen. Your sweat slicked bodies hanging onto each other for dear life. You were close, you were so close. You just needed One. Little. Push.

“Cum for me Angel,” Anakin whispered, “let me feel you.”

And there it was.

Your vision turned white as your back arched into him, his lips descending on your throat as he kept up his pace. He laid you back down onto the plush carpet as he moved your legs to rest on his forearms. You were pilant as he continued to pound into you. Your walls were still spasming as he drilled into you, chasing his release all the while admiring the blissed out expression on your face. Anakin was close, so close that his entire body felt like it was on fire.

“Anakin,” You whimpered as you cradled his face, “cum inside me my love, let me feel you cum inside.”

He was done for.

Anakin had one last thrust in him before he felt himself unload deep within you, practically falling on top of you. Both of your chests heaving, his head rested on your chest; listening to the rapid beating of your heart while your fingers found his hair, brushing through the damp, sandy locks, absentmindedly playing with his Padawan braid. And for a while you both laid there, basking in the afterglow, even after he softened in you there he still was. For a minute Anakin thought he could sleep peacefully that night, as long as he could hear your heartbeat and hold you in his arms the bad dreams would go away.

But it didn’t happen like that.

Eventually he slipped out of you, and helped you dress as best as he could before practically carrying you to the closest bedroom, his. He wet a washcloth to wash you and himself up before finally laying down with you in his bed. Tomorrow you will talk, you will figure out where to go from there if there was anywhere to go. But for right now you were his, and he was yours. And nothing could ever tear you apart.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

You weren’t sure what to do anymore.

The morning after that night you woke up to an empty bed, at first your heart had sunk only to see Anakin on the balcony. He told you the dreams he was having weren’t dreams, but visions. That his mother was in danger and calling out to him, that he needed to rescue her. And you weren’t about to let him go off alone, with no back up. So you gathered Padme and a few other guards and made your way to Tatooine. It was very much how Anakin had described it, the heat was hot, sand was everywhere and there were two suns in the sky.

You both learned that his mother had been freed and married a farmer on the other side of Mos Eisley.

When you both got there, you were met with kind people. Cliegg, Owen, and his girlfriend, Beru. You even got to meet the cyborg that Anakin had built to serve his mother, C3PO. Turns out a month prior the Tuskcan’s had raided the farm and took his mother. Anakin had immediately gone to look for his mother while you stayed behind to watch over Padme. You spent all night pacing outside the farm, waiting anxiously for him, debating on whether or not to look for him. But once the two suns began to rise over the horizon you could see his speeder come into your sight. But the closer he got the more you could feel his anguish and sorrow. You felt a tear prick the corner of your eye as the feeling of his grief overtook you.

He had been back for all of a few days and had not spoken a word to anyone, not even you. While Owen and Beru were handling the arrangements for her burial, Cliegg did what he could. Meanwhile Anakin had holed himself up in the workshop, fixing old droids and tools. Something you knew he did to take his mind off things.

You and Padme helped where you could, even making lunch and bringing it down to Anakin. More often than not he didn’t eat, unless it came from you.

Today you brought him down his lunch while Padme dealt with the clean up. You see the familiar scene of Anakin fixing something, dark circles beneath his eyes, cheeks sunken in as his skin looked pale. Malnourished.

“I brought you something,” you said gently, setting down the tray beside him. He did not look you in the eyes as he continued to fix the thing in front of him.

“The shifter broke,” he started, “life seems so much simpler when you’re fixing things.” he took out a few wires before continuing, “I’m good at fixing things, always was.” You hear his voice start to tremble as you gently place your hand on his shoulder. His fingers stop as he grips the metal table in front of him tightly, as you feel his shoulders start to tremble, “but I couldn’t…” he looks at you, for the first time in days you could see how swollen they had become, how bloodshot they were. “Why did she have to die?” He asked with so much venom in his voice it startled you. “Why couldn’t I save her?! I know I could have!”

“Anakin Skywalker,” You say firmly, bringing your hands to cradle his face, forcing him to look into your eyes, “this is not your fault. There are just some things you can’t control.” You thumbs brush over his tear stained cheeks soothingly, “you are not all powerful.”

“Well I should be!” Anakin exclaimed, removing himself from your touch and you allowed him. He turned his back to you as he fiddled absently with another trinket, “someday I will be.” he paused, “I am the chosen one, and someday I will be powerful enough to put an end to the Sith and bring balance to the Force. Someday, I will become the most powerful Jedi ever!” He turns to look at you, his eyes blazing with an anger and pain you’ve never seen before, “I will be so powerful that I will learn to stop people from dying.” Your heart breaks as you see truly what the expectations of others, including yourself, have done to him. All of this pressure to be great and powerful, to bring balance to the Force. The weight of not just a world, but an entire galaxy hung on his shoulders and has been sitting there since he was 9 years old. It has corroded his self esteem.

“It’s all Obi Wan’s fault!” Anakin loudly said, “he’s jealous and he’s holding me back!” he threw the trinket he had been toying with at a wall. You knew he didn’t mean what he said, he was hurt and angry and needed someone to blame and right now it’s Obi Wan. But you knew the truth. Anakin considered Obi Wan to be his brother and his father all in one. Closer to him than most.

However you knew there was more than he was letting on, you’ve felt it since the day he came back. A regret, a darkness tainted his eyes.

“There’s something else,” you started walking closer to him, “what happened An?”

He explained it all to you, how he slaughtered them all, not just the men but the defenseless women and children as well. How scared he was of himself and the rage he was capable of. By the end of it he regretted ever telling you, fearful of your reaction. Would you hate him now? Did you lose you too?

You surprised him as your arms wrapped around him, telling him that everything was going to be alright. That you weren’t scared of him and how sorry you were for the expectations that were unfairly thrusted upon him. Anakin let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in as his arms wrapped around you too, pressing you to him as he buried his face in your hair. Letting it all out, every choked sob and prayer, begging for a forgiveness not from you but from the Maker. Hoping that he would still deem him worthy of the angel he sent for him.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

That had all been half a week ago, you had buried Anakin’s mother and soon after received a message from Obi Wan who was in trouble in Geonosis. Which according to the map, had only been half a parsec away. Well you both went to save his Master, leaving Padme to her guards and to the Lars family until you returned. Which had been against Council order’s but you were the quickest on the scene, and where better to leave Padme than in the middle of a nowhere planet so close to the action that they wouldn’t even dream of her being so close.

You were arrogant to believe the rescue mission would have been so easy, having been quickly captured. But in the end, all ended up ok– well as ok as can be. Anakin lost his forearm and was given a scar above his brow by Count Dooku. Meanwhile you have your own new and cool scars from the battle. You both had been given the all clear to escort Padme back to Naboo. It wasn’t until both you and Anakin were in the cockpit alone together that you realized that you haven't had the chance to talk about what happened, before everything went down. It was never the right time, but if anything of this adventure and the adventure yet to come has taught you anything; it’s that you love this man. For all his many faults and his many blessings, you loved him. You do not think you could go on another day without it being said. You knew his feelings for you ran deep, that he loved you just as much as you loved him.

“Anakin,” you softly call him, he turned on the auto-piolet as he turned to face you. Within seconds your lips descended on his firmly, romantically, with your thumb gracing the edge of his jawline. Before you placed your forehead against his, eyes never leaving him.

“I love you too.” You confessed as you placed another kiss on his cheek, “I don’t think I could’ve gone another day without telling you that.” You kissed him again fleetingly, “I don’t care if we have to hide it, I don’t care if they kick me out or deal out the heaviest punishment they have. I don’t care, as long as I am with you they can throw their stones.” His hands grip yours as tears prick at his eyes. Anakin gives you the biggest smile as he pulls you in for the most passionate kiss he has ever given you. Leaving you both with flushed cheeks and swollen lips. He pressed his forehead to yours.

“Will you marry me, my Angel?” He asked, your eyes widen before the biggest smile adorns your face, brightening the cockpit around him.

“Yes, my love.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were married soon after, due to the secret nature of your marriage only trusted friends were there. Padme, 3PO, and R2D2. Padme gave you her white lace dress, with a veil to match. While Anakin wore his signature dark robes, you were married on Naboo and would soon celebrate 3 years together next month.

The Clone Wars took a heavy toll on both you and Anakin, you both graduated and became Jedi Knights/General’s. Your occupations made it hard to find time for each other, let alone for intimacy and yet you made it work.

You stood worriedly by the gates with all the other politicians. You were worried that the rumors were true, that Anakin had died in battle. You had unconsciously let your hand rest on your stomach, You let out a worried sigh as you knew your time in the Jedi Order was coming to an end, and soon. Due to its early nature you weren’t showing just yet, however, you worried that it was obvious. Like a big arrow was above your head in neon lights. However your fears were soon put to rest as you saw your beautiful Anakin making his way towards the crowd you were in. His hair had grown longer as he grew more muscular, more refined. He truly was a man in his prime. And Anakin couldn’t place it, but you seemed to be glowing as he saw you in the crowd, it was a beautiful glow.

After making some polite chit chat with a few of the politicians you finally managed to pull him away. With the excuse of escorting him to his chambers to discuss important business. No sooner had you closed and locked the door of his chambers his lips were on you, his hands finding purchase on your hips. He kissed you as though it was the first time, with the same level of love and care.

“I’ve missed you my Angel.” Anakin breathily said as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“And I, you, my love.” You said, equally out of breath. For a moment you stayed like that in the silence, you were tense, worried about his reaction. You’ve discussed children before, but that was years ago and you don’t know if his heart had changed.

“What’s wrong my Angel,” Anakin asked worriedly, “did something happen?”

“Yes,” you admitted, luring Anakin to sit on the couch as you proceed to tell him, “something did.”

“Are you ok?” Anakin asked worriedly, his eyes quickly looking over you to see if you were bleeding or if a new scar had appeared, “did someone hurt you?”

“No, quite the opposite.” You say, taking a deep breath before ripping the bandaid off, “I’m leaving the Jedi Order.”

“You’re what?” Anakin asked shocked, “why?” He was already planning the disappearance of anyone in the Order who may have displeased you enough for you to turn in your resignation.

“Because I don’t want our children born in the Order.”

“Cause you don’t want ou-” Anakin started to say before his eyes widened, almost comically, “o-our uh our children?” He repeated as you nodded trying hard to stifle the giggles erupting from you, “does this mean?” You nodded again. A moment passes after that, a very long moment before Anakin's eyes were full of tears and a smile lit up his face as he gently placed his hand over your stomach. His children…You were carrying his children.

“When did you find out?” He asked, feeling the force was already strong with them.

“A couple days ago.” You confessed. “I’m about two months in.”

“So that means-” Anakin trails off knowing conception must have happened the night before he left.

“Yeah,” you said, knowing where his train of thought was. You played with the ends of his hair as he continues to digest. “I’ve saved up enough credits to buy a small home in the lake country on Naboo. I was going to buy it so that we could have a place to get away every once in a while, escape from the council and their watchful eyes. But plans have changed, and I want to have our children on Naboo, where we made our vows.” The small home was beautiful, nowhere near what you stayed in while residing with Padme, but it felt like home. It was shaded by the tall trees, and flowers bloomed everywhere. The soil was good for planting vegetables, and the market wasn’t far away. Just a few miles walk, and Padme lived close by. The home had a deck where you could sit and watch the waves and overall it was perfect. You were already in the process of buying it when you made your discovery.

“I-I’ve got to tell the Council about my resignation.” Anakin says already getting up to inform them when you grabbed your hand to stop him.

“No,” you said hurriedly, “not yet anyway.” You lead him back to sit on the couch as you join him. “I will go on ahead and set up for the baby, you are too close to catching Grievous and this mysterious Sith Lord to pack it all in now. Do what you can, I’ll be waiting for you when you’re done.” His head leans on your shoulder as he sighs deeply.

“Must I?” he asks, “couldn’t I just stop, leave and be with my loving wife who is carrying the product of our love.”

“I want nothing more than for you to give it all up,” you confessed, “but we have to think about the safety of the Galaxy our child we grow up in. If we give it all up now, how safe will they be?” Maker, Anakin hated it when you were right. He kissed your shoulder as he understood what he had to do, it was his duty not only as a Jedi, or as the Chosen One, but as a father.

You both sat there a while, letting his hand gently rub over your stomach as he just let himself be happy for one moment.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

True to his word Anakin went into overtime, researching every corrupt politician and sleeping only what was necessary to function. Determined to take care of Grievous and the Sith before your child was born. You kept him updated from Naboo, telling him how the baby’s room was coming along, telling him how much you loved him and how much you feel the baby loves him too. You decided to keep the fact that you were carrying twins a secret as a surprise when he came home.

The Council did not handle your resignation well, all but calling you selfish for leaving the Order at such a desperate time. But you didn’t care about the Council’s reaction, but the sight of your former Master with the look of betrayal and disbelief in his eyes shook you. Kin was not the most affectionate Master in the Order. But he was kind in his own way, he had been the only father you’ve ever known. Sadness filled you as your Master did not say one word the entire time. You hoped one day, when all was said and done, that he would forgive you, and that you would see him again.

After you handed in your Jedi robes, you debated on giving up your saber. You held the ornate handle, fingers tracing it’s markings delicately. On one hand you knew you should, to symbolize that you gave up on the Jedi way completely. But you also knew that the galaxy was dangerous, now more than ever, and it would be wise to keep it if not for protection. After giving up your robes and other things that signified your affiliation with the Order you gathered your things and left.

You traveled to Naboo and immediately got to work, at first you struggled, never having a space all your own before. Even your room at the temple belonged to the Order so you struggled with decorating it and making it feel like a home. But Padme, who had been your biggest supporter since the beginning of your marriage with Anakin, helped. She taught you how to shop, not just for the necessities, but for things that hold no purpose than just to please you. Even going as far as to pay for it herself. You tried telling her it was too much but she insisted. Claiming that it was the least she could do for you and her godchildren.

Soon enough the little house you had bought turned into a beautiful home. It had three bedrooms, one for you and Anakin, one for the twins, and an extra one for when they got older and they wanted a room on their own. Yours and Anakin’s was a decent size, with a closet and a dresser big enough for the two of you. The bed was soft and big, big enough for the both of you. You had filled it with only soft things, like flowers and carpets. The sheets were in a traditional Naboo pattern, as a picture of you and Anakin that you had kept carefully hidden at the temple sat on your nightstand.

The baby’s room held two cribs, they were both made of the trees surrounding your home and safe for them a few toys and yellow blankets. Above the cribs were mobiles that Anakin had made and sent over with Padme when she last visited Coruscant, wanting to at least contribute that to the baby’s room. They were beautiful and colorful. Beads of blue and green hunt off of them as tiny planets scattered amongst the blue and green. But right in the middle you recognized two figurines, one was of Anakin and he was holding you. You wept for 2 hours after receiving them.

