Hi! I was wondering if you were going to do a pt. 2 of the ghost and thief reader post? Also, I hope you drink enough water and have an amazing day!
Simon Riley - Medieval Au Part 2
Knight Simon Riley x Thief Reader
Tears stream down your face and your heart pounds out of your chest as he drags you inside of a cottage just out of town. You continue to beg him not to kill you, clutching at his wrist. He shuts the door behind him with a slam, and you choke out more sobs, he's gonna do something worse than kill you.
His grip loosens on the collar of your worn shirt, and he grabs your bicep instead. You finally start to notice that you aren't in the dungeons, and you are so confused. You glance around, eyes flickering over the room. He's brought you to his home, and by the looks of it, he is a very high ranking official.
Your sobs stop in a moment of confusion as he drags you by the arm to his washroom. It's a miniature bathhouse, you've only ever dreamed of such luxury. The floors are ornate, handmade tiles and you can smell all of the expensive soaps. He closes the washroom door and he sits you roughly against the wall, you start to cry again as he takes off his armor.
He removes his helmet last, and he is the most angelic person you've ever seen. It's ironic to even call him angelic after the treatment he has put you through in the last 20 minutes. He ignores your crying as he takes off his boots and rolls up his sleeves. You scramble away as he approaches you again.
His face betrays no emotion as he grabs you by you arm again. He sits you back in the original spot he had placed you in by the door.
“Don’t fucking move.” He lears at you, and he seems satisfied when you freeze in fear of his tone. He narrows his eyes and lets go of your arm. He goes to the corner on the other side of the door where he starts to warm up some water over a fire. It's a giant metal basin, and you shakily watch as he fills it up to the brim. He makes sure the fire is big enough to warm up the water. He glances back at you to make sure that you haven't moved.
After several minutes, steam starts to fill the small bathhouse, and the air gets warmer. You watch the man with wide eyes as he makes sure the water is warm enough, and he effortlessly bumps the basin into the porcelain bathtub in the middle of the room. He returns to the fire and refills the basin full of water, then he turns to you.
You begin to cry as he grabs you, he doesn’t seem to be as rough anymore. He shushes you as he takes off your shirt, and you scratch and fight him. He seems annoyed but he makes no comment as you try to fight him.
He pulls your trousers off as you cry and sob, begging him to not hurt you. He picks you up by your underarms and he plops you into the warm bathtub. You are shaking from fear, you've never had a warm bath before. The water is nice but not nice enough to fight off the thoughts of what he might do to you.
He looks over his several bottles of soap, you’ve never seen a bottle up close before. He decides on a green glass bottle, and he pops the cork off and he dumps the soap onto the top of your head and the rest into the warm bath water. He starts to scrub you clean, starting with your hair.
His movements are very firm, like he wants to scrub your skin off. You feel so vulnerable and exposed by his treatment of you.
“You're not as filthy as I thought’ you’d be..” He says to you, rinsing your hair out with a clay bowl and the warm water from the basin over the fire. He moves to scrub your arms with a rag and more soap from the green bottle. You finally notice how nice it smells, like wild mint and rosemary.
“Makes things easier for me.” He mutters the last part as he finishes cleaning you up. He picks you up out of the bath as you continue to sob quietly. He rinses you off with the clean and warm basin water. You feel goosebumps all over your body as the heat from the water quickly leaves you. You curl into a ball on the tiled floor and shake from the cold and the fear of the unknown.
He dries you off with a towel, and he wraps you in it. He picks you up and puts you back by the door. You shiver and try to cover yourself up more as you watch him empty the bathtub of dirt water. He pours the water outside his window using another large clay bowl as you dry off.
You can’t believe that this is happening to you. Is he going to sell you for money? Is that why he gave you a bath, so you could sell for more? You can only imagine, and the thoughts of horrible things seem to consume you.
Summary : you were once his true love, the woman he promised the world to. Now he was king steven Rogers and you were a witch, a vile woman hated by the whole kingdom. What happens when he meets you after all these years,he needs your help.
Pairing: king steve rogers x witch reader
Warning: angst. Inaccurate medieval description. Reference to Smut. Dark Steve rogers. Witch reader .
You stood before the king of Brookenhaim. A man of righteousness and bravery to many, but you knew him differently.
You did not bow to him much to everyone's surprise. You stood there just they way his guards brought you.
"the kingdom needs your help witch." Steven announced .
You stood in silence . You knew what they all thought of you, you were nothing more than an evil creature to them. Someone who shouldn't be among them. Yet they wouldn't hesitate running to your apothecary when their children were sick, or men were wounded.
"something has struck my first in command , knight barnes." Steven continues. "We suspect sorcery, he hasn't been the same , turning into a mindless killer ."
"that could just be him." You said ,looking at the blonde king , you knew it would get under his skin.
"that is not him, I know james, he is different now , he doesn't recognise me."
"maybe we should speak in solitude your majesty " you said the last words maliciouly.
"you think we'll trust you to leave you alone with our king?" one of his guards said.
"it's not new to king steven, being alone with me"
That was it, it broke something in steve, his pupils turned dark, he commanded everyone out of the hall with a flick of his finger.
He took a few sharp strides forward, "do you think this is funny witch? Do you want to get yourself killed? "
" is that the worse you can do rogers?"
"i could do much worse, the mercy I've been showing you all these years is the reason the town folk haven't burnt you alive." He said as a matter of fact.
" right, no one would dare to burn one of the king's concubines."
Steven gritter his teeth .
"do all your concubines get the same treatment rogers? A show of "mercy"?"
"stop it, you're not a concubine you know it , stop saying that ." He said pressing you again the wall.
" what's in calling a rose what it is? " You said pushing him back using your magic.
"not a word, i do not wish to discuss of the part that was beyond our control. Now go fix barnes." He said firmly.
"fix him? Use my magic and possibly get killed by a mindless soldier for free?".
"i will pay you in gold."
"50,000 gold coins" you said thinking he won't possible agree to give such a huge sum.
"fine " steven was intresting sometimes.
Bucky was never kind to you , as far as you'd remember. Always trying to keep steven away from you , saying you were a witch and witches can't be with a future king. Steven defied those words of course.
But was he really unkind to you, or was he just protecting you from a broken heart and the harsh truths of the world?
You went to the cell in which the soldier was locked up.
You entered it carefully. "James..." you didn't have time to think before an arm wrapped around your neck, lifting you off the ground.
It was him, "bucky" barnes, as you used to call him. And he was choking the life out of you. You used the first sleeping spell you remebered on him, letting the knight fall to the ground.
You examined him carefully.
"so you're telling me it's not magic of your kind?" The blonde king asked. He noticed the marks in your throat of course but kept himself from saying something.
" no it is the crimson kind, not witchcraft."
Steve thought about it for a moment.
" and there is nothing you can do about it, i suppose?"
" there is a way ."
Steven frowned, his brow furrowed in confusion. "The northern mountains? What could possibly be there that could help us?" He asked, his tone skeptical as he tried to understand your proposed plan.
"there is a plant there that could free people struck by crimson magic."
"It won't be an easy journey, especially during winter," He continued, shaking his head and sighing. "It's dangerous and cold up there. You sure it's the only way?" His mind was a mix of doubt and hope, torn between the risks and the chance of saving Bucky.
"it is the only chance we have." You say.
Steven closed his eyes tightly, taking a deep breath to compose himself. "Alright," He said, his voice steady. "You'll need provisions, soldiers.I'll have my men prepare what you need. When do you want to leave?"
"i don't need your "men"" you say defiantly.
Steven was taken aback by your response, his eyes widening at your rejection. "Excuse me?" He said, his tone suddenly sharp. "What do you mean, you don't need them?" He tried to contain the growing annoyance in his voice, his patience wearing thin.