You didn’t sleep much despite how cozy your new home had become, you couldn’t help it. You missed him, but most of all you worried for him. You worried that you were holding him back from his destiny, his dreams of being the most powerful Jedi that had ever lived; but you also worried about the dark side in him, you knew that the stronger the force is the stronger the pull to the dark side. He was conceived by the Force, his Midi Chlorian count was greater than Master Yoda’s, if he would turn to the dark side all would be lost.

During one of your talks Anakin had admitted that his dreams were getting worse. He dreamt of fire, of you dying in childbirth and he worried about what it meant. If it was true. You wished you could hold him, but all you could do was assure him that it wasn’t true.

“You’re getting closer to finding the Sith,” you said to him, “the Sith lie my love, they can implant visions and manipulate you to lead you down a path that leads to the darkside. They manipulate and give false promises, the fact that they can do it to you while you sleep in the temple can only mean one thing.” Anakin’s eyes widened.

“They must be close.” Anakin whispered. Even though you both had always been chaotic in your own way. Your logic was outstanding, leading him to an important piece of the puzzle.

“Exactly,” you smiled, “guard your mind. Reinforce your mental barriers and be wary. I promise you, everything will be alright.”

“But what if this isn’t the Sith,” Anakin asked worriedly, “I’m sure the Sith didn’t implant those visions of my mother all those years ago.” You were silent, your face deep in thought as you replayed what happened three years ago. Anakin had been receiving those visions a few days prior to her abduction, but something about her abduction never settled right with you. Why her, you understood that the Tusken’s raided and kidnapped people all the time. But they usually held them for ransom, not for torture. Your eyes widened a small bit as you came to the conclusion that this Sith had been playing the long game, skillfully and tactfully luring the chosen one to the dark side.

“What,” Anakin asked concerned, “what is it.”

“I never understood why what happened to your mother unsettled me so.” You started, “but now I do.” You took a deep breath as you searched for the words to tell him, “You once told me the Tuskan’s were savages, that they believed that everyone else were trespassers and were to pay them a toll.” Anakin nodded, remembering telling you that, “that they killed.” Another nod, “An,” you started slowly, “are they known to torture their victims? Even prolonging their torture for longer than a few days?”

It felt like the world stopped for Anakin. He thought about that day at least once everyday, but not once did he ask himself why. The Tusken’s just raided and killed, sometimes they held hostages but not for long, most certainly never a month. That wasn’t like the Tusken’s at all, because torturing an innocent woman didn’t benefit them. All at once Anakin understood what you were trying to tell him, and anger rushed in his veins. His eyes narrowed at the ground under him. He took a few deep breaths, careful not to show you his anger, he didn’t want to worry you. His blue eyes looked up from the ground, his shoulders tense as he strained against acting out.

“I wish you were here,” Anakin admitted rubbing his hand over his face, “I only talked with you for a few minutes and already you’ve made things clearer. I just…I just wish I could hold you.” You wished the same thing, wanting nothing more than to hold him and try to keep him together. But if you went to him now, everything you worked so hard for would go to waste. Your swollen stomach would give everything away. You’ve risked everything for this, for a life with him. But as you see the man you love shaking, you remember the commitment you made to him the day you became husband and wife. Even in secret you would love him and be there for him.

As the call ended you were already packing, all would be fine if you managed to sneak into the temple without being seen.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

There was a little hidden entry way you and Anakin would use when you were both young Padawan’s, often to sneak out of a lesson. You were surprised that you were able to fit through it.

You used the damp and dusty entry, took the first left and then a right where you knew you would be at an abandoned wing of the temple. It wasn’t too far from the meditation rooms, where most of your lessons were held. You were sure to keep the large cloak on your body with the hood up, covering your face. Hoping that would be enough to conceal you until you got to Anakin’s room. The Jedi Knight living quarters were a five minute walk from where you were and Anakin’s room was on the far end of the living quarters. You made sure to use caution as you moved through the halls, keeping your heart calm and moving like you belonged there. Soon enough you had moved through the hallways undetected, or so you thought. Just as you were about to enter Anakin’s room you heard footsteps, your eyes teared a little as you recognized their footsteps.

“Anakin,” Kin had said, “the meeting is abo-” You turned around, carefully hiding your bump in your cloak. Letting your former Master see your face for the first time since you had announced your departure from the Order. Your heart broke a little as you saw the bags that had started to form under his dark eyes. His frame was slimmer and his dark hair now a dark gray.

“Master,” You greeted slightly above a whisper. Kin continued to look at you for a second before turning his head both ways before ushering you inside. Making sure to lock the door behind him.

“Did anyone see you?” He asked worriedly, it wasn’t that former Jedi’s weren’t welcome back to the temple, but it did rouse suspicion when they were sneaking into a current Jedi’s room.

“You taught me better than to get caught.” You said, you saw his shoulders sag in relief. For a moment there was silence.

“I have a question to ask you,” he said, still facing the door, “and please, do this kindness for your former Master and answer it truthfully.” You nodded behind him, “Why did you leave the Order?” You didn’t know how to answer without lying, taking your continued silence he spoke further, “You were well on your way to becoming a Master. You were talented and smart and you could have been on the Council in record time. Yet you left, it is a Master’s greatest sorrow to see his Padawan, someone that he has trained and raised, waste their potential.” Your silence ensued, guilt consuming you for your silence. Moments pass by, one by one until Kin speaks again. “Is it your feelings for Anakin that you left the Order?” He turned around to look at you, your eyes widened as his dark eyes give off a knowing look.

“When-How-What-”

“I know the look of love well,” Kin revealed, “I too once had that look in my eyes.” he sighed as he continued, “but he and I were on two different paths. We could not be together as we wished so it was better to leave it alone. Let those feelings fade with the memory of each other.” He gave a small smile, “I do think about him sometimes though, in my loneliest moments.” He looked at you for another moment, “you and he would’ve gotten along.” He placed a hand on your shoulder, tears pricked your eyes as you saw your former master reveal more of himself. Trusting you with the knowledge that he too, had broken the code and fallen in love. Then, for the first time in your life without a life or death situation, you hugged your master. You wrapped your arms around him and cried, at first he stiffened. Your Master was not the affectionate sort, or at least, you thought he wasn’t as his arms tentatively wrap around you as well.

“How long have you known?” You asked as you let go of him.

“Long enough.” He said, “but you didn’t answer my question little one, why did you leave the order?” he asked quizzically, “did he hurt you? Was it the pressure of a secret love? What happened? You can tell me, you’re safe.” You wiped the few tears that snuck past your eyes off with the sleeve of your cloak before finally removing it. His eyes widened as he saw your stomach. You were about five and a half months. Swollen enough to be noticeable but easily concealed with a large cloak. There was a moment, before Kin looked at you in the eyes very intensely.

“Does Anakin know?”

“Yes.” You responded.

“Is this the reason why you left?” he asked, you nodded, “how did he handle the news?” You saw his hand inch over to his saber on his belt, you laughed a little as you felt Kin’s thoughts.

“He was more excited than I was,” You responded, grabbing your master’s hand, “so there’s no need to turn to the dark side so quickly.”

“Not today then,” he muttered as you motioned for you to sit on one of the crates. With little difficulty you managed to sit, with Kin taking a seat in front of you. You informed him of your life after the Order, how you were settled on Naboo, close friends with Padme (his nose scrunched a little at the thought of you being friends with a politician). You told him of Naboo’s beauty and invited him to visit anytime he wished to. You both talked as you waited for Anakin to arrive.

It wasn’t until sun down that Anakin arrived in his room. The Council meeting had run into overtime without Master Kin to give his say in things. He was tired, and angry, and wanted nothing more than to sleep in your arms. Anakin arrived at his door when he sensed two people inside, his hand gripped his saber as he opened the door. Ready to attack in case, however he was surprised at the sight of Master Kin but that was nothing compared to the sight of you. Without the blurriness of the video feed he could see you fully and clearly, it took everything in him not to run to you, hold you against his chest and never let go.

“An,” you said, getting up from the crate instinctively Anakin rushed to help you up. Grabbing your hand in his and supporting your back, rubbing soothing circles into it.

“I’ll just see myself out,” Kin said, getting up himself and walking over to the door, “I won’t tell a soul you’re here, you have my word.” he promised before finally leaving you alone with your husband who by now was very confused.

A few moments pass before Anakin envelops you in an embrace, careful of the obvious bump. “I missed you my Angel.”

“I missed you as well my love.” You say as you remain in his arms, “after our call last night I had to see you.”

“I’m glad you did,” Anakin said pulling away enough to press your forehead against his, “but it’s-”

“Risky,” you finished his sentence, “I know.” You press your lips against his cheek, “but I made a vow to you. Even in secret I would love you, that I would stay by you throughout all tribulations of our lives; and right now you are going through one. I need you and you need me, that’s all there is to that.” You motioned toward the regular sized bed, “lay with me my love.” Anakin follows you and helps you lay down before joining you. You feel the familiar coarse fabric of the blanket and the firmness of the mattress below, it reminds you of your Jedi days, although you had stopped being a Jedi only a few months ago; it felt like a lifetime.

Anakin rested his dark sandy hair on your chest, you wrapped your arms around him, playing with the strands freely while he played with your unoccupied hand.

“I promise you,” Anakin starts, “once the General Grevious is dealt with, and once the Sith are dealt with I will get you a ring, one you can wear proudly and publically.” He kisses each finger tip, his lips traveling upward, to the crook of your arm and all the way to your shoulder. Just mere minutes ago he was tired and wanting, but now with you here. He was starving now as well, it had been so long since he got to be with you so intimately. Even now as you hold him in your arms, he craves more. He needs to feel you, to know that you are real.

“My love,” you whisper as his lips reach the curve of your neck, his lips biting and sucking, leaving an obvious mark on you. Seeing the red splotch form had him turn feral, you no longer needed to hide his mark on you with high collars and makeup. His plush lips crash onto yours as you both moan, his hands ghosting up your baby bump and to your breast. Even as your breasts are protected over clothing, the mere touch of him alone has made you desperate.

“My love,” you whisper again, sitting up and taking his face in your hands. His eyes were dark with lust as he craved you more, “my love,” you whispered again trying (and failing) to hold in the whiny whimper that threatened to escape you as your husband's large, rough hands continued to massage your larger breasts. “I need you.”

“I need you as well,” he said as he leaned in for a kiss, only to be stopped. Your eyes held a look he was unfamiliar with.

“I need you to listen to me,” you stated unsure about how to go about this. You were always a certain body type, and the last time Anakin had seen your body it was when your pregnancy was in its early stages. You were worried about how he was going to react, now that stretch marks littered almost every inch of your body. Your stomach and breasts most of all, some local women in the Naboo market had sold you a cream to help the stretch marks, but some days you were just too tired. “I’m not like I was the last time we made love.”

“I know,” Anakin said, taking his hand away from your breast and gently resting it on your abdomen, “you’re carrying life my Angel, and no matter what form you take.” He gently rubs your stomach as he grabs one hand from his face, kissing your fingers, “you could be seven feet,” he kisses your palm, “or a gundark,” he kisses the pulse point of your wrist his lips lingering there, “or even a man,” he nips at the pulse, exciting you, “I will always want to be with you.” His lips were on yours as you moaned, “will you have me, my Angel?”

“Yes,” you say immediately, you both stood up, each other’s lips never leaving the other. You undressed him, cursing how many layers he wore. You roughly pulled at the belt wrapped around him, urging it to come undone. After months without his touch you often found yourself with a hand between your thighs, imagining it was your husband's fingers instead of yours. Anakin thought he was starving, well, you were ravenous. You bit his lips and suckled on his lower lip as he let out a moan. Meanwhile Anakin was taking his time undressing you, as though you were fragile. And while you loved that side of him, right now you needed him on you or in you.

Once undressed you fought the urge to hide yourself. Anakin stared at you, his face giving nothing away as you were silently hoping he hadn’t changed his mind. After a few minutes of him staring you go to gather your clothes, only for your clothes to be ripped away from you.

“I was going to go easy on you,” Anakin whispered hotly against the shell of your ear, wrapping his muscular arms around you to grab your breasts tightly, toying with your hardened nipples; nearly making your knees buckle, “I was going to massage your entire body, worship you like the angel you are.” He kisses the back of your neck, sending tingles down your spine, “then I was going to eat your pretty pussy out, have you beg for my cock in you again,” his arms left your breast to rub over your belly, “beg me to make you pregnant again.” You're practically shaking as his hands roam over your body, pregnancy hormones making your body more sensitive than before. Already feeling your arousal drip down your legs, “and I will do all that,” you feel his hardened length against you, grinding into your ass, “later. Right now I need to be inside you, I need to have you wrapped around me because if I don’t I feel like I might die.” You moan as you reach for him behind you, stroking his hard length, the head already dripping precum, you heard him groan and moan into your ear as his hands traveled south, where you needed him most. Collecting your slick, rubbing your sensitive, engorged clit. You let out a silent cry as you hold onto the wall of muscle behind you for stability. “You’re already so wet for me my Angel, have you missed me Angel?” You nodded frantically as he drew lazy circles around your clit, “have you thought of me often?”

“Yes,” you moan, “I thought of you everyday.” his circles become tighter, “I touched myself thinking of you,” you pump his cock faster now causing him to groan, “I thought about you eating me out and your cock inside me,” you fail to hold back the moan that falls from your lips as he lightly smacks your clit. “Oh my god please fuck me.” You felt him chuckle slowly before he asked, “how?” you knew he was asking which position would be better for you, and it warmed your heart to know that even in this moment when you both want nothing more than for the other to fuck you, that he still thought about you and what made you feel better.

“Bend me over,” you said, leaning over so you were on your hands and knees over the bed. Spread out and waiting for him, if Anakin had to wait one more second he was going to explode. He lined himself up with your entrance and buried himself in you with one slick stroke. Grabbing your hips to pull your ass flush against him, giving you a second to adjust as he tried not to cum immediately.

“Maker, you feel like heaven,” he moaned, “could’ve sworn you were made for me Angel.”

And at that he began thrusting, pulling out, letting you feel every drag of his cock before he slammed it back in. Causing you to scream in pleasure, dropping to your elbows and grabbing his pillow to try to stifle your cries of pleasure. Tears streamed down your face as he just felt so damned good. Your nippled brush against the kinda rough fabric of his blanket, the idea of him going feral over how your ass jiggled with each hard thrust of his hip, he hit your most sensitive spot over and over and over. Oh maker, you were about to cum.

“Anakin,” you moaned, “Anakin I’m so close oh my, please right there don’t stop!”

“C’mon Angel,” He lowly growled in your ear smacking your ass, “be a good girl and cum for me.”

At that your body shook as you just experienced heaven and hell at the same time. Your orgasm ripped through you so violently that you couldn't see which was up or down.

Meanwhile Anakin thrusted harshly a few more times before finally finishing inside, his body on fire as he realized how addicted you both had become to each other.