"I do not wish to be stuck in the mountains with men who think they are above me, you don't see the way the look at me? "
Steven pursed his lips, his annoyance turning into a hint of guilt and jealousy . He knew the way his men looked at you, some with disgust ,some with lust, both of which made his blood boil.
"I suppose that's true," He admitted reluctantly. "But they're skilled. They can help you fend off any dangers on the journey."
"I'm a witch rogers,i can fend for myself"
Steven's jaw clenched at your defiance. "Clearly, you cannot," He retorted, his words sharp and cold. "Your magic is weakened by the crimson I can tell and you're just a woman. You're not going on a journey like this by yourself. End of discussion."
"Since when do you care about my well being ?" Were you really going there? Steven was appalled by your words.
Steven's features softened for a brief moment, the hint of vulnerability slipping through his stern facade. "I care about my kingdom," He replied firmly, his eyes locking onto yours. "And as much as I dislike it, you're an asset to my kingdom. Your well-being directly impact Brookenhaime's stability. I can't afford for you to be putting yourself in danger foolishly."
"I'd rather kill myself than go up the mountain with your men "
Steven's face hardened once again, his protective instinct kicking in despite his irritation. "That doesn't matter," He retorted, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his fists. "This isn't a competition of who is better. You're not invincible, and you are not risking your life needlessly ."
"i leave at dawn."
Steven stood there for a moment, his back to the door, a mix of emotions warring within him. Frustration, anger, and something else he couldn't quite identify. He watched you walk out the door.
Centuries after the dissolution of monasteries across Middle-earth, you decide to explore old ruins out of curiosity. That is when you stumble upon a manuscript lodged among the rubble of an old library. You cannot believe your eyes... You have found the long-lost Liber Vitae in Terra Media.
Prologue ~ Incipit Inventionem Tuam
Chapter One ~ Fabula de Monacho Dolente Faramiri
Chapter Two ~ Fabula de Nobili Capitaneo Boromire (coming soon)
thinking about the mediaeval au again and I think Near would tend to the gardens. most of the characters are in/around the palace, huh?
Yeah he wears a giant hat because he hates the sun and goes around watering flowers and watching people from a safe distance. I imagine he'd sort them by colours, maybe make patterns and art that can be seen from the palace windows. Like Floriade! Or whatever the non Australian version of that is ahaha 🎶💐
I think he ties up bouquets in old fabric and string and drops them off at servants' or townspeoples' and even the royal family's doorsteps. He leaves anonymous notes and the flowers always please the recipient; he has an eye for the right smells and colours they would like. Everyone kind of suspects it's the quiet kid with snow white hair who's leaving the sweet gifts but he doesn't seem too bothered about being acknowledged.
Apart from that, he spends a lot of time staring at the clouds and thinking. Going into town and thinking. Going to see Mello (the blacksmith's apprentice) and thinking and giving him designs for ideas he has to improve the quality of life.
Yeah. I wanna draw him.!! and all the mediaeval au...
Summary: Sam and Jack have received Dean’s permission to be mated, but at the ceremony he gives his younger brother one final condition on his matrimony: Dean wishes to invoke the ancient right of Prima Nocta.
Pairing: Alpha!Sam x Hybrid!Jack / Alpha!Dean x Hybrid!Jack
Rating: 18+
Warnings: Dubious Consent, Coercion
Tags: Medieval AU, Omegaverse, Wedding Night, Virgin!Jack, Virgin!Sam, Lord!Dean, Knight!Sam, Peasant!Jack, Alpha!Sam, Alpha!Dean, Hybrid!Jack, Dark!Dean, Dean is a Grade A Asshole, Age Difference (Jack is 18), Humiliation/Degradation Kink, Exhibitionism/Voyeurism, Loss of Virginity, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Oral Sex
Word Count: 3,510
Created for: @spnkinkbingo - Omegaverse | @spnabobingo - Marriage of Convenience | @anyfandomgoesbingo - Wedding Night | @winklinebingo - Mediaeval AU | @j3bingo - Hybrid | @samwinchesterbingo - First Time / Virginity | @spndeanbingo - Fuck or Die
Sam splashed his face with cold water from the basin by the window. His servant handed him a cloth to dry off with, the rough spun fabric scraping over the few days old stubble still gracing his cheeks. He briefly contemplated shaving, but then recalled how young Jack had told him he liked the short beard when they’d spoken the day before. If his future husband found it pleasing, then he would leave it.
He knew his older brother would have some jape for him, would be astounded that he’d want to look so unkempt for his wedding day, but it wasn’t Dean’s opinion that mattered anymore. Once he was married, Sam would be out from beneath his brother’s roof and rule, and he could finally inherit the small estate his father had bequeathed him upon his death. His sole condition had been that Sam must not take up possession of the property until he’d married and mated a suitable omega.
That had been an issue until very recently, because none of the high born families in a reasonable vicinity had produced an omega for generations. Dean’s omega, Delphine, had ridden for days to reach their modest stronghold – no one would put in such effort for a second born son like Sam, only a mere knight, and not a great lord like his brother.
Sam had looked to the villages next, not particularly discerning about his future partner’s blood lineage, especially as Delphine had already produced Dean an heir for their family’s titles and holdings. But his search had proved unyielding in its first instance, the peasants on their estate being mostly betas, with the odd alpha and omega already coupled up, which was of no use to Sam, unless he wanted to challenge another alpha to a duel for their mate, and none of the available omegas were so comely as to tempt him down that path.
Then last week whilst drinking in the village tavern, Sam met a young peasant boy, and something very peculiar happened. When he first entered the tavern, Sam had looked around to see who the newcomer was, but beyond noticing that it was an attractive young man, he hadn’t given it any further thought. Nothing stood out about him. Sam turned back to Adam and continued to indulge in their flagons. A moment later however, when the peasant approached the landlord in search of a pint of his own, he brushed against Sam’s back in error, and their whole worlds had shifted.
A new scent became apparent amidst the muted stink of the tavern, and Sam’s nose perked up, recognising something astonishing beneath the aromas of honey, goldenrod, and freshly churned butter: omega. Jack – which was the young man’s name – had been just as shocked as Sam upon sensing the change to his constitution, having lived his whole life up until that moment believing that he was a beta.
Hybrids, as Jack turned out to be, were even more rare than omegas. He had the ability to shift his presentation at will, and meeting Sam had been the catalyst for his first transformation. He had shifted to omega because Sam’s alpha instincts had sensed the presence of a potential mate. After a brief negotiation with Jack’s mother, Sam had secured the promise of Jack as his mate, therefore finally gaining the right to his own inheritance.
Today was the day that Dean, as their Lord, would seal their bond and proclaim their mating sanctioned, after which Sam fully intended to carry his new omega off to their new home and ravage him until he was growing round with child. The ravaging likely wouldn’t cease once Jack was quickening, though. Sam had never lain with an omega, nor anyone else for that matter, but based on his elder brother’s indecorously vivid descriptions of the act, he imagined that once he got a taste, he would never want to stop.
Sam knelt in his best red tunic at the top of the hall. Dean stood two steps above him on the raised dais that held the high family’s table. The lighthearted strumming of a lute filled the hall as the sound of the heavy iron door at the opposite end swinging open echoed piercingly in the grey stone chamber. Sam could sense as soon as Jack entered the room, bringing his warm, sunny, and submissive scent with him. He wondered if it smelt even stronger today because he knew he was about to make the boy his own.
Jack was escorted to Sam’s side by his mother, who placed one of his small and delicate hands into Dean’s outstretched palm, and with heavy ceremony, Dean transferred Jack’s hand into Sam’s. He spoke the affirming words, transferring the care and ownership of Jack from his family to Sam, as his new lord and master. The ceremony was traditional for all mating pairs, not just for alphas joining with omegas, but the language was particularly apt in the given circumstances.