Anakin pulled out of you slowly, cleaning you up with the spare towel he kept close by. Wiping you and then himself before settling you on your side before sliding in next to you, his hands gently rubbing your stomach.

“Maker, I hope this kid is durable because we are definitely doing that again.”

You breathlessly laugh as you turn around to face him, fingers trailing his jawline.

“You mean children.”

“What?”

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Anakin had meant what he said, that night he had made love to you 3 times, ripping four orgasms from you before finally settling down for the night. You both didn’t wake until at least noon. You supposed you had your Master to thank, must have made an excuse for you both to sleep in. You tried to get up as you felt the delicious ache between your thighs, you smiled vaguely at it. A reminder of last night.

You both quickly washed and ate after that, he snuck in food from the hall in order to feed you. And then you both got to work, settling quickly into business mode.

Your main concern right now was the Sith, because you were positive that Grievous was working with the Sith if not for. While Anakin was focused on vengeance.

You both knew the Sith lord had to be close to the Order, either directly or indirectly, that they had to have some power or influence beyond their Sith title. Meaning that they were either a Jedi or part of the Senate. Considering that they would have to be physically close to Anakin to implant visions and mess with his mind and to spy on him.

You had a list but it needed to be smaller. Possible suspects were Yoda, Windu, Palpatine, and Obi Wan.

Obi Wan’s name was almost immediately crossed out by Anakin.

“He’s too much of a kiss up to the Council to be against them” Anakin had said as he crossed Obi’s name out.

“What would Yoda have to benefit from a system he practically shaped?” You asked as you crossed Yoda’s name off.

Finally only two remained, Master Windu; second only to Yoda in terms of power and skill. And Palpatine, the charismatic Chancellor who was elected into office thirteen years ago before the Clone Wars began.

Both of your brains were fried, and having to pee every five seconds was getting in the way of progress. You were frustrated, and just tired. Eventually you both just laid in bed, holding each other. He was rubbing soothing circles on your back when suddenly he shot out of bed.

“It’s Palpatine,” he said as he crossed Windu’s name off the list. You sat straight up as you looked in his eyes, widened and crazed. “Palpatine is the Sith.”

“How do you know that?” You asked.

“Just a feeling.” He said darkly, “a very strong feeling.” You nodded, seeing it check out. Something about the chancellor always threw you off anyways.

“Alright,” You said, believing him, “now what do we do.”

“We show everyone.” Anakin said, “we show everyone who he is.”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Anakin's plan had worked beautifully, with your help he had managed to record every interaction between him and Palpatine. Working information out of him was easier than Anakin thought, but it turns out that when people think you believe them they’ll say anything.

They quickly got Grievous's location and substantial evidence of him being Sith.

However, Anakin would not turn all this evidence in.

Not until he avenged his mother.

So there he was, surrounded by fire and Palpatine shooting lightning out of his hands. Struggling between the light and the dark. Feeling a strong pull to both, even with Palpatine’s deformed face leering at him as he was on his knees, physically beaten. He couldn’t help but itch towards his lightsaber, wondering if Sith blood taints a Kyber crystal. The galaxy would be better for it, no more Sith.

“Do it!” Sidious hissed with a cracked smile on his lips, “strike me down in anger and become what you were always meant to be…Darth Vader!” For a moment he felt your signature, he looked back around and saw you, only you. You were sending him a message through the force.

“You are Anakin Skywalker,” you eyes pleaded with him, “you are from Tatooine, you grew up around coarse sand and two suns. You had a loving mother, who loved you so much and you loved her. You are not made of the same cloth as him, you are made out of something better, something softer. You are made of love, you love and give without any greed because you know what it’s like to have nothing. You love with your whole soul, never any less. You love Obi Wan Kenobi, your Master, your brother, your father, your best friend. You had loved me since we were children, and I, you. I am sorry that the galaxy has only shown you a fraction of that love in return. But there are people who love you unconditionally. You are Anakin Skywalker, and only you can defeat the Sith.”

You hoped he got your message, and by the tears in blue eyes you can see the yellow fade, as your heart skipped a beat.

Anakin smiled at you before turning to face the Sith on his knees, a confused and terrified look on his face.

“I am Anakin Skywalker,” he raised his saber, “I strike you down in the name of peace and balance in the Force.” and with that Sidious was no more, he was well and truly dead. You ran to Anakin who had opened his arms to catch you. Burying his face in your hair, inhaling your scent as finally the weight on his shoulders lifted.

“Time to go home.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“My love, have you seen your daughter?!” You asked loudy pretending not to notice the small shoes peeking out underneath the curtain and ignoring the soft giggles of her laughter. It has been 7 years since Anakin defeated the Sith, he captured Grievous soon after. Anakin provided the necessary evidence in order to justify what he had done, Yoda and Windu wanted to make him a Master and join their Council but were quickly astounded as he refused the offer and instead handed in his resignation claiming his time with the Jedi was now over.

Obi Wan found out why shortly after as Anakin invited him to Naboo for a visit only to be met with you and Anakin in domestic bliss with your very round stomach.

When you first moved into the small house and had it all decorated you never understood why it didn’t feel like home. Not until Anakin came home, seeing him in the living room, and bedrooms, seeing him add his own touches made it truly feel like home.

Obi Wan and Kin often dropped by, both of them already fighting over who the “grand-master” was and who got to be the first to babysit. Padme had heard all about your adventure. Needless to say you would rather face Gundarks naked then be on the receiving end of her wrath again.

Soon after it all was settled you gave birth to the twins, Leia Shimi Skywalker and Luke Benjamin Skywalker. You didn’t know much about your biological parents, only that their names were Leia and Luke, and since you were naming them after yours, you and Anakin decided their middle names should be his. His mother and the closest thing he ever had for a father.

Obi Wan couldn’t hold Luke without crying for a few hours.

After the first time he held Luke, Obi Wan hugged Anakin and said softly. “You are my brother Anakin, I love you.” you could see your blue eyed husband hold back a few tears as he returned the hug.

“I love you too Obi Wan.”

While Leia looked after her kind grandmother Shimi, she was basically Anakin in a small girl’s body. The amount of sass she contained in her small frame astounded you, but it warmed your heart to see how wrapped Anakin was around her small finger. Always had been, ever since she took her first breath.

Meanwhile Luke was kinder, he looked just like Anakin with his tufts of sandy blonde hair and bright blue eyes. However, he seemed to have gotten most of his personality from you and from Padme who often came around and that the twins referred to as “Auntie Padme.”.

Life was happy as you chased your rambunctious twins through the house, laughing and squealing as Anakin lifted them both in his arms and pressed a loving kiss to your lips.

Sometimes you would ask Anakin if he was happy, if he regretted rejecting the position of Master, something he had always wanted.

He would always respond with a kiss to your forehead, and then your closed eyelid, your nose, your flushed cheeks until finally settling on your lips. Whispering, “If I woke up tomorrow in my bed on Tatooine, nine years old with my mother knowing what I know now. I wouldn’t do one thing differently, I would choose this every.single.time.”

So years go by, and you remember the moments that lead you to where you are now. All the heartbreak and sorrow, all the hiding and secrets, and all the happy moments that followed after. You realized that these moments would stick with you for as long as you live. Each and every one.

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loveroftoomanyfandoms · 1 year

Text

It's Always Been You (Reader's Version)

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x F!Reader

Summary: What if Michael went to his best friend (Reader) during the events of Season 2 Episode 7 instead of Amanda coming to him?

Warnings/Tags: Friends to Lovers, PWP, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, spoilers for season 2 of Kin, American attempting to write an Irish dialect

Word Count: ~3500

A/N: I've joined everyone in Mikey Brainrot Land! Expect more from me featuring Mikey (including a Mikey PoV of this fic) soon!

Fuckin' hell, what a day, Y/F/N Y/L/N thought as she poured herself a very large glass of wine and sat on her sofa. She had been shouted at by one patient at the hospital where she worked, hit on by another, and accused of trying to exsanguinate a third when she had sent a nurse in for a blood draw.

She had just opened the book she had settled down to read when her doorbell rang. Of course.

She opened the door and couldn't help but smile when she saw who was standing in her doorway -- her best friend of over twenty years, Michael Kinsella. "Mikey, hi."

Michael rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. "Hey, Y/N. Can I come in?"

Y/N stepped out of the doorway. "Yeah, of course."

She shut the door behind Michael. "Can I get ya a drink? Water, tea… juice?"

Michael smiled sadly. "Beer?"

Y/N's eyebrows raised. Michael rarely imbibed after getting out of prison, so Y/N knew there was probably something serious going on. "Sure. Make yerself comfortable."

She went to her kitchen, popping open two beers before heading into her living room, pleased to see that Michael had taken his shoes off. Plannin' on stayin' a while, then. Good.

She handed him one of the beers then set the other one down before picking up her glass of wine and sitting beside him on the sofa. "Talk ta me, Mikey. What's goin' on?"

Michael drained half of the bottle before speaking. "Bren's been sniffin' 'round Anna."

Y/N sucked in a breath. Unfortunately she knew first-hand about Michael's father's predatory ways. "Did ya tell her about him?"

Michael sighed. "I tried, but she just accused me of tryin' ta keep her from tha family and I got angry and shouted at her, then I left."

Y/N took a long sip of wine. She loved her goddaughter, she really did, but she knew Anna was still angry at Michael and wouldn't want to listen to anything her father said. "Want me ta talk ta her? She might actually listen ta her Auntie Y/N."

Michael drained the rest of his beer and picked up the other bottle, then took another drink. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd appreciate tha'. I'm not exactly on the best terms with her right now."

Y/N reached out and gave Michael's hand a squeeze. "I'm sorry yer having such a rough go of it, Mikey."

Michael scoffed and took another long drink of his beer. "Oh, that's not even half of it. I called Molly afterward, then when she didn't answer I went to the chemist's to see her."

Y/N's heart clenched. She had to admit it hurt that after fighting with Anna the first person Michael had wanted to talk to hadn't been Y/N, but Molly. He hadn't been seeing her long but he seemed pretty taken with her already. "Mmm."

Michael sighed. "I didn't see her so I asked after her, and tha chemist told me she was off for tha next month."

Y/N tilted her head curiously. "She went on holiday and didn't tell ya?"

Michael shook his head. "She's off on her weddin' and honeymoon."

Y/N gasped. That definitely hadn't been what she was expecting Michael to say. "Tha' fuckin' bitch, I'll fuckin' kill her."

Michael gently grabbed her arm as she went to stand. "Nah, no need to be goin' doin' tha'. I'm grand."

Y/N sat back down. "No you're fuckin' not, Michael, otherwise ya wouldn't be sittin' on my sofa puttin' away beer like it's fuckin' water right now."

Michael shook his head with a chuckle. "No, no yer right, I'm not, but I will be."

Y/N's heart broke for him. "I'm so sorry, Mikey."

"Ah, don't go worrying yer pretty little head about me." Michael shrugged then moved a stray piece of hair from Y/N's face, his touch lingering on her cheek. "I'll be fine, darlin'. Not the first time I've slept with a married woman -- or in this case, engaged."

Y/N fought to keep her eyes from fluttering closed. She had fought against her feelings for Michael ever since they had met as teenagers. But he hadn't seemed interested in her in that way at the time and then Y/N had been busy with university, and by the time she was done with her schooling Michael had already had an affair with Amanda then married Alison and had Anna, and after that… well. He had spent 8 years away.

Y/N had also recently heard whisperings of Michael and Amanda possibly rekindling their affair, but had dismissed it after Michael had recently mentioned asking the pretty clerk at the chemist's out on a date.

She sat back, draining the last of her glass of wine.

Michael's brow furrowed. "You alrigh'?"

"Oh yeah, I'm grand," Y/N said, giving him a nudge in order to distract him from her flustered state.

She stood. "Another ale?"

Michael shook his head. "Ah, I probably shouldn't. Got ta' walk home."

"You can stay here tonight, ya know." Y/N headed towards the kitchen to pour herself another glass of wine. "You're always welcome."

"Ya sure I won't be a bother?" Michael asked.

Y/N grabbed another beer for Michael and headed back into her living room. "Nah, of course not. Ya never are a bother, Mikey, you know tha'. The guest room is always open."

She handed Michael his beer and sat back down next to him. "'Sides, you can keep me from going out and doing something stupid, like slashing that little slag's tires or settin' her house on fire."

Michael chuckled. "I really didn't get far enough in ta where I knew where she lives."

"Fuckin' lucky for her then." Y/N took a sip of wine. "Anna will be okay, ya know that, right Mikey?"

Michael shook his head. and took a sip of his beer. "I'm just tryin' ta protect her, Y/N."

Y/N studied him. "Just from Bren or from the rest of yer family too?"

Michael sighed. "I don't know. Both, I guess? I just… I don't want this for her, I -- after what happened ta Jamie I can't lose her too. I can't lose another child ta this life."

Y/N's heart broke all over again. "Ya won't, Mikey. Ya won't, because ya have me protectin' her. I love her like she was me own and I love you, ya know I'd die before I let anythin' happen to either of ya."

Michael looked down at the floor, silently contemplating something. "Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

Michael opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it, then opened it again, then after another moment of hesitation he cupped Y/N's chin in his hand and pressed his lips to hers, quickly moving his hand from her chin to the side of her neck as he kissed her again.

Y/N sucked in a shaky breath as Michael leaned back. Did that just fuckin' happen?

She opened her mouth, her eyes flitting across Michael's face as he looked at her as if he was waiting for her to slap him.

Before she could second-guess herself, she cupped Michael's face in her hands and pressed her lips back to his, pouring 20+ years of pent-up feelings into the kiss.

Michael responded quickly, shifting to lean Y/N back onto the sofa as he took control. "How long, pet?" he murmured against her lips.

Y/N gasped in a breath as Michael trailed hot kisses across her neck, his beard scratching deliciously against her skin. "Mikey, please…"

Michael growled against her throat. "I said, how fuckin' long, Y/N? How long have ya been wantin' me like I've been wantin' ya?"

Y/N hissed as Michael gave a gentle nip to her throat. "Ever since -- oh, fuck, Michael -- ever since I first clapped eyes on ya."

Michael groaned and leaned back to look at her. "Fuck, why didn't ya ever say anythin'?"

"Because I didn't think you were ever interested in me like tha'." Y/N sighed and sat up. "There was tha' thing with Amanda, and after tha' ya met Alison, then after she -- well, after ya came home, I thought about finally telling ya how I felt but ya were so focused on trying ta reunite with Anna and then Jamie died and there was tha' whole business with Eamon and the Batuks, and after ya came back home from tha' you were dealing with your da getting out of prison, and then it was too late because ya had started talking about Molly. Ya seemed happy fer once, Mikey, I didn't want ta get in the way of tha'." Y/N bit her lip. "Yer happiness means everythin' ta me."