The feast and revelries that followed the mating ceremony were unexpectedly arduous for Sam, who was usually one to enjoy a fine meal and strong wine, but tonight all he could think of was carrying his mate to bed and knotting him into the mattress. He had a notion that Jack may have felt the same way, because the boy kept glancing at him shyly throughout the evening, his pale skin flushing a delicious apple pink every time Sam caught him looking.
As the night finally drew to its conclusion, Dean called for the attention of the merrymakers, raising his goblet in the traditional toast to the newly mated couple. In truth, Sam’s ears had filled with an excited humming that drowned out the majority of his brother’s clichéd well wishes, and it was only when Dean clapped him firmly on the back that Sam’s attention jolted away from his fantasies of tearing the sky blue linen tunic off of Jack’s body the very instant they were alone in his chambers.
“I know my younger brother, Sir Samuel–”
Sam rolled his eyes, Dean had always mocked him for his lesser title and his status as a second son.
“–will make a fine mate for young Jack. Although…” Dean paused for dramatic effect, surveying the room that held almost everyone their family knew, relatives and villagers alike. “I have one very important condition that must be met before these two can officially be joined.” Dean wiggled his eyebrows at Sam on the word ‘officially’ and Sam scoffed at his brother’s immaturity.
The eldest brother reached for his belt and withdrew his short iron dagger, its edge darkened and sharp. Sam let out a huff of breath, unamused. Here come the beard jokes, he thought wryly. It had been foolish of him to believe that Dean could make it through the entire night without mocking his little brother’s appearance. He wondered if Dean would try to shave him right here at the table.
However, Dean didn’t turn his dagger on Sam but faced towards Jack, and plunging the knife into the table before the boy, he proclaimed:
“As your liege Lord, I, Dean Winchester, hereby declare my intention to undertake the Lord’s right to Prima Nocta!”
“Dean what the hell?!” Sam railed against his brother as Jack sat on the edge of the Lord’s bed, cowering in fear.
They were in Dean’s chambers, the grandest and largest in the manor. His bed was deep walnut, with intricately carved pillars spiralling up towards the immensely high ceiling, crowned with an elegant canopy of crushed velvets and woven silks. The covers on the feather mattress were of the same costly fabrics. Jack had never been near so much wealth and luxury in all his eighteen years. But it didn’t make him more comfortable, it made him feel ever more out of place than he had expected.
Of course, Jack had never expected this.
No one would have dreamt that Dean would claim his right to Prima Nocta. Jack had forgotten about the custom entirely; it was something out of the stories his mother had told him as a small child, not something that happened anymore. Clearly, Sam hadn’t anticipated his brother’s actions either. That gave the boy some small measure of comfort: his new mate hadn’t agreed to share him with his brother like a possession that could be passed between the two of them on a whim. Jack had heard stories about that sort of thing happening to omegas, too.
“Sam, please, you’ll make yourself look ridiculous in front of your little bride,” Dean scoffed, malice and mirth twinkling behind his forest green eyes. Jack had thought they were beautiful the first time he saw them, but now they seemed cold and cruel. His cheeks flushed in angry embarrassment at Dean’s comment, ashamed to be thought so little of, and Dean noticed the young boy’s reaction.
“Oh, I’m sorry, did I offend your poor omega sensibilities?” Dean chided in evident amusement, and Jack growled, feeling himself shift defensively to his beta state. The tension in the air tangibly thickened. “That’s right, I forgot, Sammy went and got himself a little freak for a mate. He’s not even a real omega,” the lord scoffed, shooting Sam a disparaging look.
Jack trembled on the bed, eyes flicking to Sam, begging for some kind of help or reprieve. He didn’t understand why Sam wasn’t fighting back: he was an alpha the same as his lordly brother, and he was a knight – he was more than capable. But then the candle by the bed spat and the flame sputtered, and in he interrupted light Jack understood. Dean had his dagger held subtly in his left hand, pointing towards Sam with obvious warning.
Sam couldn’t do anything to stop his brother taking what he wanted without bloodshed. It was Dean’s right, after all, as Lord, to claim what he had. Jack couldn’t ask Sam to harm his family when they hadn’t even done anything wrong, technically. Dean may be morally reprehensible in their eyes, but in the eyes of the law, he was merely exercising one of the many rights afforded to him by his blood and title.
“Now,” Dean shifted his stern gaze between Sam and Jack intermittently as he spoke, “are we going to behave like big boys and get through this with some fucking dignity, or are you going to force my hand?”
The knife flashed in the shimmering candlelight once more, and Jack swallowed nervously, looking to Sam for guidance. The knight looked back at him with a thousand apologies in his eyes, but Jack didn’t need to hear them. He knew this wasn’t Sam’s fault, and he didn’t want to make this any more difficult on his new mate than it already was by fighting against his fate. Trembling, he slipped from the silken covers to the cold stone floor, a chill running through his bones as he sank to his knees.
“I submit to your will, milord,” Jack murmured, keeping his eyes downcast. He was too ashamed to see what Sam would think of him.
“Good boy,” Dean crowed happily, and Jack felt soft fingers run through his hair condescendingly, as if Dean was stroking some pet.
“Dean, please,” Jack heard Sam beg, his voice pregnant with near hysteria. “Don’t do this,” he pleaded, but Dean merely laughed.
“Too late for that, little brother. I proclaimed my intentions before everyone we know, they would never respect me if I backed down because you asked me to,” Dean sighed. “Even if you do sound real pretty, begging me like that.”
Dean’s fingers lodged beneath his chin, tilting it skywards, and Jack felt his stomach lurch. The man grinned down at him with evident hunger and pulled the boy to his feet.
“Are you ready to be a good little omega again, and let me show my brother the proper way to put sluts like your kind in their place?” the lord hissed, his fingers pinching Jack’s skin painfully, and he nodded, wincing. After a few deep breaths, Jack felt his constitution morph back to his omega state. “Good boy,” Dean cooed again, evidently able to tell the difference via scenting him.
“Now, watch and learn, Sammy,” Dean shot a grin over his shoulder to where Sam was standing, stoically silent, against the tapestry covered wall.
Jack flinched as Dean tore the seams of his new tunic, leaving it to drop limply at his feet, before he unlaced his own and pulled it over his head, revealing a body tanned and toned from fighting, but still soft from indulgence in the luxuries that came with wealth. He wondered if this would be easier if he let himself admit that he found Dean attractive, or if that only made the situation even more shameful. But whether he admitted it or not, his body found Dean attractive, liked the way he was running his soft fingertips over his naked chest towards the tie that was keeping up his hose and braies. With one quick tug the garments came loose from his thin frame and fell to the floor, exposing his nakedness to his mate’s elder brother, while his own alpha watched on helplessly.
The lord jerked his head in the direction of the bed, and Jack crawled obediently across the feather mattress and shimmering silks to kneel on all fours by the velveteen pillows at the top. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Sam’s hand twitch, but then his alpha was still once more.
“Look at this submissive bitch, Sammy,” Dean laughed jubilantly, walking into Jack’s eyeline now completely nude; his manhood pointing proudly up between his legs was nearly the length of the dagger and its hilt combined. The boy whimpered at the sight, clenching reflexively at the thought of being penetrated by that. Despite the anxiety its size caused him, it still wasn’t an unpleasant thought. “Wonder if he’s leaking yet,” the lord fixed his younger brother with an arrogant smirk.
“Dean, shut up and fucking do it already,” Sam snapped, his turmoil evident in the painful strain to his tone. Watching his brother take such pleasure in degrading Jack was torturing the poor knight.