Michael shook his head as he sat back on his knees. "Fuckin' hell, Y/N. You. You make me happy, ya always have."

He paused as if a thought had struck him. "Is that why ya never got married?"

Y/N looked away so she didn't have to see pity written all over Michael's face. She had had boyfriends over the years that she had known Michael, of course, and more than the occasional one-night-stand or friend-with-benefits, but never anything overly serious.

She shrugged casually, pretending like the current conversation wasn't absolutely humiliating. "It's always been you."

Michael sighed. "Fuck."

Y/N shook her head, still refusing to look at him. "It's not a big deal, Mikey, it's not like I'm some sort of blushin' virgin or anythin'. I get my needs taken care of."

(And if she purposely only chose men with dark hair and haunted eyes to sleep with… well.)

Michael reached out and gently cupped her chin in his hand, turning her face back towards his. "Y/N, look at me, pet, please."

Y/N turned her gaze back towards him, unable to deny Michael such a simple request when he asked so sweetly.

Michael leaned in and pressed his lips to hers once again, his hand sliding from her chin to cup her neck again as he moved in to kiss her deeper.

Y/N melted against him, all of the tension leaving her body as Michael's tongue slid against hers.

Her hands scrabbled for purchase as he leaned her backwards again, finally finding the hem of Michael's sweater and shoving it up his body in order to get to bare skin.

Michael stopped kissing her just long enough to lean back and pull his sweater up and over his head, depositing it on the floor before finding her mouth once again.

Y/N ran her hands up Michael's chest, breathing out a light 'fuck' as Michael's hands slid underneath her tank top in an attempt to also disrobe her.

She sat up just enough to pull her tank top off, sighing in satisfaction as Michael's bare skin finally touched hers.

Michael began kissing his way further down her throat, his hand snaking up into her hair so he could tilt her head for better access.

Y/N whimpered as Michael's hand tightened slightly, her hips grinding up against his burdening erection. "Want ya inside me, Mikey."

Michael groaned. "Fuck, I don't have any johnnys on me."

Y/N shook her head. "It's okay. I'm on birth control and I get tested regularly for STIs."

She paused, realizing what Michael might have been insinuating. "Unless ya think we need one? In that case I have some in tha' ensuite."

Michael shook his head. "I don't -- I didn't go without, with Molly, if that's what yer askin', pet. And there hadn't been anyone else fer years before tha'."

Y//N nodded, her decision made. "Then take me to bed, Michael."

Michael wrapped his hands around her thighs. "Hold on ta me."

Y/N linked her arms around his neck. "I'm never lettin' go of ya again if I don't hafta."

Michael pressed his lips to hers once again as he lifted her to him, then stood and carried her to her bedroom.

He deposited her in her bed, wasting no time before climbing in after her.

"You're so fuckin' gorgeous, pet," Michael breathed, his eyes roaming Y/N's naked torso. "Been wantin' ya fer over twenty fuckin' years."

Y/N sucked in a breath at the revelation that Michael had been wanting her for just as long as she had been wanting him. "Why didn't you ever say anythin'?"

Michael shook his head. "Because I was tryin' ta protect ya. Ya didn't deserve ta get dragged inta all of my family's shite."

He shrugged. "Besides, ya were much too good fer the likes a' me."

Y/N huffed out a breath. "Don't ya think tha' was my decision ta make?"

Michael scoffed. "Come on, Y/N, wha' good would I have been fer ya? Ya became a fuckin' doctor."

Yeah, because a' you, Michael."

Michael's brow furrowed. "Wha' -- wha' ya mean, ya became a doctor because a' me?"

Y/N bit her lip. Might as well tell him. "I became a doctor because if anythin' happened on a job and you couldn't go to hospital because it seemed suspicious you could at least come ta me and I'd patch ya up."

She smiled softly. "...Or because ya had punched a wall or fell and broke a glass door with yer head."

Michael looked flabbergasted. "But I thought --"

Y/N shook her head. "Don't get me wrong, I love savin' lives and I don't mind helpin' out yer family when they need patchin', but the most important life ta me is yers, Mikey. I'd do anythin' I possibly could ta keep ya safe."

She reached up and caressed his face. "Like I said, I love ya."

"Fuck." Michael closed his eyes briefly, then upon reopening them he leaned down and kissed Y/N, this time leaving her breathless with passion.

Y/N wrapped her arms around Michael's back, gasping in a breath as he kissed his way down her throat.

"So beautiful," Michael murmured, sliding his hands up Y/N's sides and trailing his thumbs under her breasts. "Fuckin' gorgeous, pet."

Y/N moaned as Michael circled the nipple of her left breast with his tongue, tangling her fingers into his hair and arching towards his mouth. "Mikey…"

"Mmm," Michael murmured. "Love tha' way ya say my name, like fuckin' music comin' out a' ya."

He wrapped his lips around her nipple, taking his time to tease it to a peak before switching to the other one.

Y/N gasped and arched into him again. "Fuck."

Michael hummed and let Y/N's nipple go with a soft 'pop'. "We're gettin' ta that, pet."

Y/N lifted her hips in permission as Michael's hands made their way to the waistband of her lounge pants. "Mikey… Mikey, love, need ya in me."

"Mm-mm." Michael shook his head as he slowly peeled Y/N's pants and underwear off. "Got ta taste ya first, darlin'."

Y/N whimpered, the thought of having Michael's mouth against her bare cunt making her clench around nothing.

Michael smirked as he trailed his hands up Y/N's bare legs, slowly parting them. "Oh, ya like that, do ya, pet? Ya like the thought of havin' my face buried between yer thighs, tastin' yer sweet nectar?"

Y/N moaned. "Fuck, yes, Mikey, please, need your mouth on me, love."

Michael licked his lips, his eyes glittering with desire. "Fuckin' hell, pet, yer fuckin' drippin' fer me."

Y/N let out a loud moan as Michael leisurely slid his tongue up her folds.

Michael groaned. "Fuck, you taste so fuckin' sweet, darlin'. Wish I could've been eatin' this cunt out fer years."

Y/N hissed as Michael licked another stripe up her folds then circled her clit with his tongue. "Ah, fuck, Mikey…"

Her hands flew into Michael's hair as he pressed his tongue inside her. She had had a few lovers go down on her over the years -- some more-or-less semi enthusiastically -- but Michael ate her out like he was a man starved and she was a full-course meal.

Michael worked two fingers inside her as he removed his mouth from her cunt. "Want ya ta come fer me, pet. Come fer me and I'll give ya my cock like I know ya been needin'."

Y/N whimpered again, the familiar coil inside her tightening. "Please, Mikey."

Michael lowered his mouth to her once again, beginning to fuck her with his fingers as he sucked her sensitive bud in between his lips.

Y/N felt the coil getting tighter and tighter. "Fuck, yes, Mikey, please -- Ah!"

Michael pressed a hand to her stomach as Y/N came against his face, his mouth firmly attached to her clit as he worked her through her orgasm.

He kissed his way back up Y/N's body to her lips as he began undoing his belt and unzipping his jeans.

Y/N moaned at the faint tang of herself on Michael's tongue, reaching down blindly to help Michael shove his pants and boxers down. "Need yer cock, Mikey, want it so bad, love."

Michael finished divesting himself of his pants and positioned himself back over Y/N.

Y/N bit her lip in ecstasy as Michael stroked his cock through her folds a few times, coating himself in her slick before slowly pressing inside.

She closed her eyes and sucked in a breath, the feel of Michael's bare cock inside of her unlike anything else she had ever experienced.

"--Ya alrigh', pet?"

Y/N opened her eyes to see Michael watching her worriedly.

"I'm not hurtin' ya, am I?" he asked.

Y/N shook her head. "No, Mikey, feels so good, love."

Michael slowly withdrew until just the tip of his cock remained inside of her.

He groaned. "Fuckin' hell, darlin', ya feel fuckin' incredible."

Y/N let out a gasp as Michael snapped his hips forward, burying himself in her as deeply as he could. "So do you, Mikey. Fuck, yer so fuckin' perfect."

Michael pressed his lips to the side of Y/N's neck, then began a slow, but firm pace.

The slick slide of Michael's cock in and out of Y/N quickly had a second orgasm approaching. "Mikey, I'm close, love."

Michael picked up his pace, fucking Y/N more firmly. "Did ya let any of the others inside ya like this, Y/N?" he growled. "Did ya let them feel yer tight cunt around their bare cocks?"

Y/N shook her head, crying out as Michael hit her sweet spot. "No, Mikey, just you, only ever you, love."

Michael groaned. "Can I come inside ya, pet?"

Y/N gasped. "Yes -- yes, Mikey, please. Want ta feel ya, love, need ta feel ya."

Michael reached down and began to circle Y/N's clit with his thumb. "Want ya to come with me, pet, want ta feel ya take me as deep inside ya as ya can."

Y/N began to feel the familiar coil tightening again. "Yes, Mikey, I'm close, love, please. Fill me, mark me, claim me, make me yers."

Michael let out a rumble from deep in his chest. "Yeah, pet? Want me ta ruin ya fer anyone else? Fuck a wee one into this tight cunt of yers, have my babe growin' inside ya?"

Y/N nodded, the coil getting ready to snap. "Yes, fuck, Mikey."

"Gonna fill ya with my cum, pet, keep fuckin' ya till I'm sure yer cunt has taken every last fuckin' drop." Michael hissed in a breath as his hips stuttered. "Fuck, Y/N --"

Y/N arched against him, the coil snapping once again. "Michael--"

Michael continued to thrust into her, finally slowing once he was satisfied.

He eased out of her and collapsed at her side, reaching for her and pulling her on top of him as he caught his breath.

Y/N hummed blissfully, resting her head on his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist.

Michael sighed and slid his hands around Y/N's back. "It's always been you, too, love," he said quietly. "I'm sorry I never told ya sooner. I just wanted ta keep ya safe."

Y/N shook her head, placing a kiss right over Michael's heart. "It's alright. I understand."

She looked up at him. "So wha' happens now?"

Michael smirked. "We go get a shower then come back for another go?"

Y/N huffed out a laugh. "You know what I mean, Michael."

Michael shook his head. "Can we talk about it in tha' mornin'?"

Y/N nodded, her heart sinking. Of course this is just a one-night thing for him.

She moved to get up. "Okay."

Michael tightened his hold on her, his expression quickly becoming concerned. "Hey, no, love, it's not what yer thinkin'. I want ta give this a go, I -- it's everythin' else I don't want ta have ta think about tonigh'. I just want ta be here with ya, that's all I'm sayin'."

He took a deep breath. "I love ya, Y/N. I'm never lettin' go of ya again if I don't hafta."

A smile spread across Y/N's face as Michael repeated her earlier words back to her. "I love ya too, Mikey."

She leaned up and gave Michael a kiss. "Come on. I've got plans for tha' shower."

#lotmf writes #michael kinsella x female reader #michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella fanfic #michael kinsella smut #michael kinsella fluff #kin amc #IABY Masterlist

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castleofcuntdracula · 2 months

Text

Since I'm saving up for some things, and working on flexing some specific authorial muscles in advance of a big project, I thought I'd open up fic coms! £10 = 1000 words + however much I feel like continuing on a topic of your choice from this selection.

Not sure how tumblr will handle that image, so, full transcription/ID below:

A comission information sheet styled to resemble a pub menu or catalogue page. The heading reads "Gored Renfields, direct from my nightmares". The menu offers various pre-categorised scenarios, including cannibalism, guro, breeding, sickfic, and impact play.

Directly below the heading is text reading as follows:

BRUTAL SCENES of gore and agony will be wrought upon this man! Unlock your inner Dracula and watch our collective blorbo squirm as he suffers any of the options among this salacious selection. All described in this catalogue have been hand-picked directly from heart-pounding nightmares, and some even discussed in chat! Renfield may be subject to mutilation, mastication, and more as the events in this menu of the macabre unfold, and no inch of him is off- limits! Read through, consider these creations, & pick your- or rather, his- poison. Orders filled within three weeks.

The leftmost column is titled "Cannibalism", and is subdivided into the following options, each of which have an image, title, and subtitle:

Hog Roast. This text is accompanied by a black and white illustration of a roast suckling pig.

Subtitle: Trussed up and served is where Renfield starts this course...

He's the centrepeice of a spectacular meal, bound, gagged, and ready to be served. Spiced with historical dining knowledge and reveling in his inability to scream, this dish is for you if you like cannibalism, propriety rituals, and a good, gory party. Comes in human-on-human, vampire-on-human, and a milder role-play option (v).

Tapped Tree. This text has a black and white illustration of a metal spile, from which a drop of liquid hangs, hammered into a taphole in a tree.

Subtitle: Watch. Him. Bleed.

Did you know that a man of Renfield's height and weight has nearly 6 litres of blood? In this course, you can test this for yourself- watch as a variety of blood-related bad luck befalls our best boy. Is he serving the role of punch bowl at a vampiric soiree? Being drained dry as a punishment for failing to provide for his master? Offered up to the brides of Dracula, in an attempt to make peace? Or some devious scenario of your own creation? Either way, this option is a bloody good time!

Lethal Chef. This is accompanied by an illustration of alice and the cook from Alice's adventures in wonderland.

Subtitle: Most chefs try not to cut their fingers...

Renfield doesn't get the chance. Our favourite chew-toy really becomes one in this dish, wherein he is forced to prepare his own flesh. ALL of his body is available in this option; if he's not flexible enough to reach your favourite cut , someone else will retrieve it for you. Watch as he struggles through slicing, seasoning and searing parts of his own body; soothed by shallow healing or abandoned to your tastes. Options range from a brief, painful episode of autocannibalism, to a day slaving over a hot stove preparing his parts to feed a massive party. The choice is yours with this flexible, delectable form of torment.

Serve man. This is accompanied by an 1800s era illustration of various cuts of beef.

Subtitle: asking the delicate question.

In this world, it's eat or be eaten... This dish allows Renfield, at long last and probably against his will, to join his master in the consumption of human life. Be it snowed-in survival cannibalism or the privilege of sharing in a victim, this is what to order if you want to see Renfield with a mouthful of his kith and kin. There's a thousand ways to serve a cut of meat, and he's available for all of them-be it braised broiled or fresh enough to still be hot, this option sends Renfield to the ultimate culinary frontier.

The centre column is dominated by an outlined box containing the title "Butcher's Block", and a black and white photograph of the backroom of a butcher's shop. Below the photograph is the subtitle "Prime Cuts, Prime Prices!" Can you use into a description reading as follows:

In this à la carte atrocity, watch as Renfield is sectioned off and sold for consumption. You will get your pound of flesh be it back bacon, rump steak, or hawk; as well numerous others in this story! Farm-fresh and withing in agony, this dish features a Renfield being slowly and expertly deconstructed, with a variety of options resulting, including market stalls, wholesale halls, and a glimpse at how the sausage is made. Sprawl him out on the butcher's block in back or portion him out nicely and perfect packaging-this option is the best to really get into the meat of the man.

Below this are two text inserts. They read, in all caps: "amateur anatomist author, expert in pain" and "everything £10; less than a penny per word"

Below this, a section with headings for "scrap auction" and "highest bidder". There are two pictures of auction houses. These share a subtitle, which reads "sell his body, watch him suffer". The description is as follows:

Our dear Renfield is up for auction; standing in front of an audience in watching them assess his worth! Either piecemeal, is in the scrap auction option, or wholesale going to the highest bidder. What has he done to get himself sold? is it a true turning point in his life, or all some game he doesn't know he's playing? in this option, you can find out.

Below this is a section with the heading as you wish (customs). This has the subtitle "what, dear diner, is your will? Build your own, by the word." Below this are pricing options for custom one shots, all of which cost one pound per 100 words comma except the final, which is £20 for 2,500 words.

The lowermost block of the center column is split in half. On the left, is a section titled "inner world", with the subtitle "SCALPEL!" its description reads as follows:

This surgical smorgasbord is perfect for the medically-mine did among us. Rich with detail on organs, operations, and contemporary medical technology, this dish eschews surface-level suffering to explore what Renfield is like on the inside.

On the right, a section titled "Local Ails", with the subheading "Sick and twisted". Its description reads:

Drawing on a degree in immunology in a hundreds-strong Goodreads shelf dedicated to novel set in sanatoriums, this dish explores the horrors of pre-modern medicine, and of a Victorian immune system meeting modern germs. Be it consumption, cholera, or covid, choose this option to see our adored at his most afflicted.

The rightmost and final column is titled "smut". Like the left, it is divided into options. The first of these is titled "blood play", and headed by a Victorian medical illustration of the blood vessels and musculature of the neck, accompanied by the caption "Feel him from the inside". It's description is as follows:

Sex, blood, & rock and roll combine in this option, where Renfield bears his heart and soul in the bedroom. The author turns their anatomical knowledge to the sport of tormenting one R.M, revealing hidden facets, that they might be fucked. Be it woundfucking, knife play, biting or beyond, this is where to look if you like to taste sex and violence in the same bite.

The next title is spare the rod. It is accompanied by a woodcut of a man being flogged with a cat-o'-nine-tails. It has the subtitle "...Or not". Its description reads:

This dish sets this mess of a masochist up with exactly what he needs-a firm hand and a sore arse. In this option you'll find the cane, the tawse, the birch and more. If you want to see Renfield flogged, bound or suspended, ask for this at the counter, and be sure to be specific!

The next title is "Born and bred". It has the subtitle "eating, for two", and there's a company by an 1800 hand-drawn diagram of the anatomy of the uterus. It's description reads:

Knocked Up. Up the duff. In the family way. This option is all about pregnancy, breeding and mating, be that omegaverse, mpreg, or just some good old biologically-impossible kink. Spanning a broad spectrum from keep-coming-in-his-stomach-wound wishful thinking to baby-bumped Renfield bouncing on it and moaning, this option has something for everyone Oscar the counter for our full menu of pregnancy and pregnancy-adjacent kink.

The final category is "NOT IN STOCK (hard NOs), and is headed by a picture of empty supermarket shelves. Below this, it lists "underage, furry, scat, omo, necro" and states that we have the right to refuse service at any point before payment.

#nsft #fic #renfield (2023)#robert montague renfield #dracula #dracfield #guro #fic comissions #yes i know its not allowed shhh universal dont care #mpreg #cannibalism

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theghostbunnie · 10 months

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How do you feel about Candy as a Character vs. The character you made? I’m honestly just interested in the character you have for Candy and her relationship with Nikki

HI THANK YOU FOR THE ASK, V GOOD ASK I'M HAPPY TO AWNSER

My version of Candy isn't actually supposed to contradict what we know of her already, more so really really build-off-from and completely take and run with what little we were given about her.

I'm fine with anyone's HCs I believe everyone should have fun and it doesn't have to match cannon! but in the same note if we're talkin' character analysis and not HCs they often don't even target what she did wrong and just go "whore." And. Uh. Yeah never been a fan of that.. Not a fan of how she was supposed to be a "golddigger joke" or something in the show either but ehh.

She's not a bad mother because she was on her phone or because she wears tank tops or because she has sex or anything else I've heard while being in this fandom dear GOD SKSKNDJN but this post will literally be 3x longer if I get into my takes on that so it's a different post if y'all want it one day.

Candy didn't remember something important, something traumatizing for Nikki and that's where her flaws lay. Their communication is lackluster. I think it makes her a flawed parent and a flawed person but it doesn't mean "she's scum of the earth condemn this woman to hell immediately," she still loves Nikki and shows she does in the same episode she tells her not to karate chop strangers and get them sued so she doesn't just let her do whatever. She refers to her as "my angel" and Nikki looks up at her when everyone is eating with this smile and they LOVE each other and raaahhh I love the sillies so much.... Cryinhng..

I've mentioned in my post about Neil's mother how I believe that the egg episode they're mirroring their own parents and Nikki being so worried about fucking up her egg and not knowing what to do and being unprepared and scared. I HC Candy had Nikki when she was like 20-21 and recently kicked out by her own mother and she had no support or knowledge of what to do or how to care for a baby and it was SO much trial and error but it bleeds into my HC about Nikki where she has all these big thoughts and emotions but gets regarded as simple minded by her peers because she can't find a way to express them verbally and comes off simple minded or stupid. This doesn't stop her from feeling complicated things it just stops her from being understood.

((literally the whole Christmas episode is her going "I love this thing so dang much!!! I can't tell you why though. I'll know it when I see it.?))

So when you have a unprepared parent who's working by trial and error and you can't verbalize to them the errors or make sense of your feelings that's where issues come in!!

Minor New episode spoilers: Nikki can't write eligibly when she writes letters to her mother. I think is some great potential to be visual storytelling about this if I ever could make a fic. Her handwriting is bad. She gets excited and doodles and scribbles. You can't make out what she's saying. Maybe her mother never even got to know about what happened in the flower scouts because she said it over letter.

Candy still sent her there and lied about it being adventure camp and I hc it was done not because she wants to force feminity on Nikki or anything (if that's the case Nikki would be dead like literally 💀 she needs dirt to live) but because she wanted her to make friends and since she had such a good time as some version of a scout herself she thought Nikki would too. She loves Nikki and supports her wolf-kinning and playing in the mud but of course is concerned she's estranging herself from other people by barking and biting them and sending her out into the woods she would've just continued to ignore people in favor of animals. Candy had a "it'll be good for her!" Type rationalization about lying.

Then next summer she wanted to make her happy and followed through with going to adventure camp for realsies and was scatterbrained about it and misremembered the previous year's sign up for that one.

A misunderstanding didn't hurt Nikki any less. You can have all the good intentions in the world and still screw up and accidentally hurt somebody you care about.

Personally I love depicting Candy as being really really affectionate with Nikki and she calls her not only "my angel" but variations of "baby/sweetie/hunny" and the biggest nickname she has for her is probably "sunshine"

Candy also can't cook lol she tries but it's the only thing in the world Nikki won't eat is her mom's cooking so Candy buys them TV dinners and premade stuff alot. They have "barbeque nights" where Candy brings home ribs and they watch TV together and live in this lil trailer home near a forest. (In the first trailer for camp camp we see Nikki using a slingshot on cans with flowers painted on them and I'm like yeah her back yard just goes directly into the woods I know it does)

I actually HC Candy's off and off boyfriend/husband Andrew is the one who'd force gender roles on Nikki if at all. Guy who jokes about "hookers and blow" ((Infront of his 9-10yo daughter)) with his friends yk that guy.

Please take these walls of text I've sent to a friend about Candy 🙏 also that's meant to say spots not sports 😔

Also I wanna mention Candy isn't even her actual name she got it during her time in the adult film industry (🌽) and it's actually Caroline. She doesn't really introduce herself as that anymore. Sex work in general is often an abusive industry and highly exploitive so she's got some baggage from her time there and falls in and out of being a stripper aswell and struggles to hold down a job that can support her and her daughter and it's part of multiple reasons why she keeps going back to her ex husband bc he's well-off. ((Cannonicaly bought her a car and lawyers))

She didn't even know for sure if Andrew was the father, some AUs I have he turned out to be the father in some he didn't, but she chose to tell him because he could give her daughter the best chance in life and support her education and allthat.

#oh my goodness this is gonna be a huge post huh #I'm so sorry to my low attention span followers/gen #fandom headcanons #head canon #character headcanons #camp camp hcs #nikki cc #cc nikki #candy camp camp #should i use the main fandom tag for this I'm actually embarrassed i wrote so much about a one off character #fuck it we ball #camp camp #camp Campbell

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civilization-illstayrighthere · 7 months

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Betrayal for the not-so-nice asks?

betrayal: Has your OC ever been betrayed by someone they thought they could trust? Has your OC ever betrayed someone who trusted them?

Oooh so i sort’ve answered that already but I’ll go a little into Panam’s “betrayal”. When they first meet, V thinks he’s found a sort of kin in a fellow ex-nomad, until he realizes that Panam’s ex status is more akin to a studio sitcom where a kid packs a suitcase and only makes it as far as down the street; still, he’s got this yearning for this idea of family, this things he’s never quite experienced, especially the way Panam can just go back home and it’s still home for her. The betrayal happens in a scene in my one-day-will-be-finished long fic where eventually the rest of the Aldecaldos (idk if anyone else has noticed, but other than Panam’s close band of friends, most of them… don’t really like V the majority of the quest line. Lots of snarky comments as you’re passing through camp. Add in his origin story, well. Honestly it makes sense they don’t trust him) vote to ban him entirely because they believe he may be a double agent similar to Nash with the uptick in raffen raids. (This is especially double-edged bc my V, when he finds the notes from Nash in the Wraith camp, decides to give it to her instead of tossing it like Johnny tells him to. She thanks him and trusts him more because of the gesture, but she obviously confides to her close family like Mitch and Carol about Nash’s betrayal and they don’t exactly hang out w V in the same capacity she does to not think he wouldn’t do the same.)

Tysm! :> ( not-so-nice OC asks )

#stomping in a glass house #i should probably mention… i dont think the Aldecaldos are the ‘bad guys’ in this #they DO have reason to be suspicious of V yknow?#and i dont even fault Panam for when she does choose her family over a guy she only just knows #but it really wounds V #not just his pride but also at the start she keeps calling him shiv shiv shiv #and he gets furious like listen. I RENOUNCED my family. i abandoned them #just bc you couldn’t fucking manage doesn’t mean you can’t give me the credit for that Herculean task #and he does definitely feel disgust towards her for choosing family bc for him the concept of family is reprehensible #to him family means ‘group of people who abuse you or eventually will’ yknow #and it sort of reinforces the whole ‘I will always be a monster’ outlook he has #so he continues to lean into it bc its all anyone will ever see him as besides. what’s the point of trying to change

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troutberryspoon · 10 days

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Unhallowed Heart - Chapter 5: 'Raid on the Hall of Wonders'

Dark Urge/Enver Gortash

First kiss, first kiss, first kiss! The Bhaalists reclaim some family heirlooms, Orin makes an appearance, and Durge and Gortash kiss.

Warnings - blood and violence, murder, gore

Word count - 3547

Full fic here on AO3

The morning of the opening of the Bhaalist exhibition.

The temple beneath the city bustled with the unfamiliar hum of organised activity. Everywhere Villi looked he could see Bhaal’s acolytes readying themselves for battle. Nearby, a small group of Deathdealers stood in a huddle around a Deathstalker cleric, heads bowed under black and purple cowls as they received their dark blessings. Three Unholy Assassins in their signature blood red leather armour distributed vials of paralytic poison as they moved through the shadowed hall. Young, robed initiates hurried here and there, carrying bundles of daggers, arrows, and throwing knives.

‘I must say; I haven’t seen this level of co-operation in years,’ Sceleritas said, lacing up the gauntlet on Villi’s right hand.

‘They made me work for it,’ Villi said. The edges of his voice were worn raw from two nights of using every tactic he knew to convince his flock, this rabid herd of cats, to work together. He had preached, he had threatened, he had exhorted and manipulated. Gortash had given him a short masterclass in how to bend wills, and, to give the Banite his due, it seemed to have helped.

It wasn’t that he had to convince them to kill on his command of course, not at all. Murder was their highest form of worship and his followers were nothing if not devout. Getting them to focus on a single location at a given day and time, however, had been exhausting. Villi still half-expected them to scatter when they went topside, ripping a bloody path through the Western district, slitting throats indiscriminately and leaving the artefacts unclaimed to languish in the museum.

Today was going to be the biggest test of his leadership so far. A thick eel of unease squirmed in his belly.

Sceleritas gave the gauntlet a final tug before stepping back, satisfied. He gave Villi an appraising look, then leaned closer. ‘You’re grinding your teeth, Master.’

‘Mere bloodlust,’ Villi lied.

Sceleritas pursed his withered lips, as if he was about to pry further. Villi silenced him with a glare.

‘Ah, Lady Orin, there you are,’ Sceleritas said, eyes twitching behind Villi’s shoulder. ‘I should go and see if the armourer has finished sharpening your sword, mi’lord. I won’t be long.’

The Butler scuttled away as Villi turned around to face Orin; the changeling, his second-in-command. As usual, he hadn’t heard her approach.

‘Lup-dup, lup-dup, lup-dup, lup-dup…’ Orin repeated the breathy chant as she tilted her head. Her eyes were cold, grey, featureless orbs, devoid of any visible iris or pupil. Villi knew they would be fixed on his throat. ‘How your heart pounds, dear brother.’

‘It’s bloodlust,’ Villi said.

‘You reek of fear.’

‘And you simply reek, sweet sister. That armour really does not allow your skin to breathe, does it?’

Orin folded her arms over her chest, causing the red chitinous plates that covered her body to scrape together in a way that was designed to put one’s teeth on edge. ‘Yes, let us speak of things that should not be allowed to breathe–’

‘I’m not going to tell you again. Do. Not. Kill. The. Banite. He will join us in the museum once the slaughter starts.’

Dear brother,

Sweet sister.

They were kin…of a sort. Both of them bore Bhaal’s blood.

No mortal womb had carried Villi. He was a Bhaalspawn like no other, formed directly from a gobbet of Bhaal’s own flesh. Orin was a mongrel in his eyes. The result of a dalliance between his Father and a lowly shapeshifter. But she was a Bhaalist down to the marrow. She had been born in the blood font, raised in the cloister, and had become the youngest Unholy Assassin in the history of the temple. She was utterly dedicated to their Father’s wicked doctrine, and Villi loved her for it. There was no-one else more qualified to be his second and give orders in his place.

He would also have to kill her for it one day, if she didn’t kill him first.

Their bond was a complicated one.

‘Do not kill! Oh, do not kill. The Son of Bhaal cries: do not kill,’ Orin said in a sing-song lilt.

‘That’s an order. He’ll die by my hand when the time is right.’

‘We shall see,’ she said, turning on her heel to walk away through the now crowded hall.

‘No, not we shall see, Godsdammit, Orin–’

Villi tried to follow but Sceleritas was suddenly in the way, leering up with his horrible little face.

‘Master! Endbringer is here, her blade sharp enough to cut the toughest of sinews,’ Sceleritas said. He was leading two initiates who carried Villi’s greatsword between them. The fiend kicked one of the youths in the ankle. ‘Do not drag it on the floor, you worm.’

Orin had vanished.

Villi took a breath. Orin was just trying to get under his skin. He would deal with her later.

It was time.

He raised his voice above the babble and chatter; ‘My vile family, faithful of the Dread Lord, hear me!’ After a few moments the noise around him settled. He continued; ‘Hear me and listen well. Remember your purpose today. We seek to reclaim treasured heirlooms and cherished remains from their unworthy custodians. Torture racks of Brother Eler’s design, the bones of Brother Toop, these are your quarry. But do not think I will leave your thirsty blades unsatisfied. Raise terror in the museum and make your bloody, beautiful offerings to Bhaal out of the guards and guests of the exhibition which mocks us. We must send a message: we do not exist for their amusement, we are their end!’

The gathered mass of hoods and cowls bowed in front of him, snatches of Bhaalist litany rising from veiled lips. A feeling of power bloomed in Villi’s chest, warm and heady like a good firewine. It helped to quash the remaining anxiety that nibbled at his guts as the initiates fussed around him, fastening his greatsword to his back. Its substantial weight was another comfort, and now his mind turned to the fight ahead. Real bloodlust kicked in, that most welcome of old friends. He stopped worrying about the acolytes and whether they would adhere to the plan. He just wanted to get out there and fight.

‘On me,’ he yelled, leading the Bhaalists out of the temple, towards the surface.

___

Dozens of disciples of the God of Murder streamed out of the sewers and onto the sunlit streets of Baldur’s Gate. Villi headed up the nightmare procession of killers of all kinds on a silent death march towards the columned building that took pride of place in the elegant city square.

Everyday people living their everyday lives stopped and stared.

‘What’s going on, where are they going?’

‘Check out the one up front; he’s got pretty eyes.’

‘Hells, are they real Bhaalists?’

‘Of course not, it’ll be something for the museum. They’ll be mummers.’

‘Their blades look real.’

So far, so good. If the gormless public believed this was all part of the exhibition, then the increased panic and fear when the blood started to flow would be even more exquisite.

Villi reached behind his neck to loosen the big sword in its scabbard and drew it before he reached the marble entry steps, letting it rest on his shoulder as he lifted his chin in greeting towards the guard who was standing at the massive bronze doors.

‘You, uh, you here for the group tour?’ the guard asked, watching Villi and the acolytes warily.

The tension in the air was intoxicating.

‘No. Draw your weapon,’ Villi said.

‘Shit. Shit!’ The guard backpeddled quickly, pulling the sword from his hip as Villi swung five feet of gleaming steel towards him.

Bhaalists started to disappear, at first in ones and twos, then the entire group winked out of sight using a combination of enchantments, spells, and potions. Villi felt the crunch of sword meeting chainmail, muscle, bone, and the rush of bodies around him as invisible assassins poured into the museum entrance.

Then the screaming started.

What glorious music. Villi followed it inside.

The foyer opened up into the main exhibition hall, lit by a series of skylights. Beams of light played over the polished stone floors, highlighting the splashes and pools of crimson that the Bhaalists left in their wake.

Bhaal was being honoured in every corner of the hall. Acolytes flashed into visibility, attacked with blurred speed, and disappeared again. Visitors were stabbed, strangled, beaten, dismembered, flayed. The air was ripe with a rich slaughterhouse perfume he could taste on the back of his tongue.

Two more guards armed with bows appeared on a balcony that overlooked the ground floor and began to loose arrows at the attackers below. Villi ducked behind a display of small Gondian clockwork contraptions that, according to the plaque beside them, were used to predict earthquakes. So, the Hall of Wonders was a museum dedicated to inventions.

No wonder Gortash is on the Board of Trustees, he thought.

A cheap arrow buzzed past his ear like an extraordinarily large and angry wasp.

With a growl he was out of cover and running towards a side room, searching for a way up. He found a staircase, took the stairs two at a time, and rounded the balcony just as a man with a crossbow on the opposite side of the hall took aim at the guards. The man’s face was obscured by a cowl but Villi recognised his broad shoulders and the emerald green heartwood of the crossbow.

Gortash pulled the trigger.

The half-orc guard furthest from Villi jerked suddenly, her tusked mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ of surprise as her leg exploded below the knee with a firecracker BANG. A second bolt took off half of her face as she fell to the floor, leaving one eye rolling madly in a mess of red gore.

Villi realised he was being treated to an up-close and personal demonstration of Gortash’s genius, a smokepowder projectile that could be used in close quarters to cause precise injuries while leaving nearby allies with nothing more than the odd singed eyebrow and splattering of gristle. It was brilliant.

He raised his gaze from the mewling soon-to-be-corpse, locking eyes with the remaining guard. It was time to show Gortash what he could do.

Endbringer sang as he looped the sword in a series of wide figure eights. The guard desperately tried to nock another arrow with an unsteady hand, finally finding purchase and drawing the string in time for Villi to cleave clean through his outstretched arm. The Bhaalspawn twisted in a ghastly pirouette and brought the sword down again, hacking nearly all the way through the guard’s neck and shoulder. Warm blood sprayed, the guard gurgled. Villi tugged the blade free and turned back to the balcony to give Gortash a small bow.

Gortash returned the gesture, sweeping an arm across his body and dipping low.

Grinning, Villi pushed away from the railing to make his way back to the ground floor.

The Bhaalists carved their way deeper into the museum, finding victims in the side rooms, galleries, lecture halls, and storage rooms.

A large group converged in the gallery that housed the torture exhibition. By the time Villi arrived two of the racks had already been carried out of the museum’s rear exit, where a number of horse-drawn wagons waited for their grim cargo. Brother Owain had smashed the glass display case that held the skeletal remains of Brother Toop, a lesser Bhaalspawn who had been slain during the Time of Troubles one hundred and twenty years ago, and was now scooping the bits into a burlap sack so they could be added to the ancestral bone pile back in the temple where they belonged.

The plan had not been abandoned. Villi felt a welling of pride in his chest.

Gortash swapped his crossbow for a selection of hand tools after volunteering to help to dismantle the racks. The remaining racks were taken apart in short order, a combination of his expert guidance and, as he explained to Villi while admiring the stretching cuffs, the racks’ own clever design. They had been built to be portable, so that on no occasion should a spot of light torture be missed for want of a handy rack.

Villi lingered in the gallery for longer than he probably should have, watching the Banite’s deft hands at work. Then came the message relayed from the entrance hall; the Flaming Fist were on their way. A mercenary company that strove to keep the peace in the Gate, well-trained and tough, they were the real opponents Villi had been looking forward to facing.

When he called a small band of Deathdealers to follow him and head back towards the main foyer, Gortash picked up his crossbow and joined him by his side.

‘I thought you would travel back with the relics,’ Villi said.

‘I’m with you to the end, my friend,’ Gortash said.

The marble rooms and corridors were silent now save for the purposeful thud of Villi and Gortash’s boots. The assassins with them moved in a whisper. Bhaal’s name and his symbol were painted in blood all over the museum’s walls and floors. Crumpled bodies mainly lay where they fell, but a few had been ‘artistically’ arranged in a series of grisly tableaus around the displays.

Villi and his group just had to keep the Fist occupied outside the entrance for long enough so that the wagons could get lost in the ratways of the Lower City. Then they could make a run for it and celebrate a raid well executed.

‘What is that tune you’re humming?’ Gortash asked as they approached the giant bronze doors.

‘Hm? Oh! I didn’t realise I was,’ Villi said, clearing his throat, pushing the old tribal drinking song to the back of his mind. He was feeling alive , invigorated, and had quite forgotten himself for a moment.

‘You didn’t have to stop. I thought it was quite jaunty.’

‘I’m sure my Butler would disapprove of me singing anything jaunty.’

‘Bollocks to your butler,’ Gortash said.

Villi stifled a bark of laughter behind his hand, covering it with another cough. He chanced a quick glance at Gortash, unsure of what he was looking for, and the man held his gaze for a moment. A moment that was broken when Villi’s followers, invisible once more, ran past them and through the doors and out to the grounds of the museum, like a cabal of blood-stinking spectres to fall upon the closest members of the Flaming Fist.

Gortash raised his crossbow and Villi levelled his sword. Together they charged out into the daylight.

___

‘Let me take a look at that cut,’ Villi said, breathing heavily.

‘I assure you; it’s nothing,’ Gortash panted. Blood dripped from underneath the face mask of his cowl onto his neck.

They were hiding in the back garden of a humble cottage in the Lower City, trying to catch their breath after running from what seemed like an entire battalion of Flaming Fist.

‘Gods, they just kept coming,’ Villi said with a laugh.

Gortash tore off his headpiece in an effort to get more air. ‘Flaming cockroaches. How many did you slay?’

‘I fear I lost count. You?’

‘Twelve and a half.’

‘And a half?’

‘That man will be dead by the ‘morrow.’

‘Doesn’t count,’ Villi said goodnaturedly, straightening up. He cast a knowledgeable eye over the deep gash now visible on Gortash’s chin. The Fist that had managed to slip a blade under Gortash’s mask had appeared from nowhere and disappeared just as quickly. Villi had his suspicions that it might have been Orin, toying with him. It left him feeling rattled. ‘That’s going to scar. I can stitch it up for you, if you’d like. You won’t even know it was there. I’ve had a lot of practice.’

‘No need. I want to keep a memento of today,’ Gortash said.

‘You should at least try to stem the bleeding…here.’ Villi held out a clean pocket square onto which Sceleritas had embroidered his initials in crimson thread. The Butler always insisted that he take a handkerchief before heading out for the day (or night).

‘That is most kind of you,’ Gortash said, tipping his chin up. When he made no move to take the handkerchief, Villi realised that he was waiting for him to do it.

His pulse quickened as he stepped closer and pressed the white cloth to Gortash’s skin, watching as the blood seeped through almost instantly. He pressed harder and Gortash hissed in pain.

‘Don’t stop,’ Gortash said in a low voice, catching Villi’s wrist as he started to pull his hand away.

Villi’s heart was racing.

‘Do you like it when it hurts?’

‘Sometimes.’

Villi pushed his thumb against the damp red patch, feeling a thrill deep in his core when Gortash groaned softly. He didn’t know what they were doing. It felt intimate, sexy. Many years ago, before his time in the temple, he had found a book of ‘romantic literature’ during a raid on a small hamlet. He had devoured it, reading it from cover to cover so many times the spine started to disintegrate. In a camp full of goblins where animalistic coupling took place in plain sight for the most part, often during supper, retiring to his tent and reading about pleasure - slow soft touches, breathless sighs, mouths seeking skin - felt downright perverse. He had enjoyed it immensely.

This was nothing like those stories, but the undertones were there, Villi was sure of it. Or maybe he just hoped they were.

Dread Father forgive him, he hoped they were.

‘You fight well, better than I expected from a Banite,’ Villi said.

‘Coming from you, that sounds like the highest praise,’ Gortash said with a lazy smile. ‘You were magnificent , Villiame. Getting to watch you kill - what a privilege. So lethal, so powerful, beautiful…’ His hands moved to Villi’s waist, and Villi found himself leaning closer, his mouth suddenly dry.

‘I think I want to kiss you,’ Villi said in a rush, not wanting to miss this chance.

‘I want that too.’

‘Only…I’ve never done it before.’

Gortash looked at him in interest as he took the bloody handkerchief from Villi’s hand to tuck it into his own pocket. ‘Truly?’

‘Truly.’

‘Then it would be my honour to tutor you. Just follow what I do, and relax.’

Relax? Villi was wound tighter than a lyre’s sixth string. He managed to nod, and dragged in a shuddering breath as Gortash’s lips covered his own, lips so warm all other thoughts stuttered to a stop. Gortash pressed the full length of his body against him, from chest to thighs to hips. They fit together as if made for one another.

It took a few moments for Villi to adjust to the flood of new sensations, to reclaim enough of his mind to try to return the kiss instead of just standing there like a marble statue. Gortash made an approving noise when Villi slipped his arms around his waist and softened under him.

‘That’s good, try opening your mouth a little,’ he breathed against Villi’s lips, parting them wider with his tongue as soon as he complied.

The intrusion was odd; it made his legs weak. Villi tightened his grip on Gortash, pulling him closer, understanding now why there were so many references to melting in the book he read. Gortash was well practised, skillfully coaxing him into a deeper kiss that left him balancing on the edge of breathlessness.

It was over far too soon. Gortash broke away, chuckling at Villi’s disappointed groan before pressing a consoling peck to his lips. ‘That’s quite enough for your first time, my friend. Besides, this isn’t the ideal place or time for a more in depth lesson.’

Villi took a breath, savouring the way his lips still tingled from the contact. Feeling emboldened, he leaned in and nudged Gortash’s nose with his own. ‘So, where and when would be ideal?’ he asked.

And there it was again - that analytical, careful way Gortash had of looking at him. Like he was dissecting him in his mind. Measuring him up, weighing his organs. Villi shivered, not unpleasantly.

‘If you want more…come to the house tomorrow, say, early evening?’ Gortash said after a moment. ‘I will teach you everything I know, or as much as you can handle.’

‘I–’ Villi paused, willed his voice to stay steady. ‘That sounds– Of course. Yes. Tomorrow.’

Gortash pressed his lips together, as if he was attempting to smother a wider smile. ‘Until tomorrow, then.’

They extracted themselves from their embrace, only getting caught in a snag once when a stud on Gortash’s arm guard hooked into an eyelet on the side of Villi’s torso. Then they parted ways.

Villi’s step was light, despite the ache in his limbs that was starting to set in as every muscle complained about the way he had treated them. He wondered if he looked any different, if Sceleritas would be able to tell at a glance that he now knew what it felt like to be kissed.

Bollocks to his Butler, he thought.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #durgetash #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 durge #bg3 gortash #durge #gortash #durge: Villi

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kining-the-evil · 3 months

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Randy Meeks x reader where he asks her to be his valentine super cheesily although they've been dating for like years? 🥹

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You let out a sigh as you unlocked the door to your apartment pushing it open. You were exhausted from work and just wanted to soak in a bath and get your favorite Chinese restaurant delivered. Randy was always home late on Fridays, doing whatever extra jobs that were needed so he could ‘prove himself’ in the movie industry so you had to fly solo.

You shut the door behind you, leaning against it as you kicked your shoes off. You took a breath before forcing yourself up and towards the bathroom. As you walked by the kitchen a cough was heard, making you jump and let out a scream, hand automatically fiddling with your keys to grab the paper spray you took with you when in town.

“No! Wait, it’s just me!” Hearing your boyfriend’s voice you stoped all movement to actually look into the kitchen. Randy was standing in the kitchen, a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a small stuffed bear on the other.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Randy! You can sneak up on a woman when she thinks she’s alone in her apartment!” You angrily yelled at the man. He quickly set the stuff down to walk over to you.

“I know, I’m sorry!” He rushed out. “I was just trying to surprise you.” Randy wrapped his arms around you while you crossed your arms angrily.

“What are you even doing home? You never take a Friday night off.”

“I had a question for you.” Randy grabbed your arm to pull you to the table to show you the flowers and stuffed bear. “Would you like to be my valentines?” You stood staring at your boyfriend, his nervous smile making a small one crack through your anger.

“You scared the shit out of me to ask me to be your valentines? After three years shouldn’t it be assumed?”

“I know but…I wanted to.” You smiled at his words, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck.

“I’m still mad you scared me, but yes Randy, I’ll be your Valentines.”

“I ordered Chinese food.”

“And suddenly I’m not mad anymore.” You leaned in to kiss him. “I’m gonna get changed, and we can have a movie night okay?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#scream #scream 1996 #randy meeks #randy meeks x reader #scream x reader #randy meeks drabble #valentines day requests #kin’s v day fics #scream drabble

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eraenaa · 16 days

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Loathe to Love

Aemond Targaryen x Strong Reader

Synopsis: Seeking forgiveness is not a thing Aemond bothers himself with, but that quickly changes when he deeply offended you.

Warnings: ¿Softer Aemond?, Mature, 18+, P in V Sex, Fingering, Oral Sex (F receiving), Targcest, Not Proofread

Word Count: 6,411

A/N: Based on a request where they wanted "Reader is Rhaenyra's daughter, who, like her brothers, doesn't have Valyrian characteristics. A scene like at dinner, in which Aemond accuses his nephews of being strong and, consequently, his wife too." (!Not related to the past two fics that were Aemond x Reader Wife!)

A blessing or a curse? Neither of you knew how to take and label this marriage devised by your grandsire. It was a final plea to unite your estranged family, offering you as Aemond’s bride because the King’s fading mind was still set on how you and Aemond were entirely fond of each other in childhood. However, that sentiment had completely changed during the fateful night in Driftmark. Whatever fondness you and your uncle had in childhood had rolled away with the tides in your supposed father’s home. Affection turned into animosity, and animosity quickly turned into resentment.

However, with the marriage you and Aemond were succumbed to, you both tried your most ardent effort to work through past differences. And with half a year since your union, you and Aemond had almost fully buried the grievances you harbored against each other. Gone now was the reluctant prince who stood by the end of Sept waiting for his bride, who was practically dragged down the aisle. Looks of unbridled hatred had faded and turned to looks of passion and longing. Deep-rooted loathing was slowly fading into love that both of you had yet to admit to the other.

You broke fast in the gardens with your husband, a daily tradition that you and him established since the first days of your marriage. Most of the time, it would be just the two of you, but on some days, you two would be joined by his siblings and his mother, who surprisingly did not hold such great bitterness for you when compared to other members of your kin. And on a day such as this, you were joined by the queen and her only daughter, Helaena. “I saw the maids preparing some of the guest chambers. Are we to host a lord and their house, my Queen?” You asked your mother through marriage with a tilt of your head, your hand intertwined with your husband’s under a table, hidden from anyone’s view.

Aemond raised his eye from the book he was reading and placed it on his mother. “Not particularly guests… your mother and your brothers are set to visit,” She replied, and your brows shot up in surprise. Aemond turned to you, plush lips agape in shock. “Did you not know?” The queen asked, and you shook your head. “No… they had not written to me about such matters,” You said, your lips twitching into a smile of excitement as you had terribly missed our family. You turned to your husband; whatever reaction he had was hidden behind his ever-stoic expression. However, you did feel his hold on your hand grow tighter. Though his animosity towards you had died with every kiss shared and every hour spent in each other’s arms, you could not say that that would be the case for the other members of your family. You could practically feel the tantalizing anger within radiating off him.

“I’m going to the tiltyard,” Aemond suddenly announced and abruptly stood up, making you sigh. His mother and sister nodded, but before his departure from breakfast, you felt him place a chaste kiss on your temple before walking off. Leaving you wide-eyed and blushing before his kin for neither of you had displayed such affections so openly. The touches and kisses and pleasures you shared were saved for the privacy of your marital chambers, and to have him do such an affectionate action in front of others was completely uncharacteristic of him. You lower your head as you feel your cheeks burn red, but if you had kept your head held up high, you would see a small smile on the queen’s lips, for she too was shocked and amused by her son’s actions. Never had she imagined for her favored son to find a wife that would bring out the warmth and tenderness in him that everyone believed to be lost the day his eye was taken by your younger brother.

For the rest of the day, you were busied with your engagements with the other ladies of the court to the point that the day had faded into the night. It was past the usual time of your supper, and you were certain your husband was preparing himself for bed, which is why it was a surprise when you entered your marital chambers with Aemond seated by the table where a meal for both of you lay, untouched. “You still have not eaten?” You asked as you stood behind your seat that was across your husband’s. “I was waiting for you,” Was all he said, as he motioned for you to sit. You blinked at him; the warm, flickering light of the fire illuminated his silver locks that were unique to your house but you had not inherited. The silhouette cast made his angular, Valyrian features more prominent, and you could not help but feel a small pang of jealousy, for you were never blessed with such acclaimed features that your house was celebrated for.

You licked your lips and removed your gaze from your husband’s lilac eye. You took your seat and quietly watched him as he placed items of food onto your plate. “You should have eaten earlier,” you said quietly, knowing that Aemond’s last meal was the one you shared in the morning, for your husband did not eat luncheon nor any other small meal to aid him between the morning and the evening. “Like I’ve said, I was waiting for you,” He said as he poured wine into your chalice. You flashed him a small smile of gratitude, and like always, he gave a quiet nod of acknowledgment. “How was your day?” You asked before taking a bit of the temped meal that had been waiting for you along with your husband. “Fine. I trained, I read, and then accompanied my grandsire with business,” he said and took a sip of wine. “And yours?” He asked, and you smiled as you began to recall your day.

Aemond nodded along as he ate, and you went on to tell him about your day. He had no intention of telling you, but this was his second-most favorite time of each day. He quickly had gotten used to listening to you babble and tell him about the ventures you had just hours before. He had no particular care about the subjects of which you spoke of; all he cared about was hearing you speak. Watching you as you would reenact your encounters or how your expression would change when you told him about the latest gossip in court. He would always note how your voice would grow an octave higher when you spoke of an event you found most entertaining or exciting, and he loved gazing into your beguiling, brown eyes that would twinkle in the candlelight.

“Will you accompany me tomorrow?” You asked as you had finished retelling your day to your husband. “To where?” Aemond asked as he was slightly disappointed that you did not have many anecdotes to share that night; you would usually have prolonged stories that Aemond would listen attentively to until he had fished his meal. “To welcome my mother, father, and brothers by the pits when they arrive,” You say and play with the peas on your plate. Aemond was silent for a moment; you took in a deep breath and thought that perhaps your request was a bit much for him. Though you expected him to act civilly with your kin, wanting him to join you in welcoming them was perhaps a bit much. “Nevermind… I ca—“ Your husband interrupted your sentence. “I shall join you,” he said, and your lips agape in shock once more.

Aemond bit his tongue to hinder himself from smiling widely at the expression that flashed before your pretty face. His urges announced himself as his eye caught your plump lips parted; amusement and arousal swirling within him. “You will?” You asked, making certain you had heard no false agreement. “My lady wife had made a simple request; of course, I shall oblige it,” He answered and felt his heart flutter as a beaming smile spread to your lips. Aemond felt fire in his veins as you stood from your seat and went to him to place a supposed chaste kiss on his lips, but Aemond wanted more. You gasped as you were pulled to sit on his lap, your kiss deepening with each moment and your body aching with need as Aemond’s hands were holding your waist and the other cupping your cheek. You feel your husband’s need through his trousers and through your dress.

You moaned at the taste of wine on his tongue. His hand traveled toward your bosom, cupping your tit through the bodice of your dress, his fingers undoing the laces of your gown but the two of you never parted your intertwined lips. Aemond groaned as you accidentally bit his lip, but you would take it that he liked the occurrence as you felt his hips buck upwards and seek friction. Aemond reluctantly parted your lips to gasp for air; he watched you pant, eyes filled with longing and lust, lips swollen and shined with a glossy shine of him.

You yelped as your husband punched you on the table, sweeping away the meal you two had just shared, the plates and cutlery falling onto the floor with a loud noise, but neither of you heard as you two were completely lost and dazed with want for each other. You pulled Aemond towards you as you wanted to feel his lips once more. Aemond had fully undone the laces of your gown, and you felt the sleeves of it draping off and the hem of it being risen by your husband. You hummed in question as you felt Aemond push you to lie down on the wooden table. You propped yourself by your elbows to see what he was doing. Your eyes locked with his lone one as he sank to his knees. The hem of your dress had bundled up to your waist, and Aemond placed his cold hands at each of your thighs.

You bit harshly at your lower lip as he placed kisses on each side of your thighs, nipping the soft skin making you whimper at the stinging pain that he would immediately soothe with his tongue. “Aemond,” you called as he continued to tease you, his tongue licking strips upward to your needing heart but would abruptly stop before inching closer towards the place you need his tongue most. “Yes, wife?” He hummed, and you huffed as you sensed tease in his voice. “Please,” You pleaded in ancient tongue, and there was a long pause before he obliged your request. You breathed heavily as Aemond sucked on your delicate pearl, him humming in delight as he tasted your essence and as well to add to your pleasure.

Your moans accompanied the crackle of the fire as Aemond inserted two of his fingers, him curling the calloused digits and spurring you quickly to your peak. You could not understand how he was so skilled in such endeavors, able to make you quickly come undone even though he confessed himself that before you, he had only laid with a woman once, on the behest of his older brother.

Aemond smirked as he gazed at you laying on the table you two had your meals on, your pretty face that everyone tried to sell as plain still contorted in pleasure that he was the cause of. Aemond brought his fingers to his lips and sucked the essence of you clean, his other hand undoing the laces of his trousers as his cock painfully sought to be inside you. Aemond had always believed himself to be indifferent to the acts of intimacy, but he quickly learned that that sentiment was completely false when it came to you. On the night after your marriage, he had no plan to partake in the marital act, ready to cut his palm and pretend he beaded you so the court would not have a new gossip piece in the morning. However, that plan was quickly forgotten by just the sight of you undressing behind a divider. The candlelight illuminated your form and created a silhouette of your frame undressing and caused Aemond to need greatly. And ever since that night, the pleasures of the flesh he always thought he was indifferent to quickly turned, and he now harbored the same needing patterns he saw in his brother that he used to frown upon.

Aemond locked your lips and assisted you off the table, you had thought he would lead you towards your bed, but you frowned through your kiss as he turned you around in his arms, your back resting against his chest, his pulsating length resting against your still hiked up gown. You feel Aemond’s lips move from your lip to your neck, his cold hands forcing your gown downwards and letting it pool at your feet, leaving you exposed. You whispered as his hands made their way to cup and squeeze your breast. The sensitive buds grew taut at the coldness of touch. You hear Aemond take in a deep breath of your scent, and you let out a bubbling moan as his length is placed in the crevice of your bottom, Aemond letting it glide in between your bum.

You gasped in shock as you felt Aemond push you down onto the table, bending you over the sturdy wood and abruptly entering you without warning. You let out a wry moan as you did not know if you should focus on the pain or pleasure he gave. Aemond bit harshly at his lip as he was incredibly pleasured by the new angle he was taking you in, as well as the sight of you bent over the wooden table. He bundled your dark hair into his hands, feeling the soft silky waves and pulling on it and earning a moan from your lips and caused a further tightening in your cunt. “It would seem that my wife likes to be fucked like a common whore,” He gritted in between thrusts. Aemond knew he pleasured you well, but with this new position, your moans had only grown louder than the past times you had laid. Your cunt grew tighter and more wet, and you were quicker to come undone once more.

“Yes… yes, Aemond! Don’t stop, please, don’t stop!” You cried as he pounded at you from behind. Aemond griped the plump flesh of your behind, watching as the skin grew red from his hold; he moved his hands to your waist as he felt the urge of release coming to him as well. Your moans rang louder in his ears, his name slipping from your lips, urging him to come quickly than past nights. He groaned out your name as he spilled his seed deep inside you, hoping that his seed would finally take as he was already zealous with the thought of you swole with his child. Your dazed mind could barely comprehend Aemond assisting you up from your bent position because all your body could focus on was the peak you had reached and his lips against yours once more. You let your husband carry you to bed, him tucking you in his arms like always, and you drifted to sleep wholly satisfied.

Aemond placed his gaze upon you, who was practically bouncing in excitement at your spot next to him. You two stood by the pits as a welcoming party for your kin. Aemond placed great restrain upon himself to not let his animosity show when he spotted your brothers landing your little dragons. “Sister!” He heard the boy who took his eye scream, and Aemond felt you let go of his hand to run to your brother. He did not want to entertain the small pang in his heart as you readily let go of his hold to run and warmly embrace the boy who had maimed him beyond repair, but he knew that with your marriage, whatever fondness and understanding you and Aemond had and will develop will be divided with your love for your true family.

“Oh, I’ve missed you!” You gushed and kissed Lucerys’ cheek; you smiled widely that even though your brother was on the cusp of adolescence, he melted of talc and your mother’s oils. “Your favoritism is showing, sister,” You hear Jacaerys tease, and you sigh in amusement, letting go of Lucerys and moving to embrace your older brother.

Aemond watched you as you greeted your family with such open warmth and love that he and his kin were never accustomed to. Aemond shifted his gaze to your younger brother, who had a wary look in his oak eyes. Aemond bit his cheeks as he stared down the boy who cowardly shifted his gaze and went closer to you, like a little scared pup hiding behind Aemond’s wife.

“Where are Baela and Rheana?” You asked as you let go of your embrace of Jacaerys, looking around the pits. “They went on the ship along with Joffery and the babes. They shall reach by nightfall,” he answered, and you nodded. Your brother’s gaze shifted between you and your husband, who stood by the side, “How… how are you, sister? Is…” He trailed as Aemond challenged his gaze. You gave him a small smile, “I’m fine, Jacaerys, perfectly fine, better now that you are all here.” You said, and Jacaerys hesitantly nodded, not completely believing your sentiments. “Tala,” You hear yourself being called by your stepfather, who stands beside your mother, and you hurriedly go in their direction. “My sweet girl!” Your mother smiled and kissed your cheek as you went to embrace her. “You look more cheery since we left you. Are they treating you well? Or do I have to behead that cunt of a husband that you have?” Daemon asked, and your smile faltered at his words. “Father,” You warned, and you heard him sigh. “They are treating me perfectly well,” You said, and just like Jacaerys, Daemond gave an unconvinced nod.

You turn to Aemond, who still stands idly by the side; you make hastened steps towards your husband as members of your family remove their riding gear. “Do you wish to return to the keep?” You asked, learning he had grown bored and impatient. He turned his body to face you, his brow raised in question. “I could ride with them in the wheelhouse; you can return to your training if you wish,” You smiled. Aemond studied your eyes; he knew that the words you uttered were for his benefit, but he could not help but think it was you driving him away as you would rather spend time with your family than him.

“It is not that I wish for you to leave, but if you would rather return to your training or reading, I would completely understand,” You added, and Aemond froze at your words; it was as if you could read his mind. He did not know how you did it, but you had this ability to know things about him without him even saying them out loud. He was quick to learn that you could see past his hardened exterior and see the intent and thoughts he kept to himself. You were the only person who knew him with such a deep level of understanding. “It is fine. I shall wait for you, and we could ride back together to the keep,” He said, and his cold heart ran warm as you flashed him with your beaming smile.

“What did they do to her?” Jacaerys asked as he stood near his brother and parents. “That last time we were here, she was completely ready to sail off to Essos just to escape him,” he added, and Daemon shook his head, removing himself from the conversation as he, too, was perplexed at how you completely turned your views towards this marriage. “I believe that is what love does,” Rhaenyra sighed, and Daemon scoffed in ridicule from a distance, and Jacaerys quickly shook his head. “Love? You practically had to drag her down the aisle! That is not love… that is some work by a potion slipped into her wine!” Jacaerys disagreed, and your mother breathed out a laugh. “Believe what you want, but your sister is stronger than to let a potion alter her emotions; that affection is brought by love,” She sighed as she, too, was surprised by the outcome of this marriage but was entirely pleased to learn that you found love in a person that all believed had none.

When all of you returned to the castle, your husband went straight to the tiltyard whilst your parents set off to visit your grandsire. You, however, accompanied your brothers as they wanted to tour around the keep that was once their home. Throughout your whole tour, you could not help but grow curious at the curious and prying glances thrown at the three of you that had faded during the moons of your return to the Red Keep. “They keep staring at us,” You hear Lucerys whisper to Jacareys, who still kept his head held high despite being in the den of vipers.

“Ignore them,” You whispered to your younger brother. You smile as Jacaeyrs pulls Lucerys towards the tiltyard, hurriedly going down the steps to explore the place they used to frequent as children. You stood by the railings, your eyes catching the flutter of silver hair, your husband training with his sword along with Ser Criston, whom he battled with. You stood steady by your spot by the balcony that overlooks the tiltyard, leaning in on the railing as you watched Aemond impressively train with his sword. It was truly a wonder to watch Aemond with his sword; he was able to command the room with each swing and movement he did. Captivating everyone as he simulated the battlefield, even your brothers stopped their reminiscing to watch him train. Far was he from the little boy he tripped over his wooden sword and struggled to even keep it upright.

“Well done, my prince, you will be winning tourneys at no time,” You hear Ser Kristen compliment the prince he had molded into a warrior as the tip of Aemond’s sword placed at the knight’s neck. “I don’t give a shit about tourneys,” You hear your husband reply as you descended down the stairs, making your way to your brothers. “Nephews, have you come to train?” He asked as you paused behind Lucerys and Jacaerys. Aemond’s challenging gaze turned to you, who announced her presence. You stared into his lilac eye and saw it somewhat softened. Aemond clenched his jaw and lowered his sword as the crowd that surrounded him began to dissolve. A clear path leading to you was made, and Aemond crossed it, forgetting about his want to challenge his nephews.

“You were most impressive with your sword,” You complimented lowly as you felt Aemond guide you to the side, and he placed his hand on your lower back. “I am glad that you found that impressive, little wife,” He hummed and wiped his sword, ignoring the stares of your brothers who stood by the side. “Perhaps I should wonder more often to the tiltyard; I would not want to miss an opportunity to watch my husband best the most acclaimed knights of the realm.” You feel your heart flutter as Aemond’s lips twitch into a small smirk. “Perhaps you should,” He said, unable to control the amusement that laced his voice and shinned brightly in his eye.

“Do you believe what Mother says? That they are in love?” Jacaerys whispered to Lucerys, who looked at you smiling upon your husband, “I… I do not know, perhaps,” he whispered as he noted that the smile on your lips was no pretense nor was it forced. And the gleam in your eyes could only be translated into love. Lucerys shifted his gaze back to his brother as you walked off and Aemond returned to training. “But how? How could our sister love someone like him?” Jacaerys asked incredulously, his voice growing a bit louder.

Aemond clenched his jaw as he heard your brother’s words. It was a danger to all that rage was quickly bubbling inside him, and he had a weapon in his hold. The one-eyed prince took in deep breaths to calm himself, reminding himself that you were just by the side waiting and watching him.

But a gnawing feeling in his gut had settled, and he too started to wonder as to how you could ever love someone like him. It is no secret that you and he were raised with opposing views of the world and even clashing families as well. His mother never approved of how your mother had raised you; everything about yours and your brother’s conception and upbringing had brought shame upon the Targaryen name and reputation. And the years before were nothing short of hatred. Yes, the both of you were fond of each other in childhood, but is that enough to undo the following years of animosity and contempt? Will these past moons that were filled with shared understanding and longing be enough to undo the resentment of the past?

It was enough for him. You were enough of a reason for him to let go of the grudges and grievances harbored. By some divine, paradoxical power, your blessed touch was the only touch that could tend and stitch Aemond’s broken past created by your own kin. Even with all the traditions and honor that were desecrated by your mere birth, Aemond could not help but love you, even if he had not said it out loud. No matter your differences, no matter the truth of your illegitimacy, he loved you truly.

However, that overflowing affection he had towards you was for you and you alone. The civility he knew that he should display was slipping out from his hold as old hatred for your brothers was starting to wake, and Aemond was not entirely certain if he could control the burning rage in his veins once more.

You sat next to your husband for a rare family dinner; it was the first time the whole of your clan had been together since your and Aemond’s wedding. You smiled fondly as Baela and Rhaena had already arrived along with your youngest brothers, who were now fast asleep in the nursery. You kept your secret hold on Aemond’s hand as the dinner proceeded, your heart full of joy as you wanted to erase the emotions you were feeling the last time the whole of the family was together with something more pleasant. Gone now was the hatred and agony you felt in your heart as your grandsire ordered your marriage with Aemond. The only thing you now felt for your husband was love. It could be considered ridiculous that with just half a year of marriage, all the deep-rooted anger and ire from the past had completely decimated and turned into blooming love, but that was the truth of it.

“It both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table.” The king said “The faces most dear to me in all the world, yet grown so distant from each other in the years past.” His final plea for peace was supposed to be yours and Aemond’s marriage, but that seemed to do little for the others to bury the grievances made years before. Your hold on Aemond’s hand tightened as you Grandsire removed his mask and exposed his decaying face. “My own face is no longer a handsome one… if indeed it ever was. But tonight, I wish you to see me as I am. Not just a king… But your father.” He said and turned to his children, “Your brother,” the king turned to Daemon. “Your husband,” he said to the queen. “And your grandsire.” He finished turning to you and your siblings. “Who may not, it seems…walk for much longer among you. Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts.” He ended.

You were so entrapped by the speech given by your grandsire that you had not even realized that in the midst of that heartfelt moment, your husband was having a contest of stares amongst your brothers. Not a word by the king affected nor lessened the hatred in their hearts for each other.

You watched and listened intently as toast from both sides of your families started to circulate to the table, obliging the king’s request for civility and the possibility of unification for your house. By the end of the toasts, the intimate feast once more commenced, and your smile only grew with each passing moment of peace. However, it was quickly taken from you as a roasted pig was placed in front of you and Aemond, our gaze flying to your younger brother, who snickered as he recalled the cruel jest they made at Aemond’s expense years before. “Lucerys,” you hissed sharply in warning. Your heart skipped a beat as your husband let go of your hold and slammed his clenched fist on the table, rendering the room silent. “Final tribute,” He announced, the attention of the entire room upon him.

“To the health of my nephews. Jace… Luc… and Joffery,” He began, and you felt your hands grow cold at his words, already knowing where this would lead. “Each of them handsome, wise…” He trailed, catching your eyes that pleaded for him to stop and not speak of offense. He, however, ignored your pleas. “Strong,” He ended, and you feel your heart painfully pit in your chest. Your gaze flew to your lap, and you softly shook your head in disappointment, for you had foolishly believed that your husband would at least grow somewhat sensitive at the matter of you and your brother’s true paternity. “Come. Let us drain our cups to these three strong boys!” He announced, and you felt a painful twist in your stomach.

The peaceful meal between your kin that you had longed for had turned ugly and violent; you shook your head as your husband and his brother, along with your brothers, waltzed back into old patterns and began to brawl and fight each other. You shook your head and stood from your seat, quietly exiting the room and leaving the fight that the other tried to break up. Aemond watched your departing figure, disappointment oozing off your frame as you exited the hall. He turned to your brothers' red and angered faces, and it only dawned upon him the severity of his offense. He was ready to go after you, but his mother pulling on his arm hindered him, the queen scolding her grown son as if he were a boy.

Moments after, Aemond rushed to your chambers in dire need to speak with you, but you were not there. Aemond walked the darkened corridors of the keep, searching every spot you would frequent but to no avail. Aemond halted in his steps as he heard footsteps and voices approaching. “I’ve told you that they were not suited for each other,” Aemond heard your stepfather say, voice enraged. “You saw how openly he disparaged and humiliated her and her siblings— what more if they were behind closed doors?” Daemon seethed, him having half the mind to march to the king and demand an annulment of your marriage with Aemond.

Aemond clenched his fists in anger as he heard how low the opinion of your stepfather had of him, but that anger was being overpowered by guilt as he recalled your pleading face earlier as you quietly begged him not to speak offense. But Aemond could no longer control himself as being in the presence of your brothers brought back the uninhibited rage he genuinely thought he could control for your sake. Aemond took in a deep breath and stomped off, determined to find you. He scoured the entirety of the keep in search of you, with each passing moment that you were not found added to his guilt and the pang in his chest. It was nearing the hour of the wolf, and Aemond still had not found you. Aemond rarely felt fear; he refused to be in fear of anything, but just by just the mere hours of your absence had him drowning in dread and despair.

Aemond thought of retiring back to your chambers and perhaps try to find you when the sun had risen, but his body could not physically rest without your presence. Aemond found him straying towards the gardens, his feet carrying him towards the weirwood tree that you two had often frequented in childhood. He halted in his steps as he heard quiet sobs and sniffling, his knees growing weak at the sight of your body curled upon the trunk of the tree, your face in your hands as you tried to stifle your sobs. Aemond made cautious steps towards you, swallowing thickly as he had never succumbed to such guilt and pain before; it was unbearable to see you cry— more so for he knew that the reason for your tears was him.

Aemond felt his breathing caught in his throat as you lifted your gaze, and your bloodshot eyes met his. “Why?” You managed to ask, your voice hoarse and filled with emotion. It was too much; Aemond wanted to fall to his knees and ask for your forgiveness; he could not take the way you stared up at him with such great sadness. “Why… why would you do such a thing? Why could you not l…” You could not even make yourself finish your words as a bubbling sob of angered sadness took over you. You tightly shut your eyes as Aemond fell on his knees before you, trying to take hold of your hand, but you over away from his touch.

“I know of the resentment you have for my siblings— for me because we are bastards and because Lucerys had taken your eye. It was foolish for me to think that with our marriage, perhaps that enmity in you would lessen or at least be concealed enough that you would not seek out revenge so… so openly and as well as disparage me and my honor,” You say, your voice shaking as you try to take hold of your cries. ��I did not mean to offend you; that was not aimed toward you,” Aemond said, and you shook your head. “They are my brothers, Aemond. Questioning their paternity means to question mine as well. Wounding them would be wounding me as well,” You countered and shook your head as Aemond moved to take hold of your hands.

“I… I know it is difficult for you to be subjected to a room with my kin— especially my brothers, but could you not have let this one-night slide past peacefully? I am not seeking out your forgiveness; I was just hoping for something that resembled peace, just for one night,” You said lowly, voice trembling with your sobs and the cool night air that gusted around the gardens. Aemond sighed and rested his head against your clasped hands, still on his knees as you sat before him dejectedly. “I’m… I’m sorry, my love,” He whispered, and you froze, trying to decipher if you had heard him correctly. Never once had you heard him apologize nor use such an endearment.

“I apologize. I was consumed by my anger, and I could not control my rage. I should have kept my composure,” He said and looked up at your face, tear-stained cheeks flushed with sadness, bloodshot eyes in question, and pink lips agape in mystification. “I’m sorry,” Aemond said once more and placed a kiss on your knuckles. The word felt foreign on his tongue, but at the same time, it rolled effortlessly as he knew it would be his saving grace not to lose you. You sat quietly, uncertain what to reply, though you had been enveloped in rage and sorrow, by Aemond’s actions, it somehow miraculously faded by his words and touch.

“You called me ‘love’,” was all you could manage to say, the word still ringing in your ears even though you knew you should focus on the other matter. Aemond scrunched his brows as he gazed at your face, “I… I suppose I did,” He said, not even realizing the word slipped out his lips. He had been wanting to call you that endearment for weeks now, but he thought you would not take it well or that the softness and affection of it would lessen his stoic exterior. “Do you love me?” You could not help but ask, preparing yourself for the blow if it proves that your judgment was false. Aemond’s cold hands turned a degree colder as you asked the question. With each moment of silence, you feel your heart pit further, your mind scolding you for asking such a query. After another moment of prolonged silence, you sighed and were ready to stand, ready to mourn a different type of sadness.

“Of course I do,” Aemond finally spoke, “I love you,” He added, determined for you to believe his words. You were stunned at his confession that words eluded you, and all you could do was pull him close and kiss his lips. “I do not care about your paternity. I don’t think I ever truly did… I only acted as such to appease my mother and her father. And I know I have played the part well, acting as if I harbor loathing for you ever since childhood, but I could never resent you, not truly.” Aemond sighed as your lips parted, and you smiled widely against his lips. Tears of melancholy turned into tears of glee.

“You love me,” You mused as you cupped his cheeks, your thumb gently brushing the raised skin of his scar. “I love you.” Aemond confirmed, and he hummed as you kissed his lips once more. The events at supper were long forgotten as you and he finally shared the affection you both harbored long ago but were just too afraid to say out loud.

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