“S-sam.” To his mortification, Jack found his voice was weak and shaky, but it wasn’t with fear – it was arousal. He was leaking slick profusely, just as Dean had predicted he would. Something about the utter humiliation of the incident was affecting Jack in ways he’d never imagined were possible. His mate’s eyes snapped to him instantly upon hearing his name, and Jack flinched when he saw the pain in Sam’s expression. He had to make Sam feel better, somehow; his alpha was hurting and it was because of him.
“Can Sam come here, please?” Jack asked submissively, directing his question to Dean this time, hoping that if they played by the rules, their lord would be more lenient.
“Please, what?” Dean cupped a hand to his ear mockingly, reaching down and beginning to stroke his cock while his gaze devoured the omega waiting dutifully for him on his bed. Jack swallowed hard, trying to choke down his whimper of arousal at seeing Dean touch himself.
“Please, Alpha,” Jack blushed in shame, dropping his head between his shoulders and squeezing his eyes tightly shut. “Please can Sam come be with me, while… while you…” he tapered off, unable to give words to the acts of depravity he was sure were about to occur between the two of them.
“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Dean agreed, a dark humour in his tone. “Sammy needs an up close and personal lesson on how to fuck an omega so good they’re begging you to never stop.” He crouched down beside the bed and turned Jack’s face towards him, forcing his eyes open so the boy had to look at him. “See, Sammy’s a virgin,” Dean whispered conspiratorially, but clearly still loud enough for Sam to hear. “He isn’t gonna know how to treat you like you deserve.”
A cool hand skirted up the tender flesh of Jack’s thigh, fingertips dragging themselves through the cleft of his backside and gathering the evidence of the boy’s arousal. He moaned, deep and long and uncontrollably when Dean pushed a finger inside him, the lubrication making its entrance more than easy. After only a handful of thrusts, Dean added another, and Jack mewled – pathetic, even to his own ears.
“So needy,” Dean whispered, as if it was praise. But then he withdrew both his fingers and struck Jack harshly, sending a stinging burn through the lower half of his body. “Needy little omegas like you only deserve one thing: a cock in your ass and cum in your belly.”
Dean spanked him again and Jack cried out in pain, bracing his head against his forearms. Sam finally came unfrozen and rushed to his side, kneeling on the floor and reaching out to take the boy’s hand.
“It’s okay, Jack,” Sam tried to soothe him, but his voice was clearly choked with emotion. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, close enough that only Jack would hear the private words.
“No,” Jack shook his head vehemently. “No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Alpha.” His next cry melted into a moan as Dean landed several more harsh slaps on his ass and thighs, each one hurting more than the last, and each one sending a fresh wave of pleasure straight between his legs.
“Little needy bitch,” Dean spat at Jack’s hole, needlessly considering how much slick was already dripping out of the omega, and plunged three fingers in this time, making Jack wail in obvious pleasure as the older man began to fuck him mercilessly on his hand. “Just begging to be mounted, isn’ he Sammy? Think I should give your little slut what he wants?”
Jack looked at Sam, tears of embarrassment beginning to leak out of his eyes from just how desperate he was, and without exchanging words, Jack knew that Sam understood his plea. Say yes.
Sam felt his eyes widen in shocked comprehension as he searched Jack’s expression. Yes, there was pain there, but that was becoming harder and harder to discern amidst the obvious pleasure that was written over every line of his delicate skin; usually near translucence, but now blushing brightly with life, vigour, and ecstasy. He’d been forced into this by Dean’s greed, and submitted to it in deference to the law, but Sam saw in his face that even if those reasons evaporated in this instant, Jack was in too deep. He wanted this now; maybe even wanted it because he’d been forced into it.
At that astounding realisation Sam felt a latch in his chest release, setting free a rush of sensations he’d been stopping himself from feeling. His cock filled quickly as the blood that had been pumping through his heart in anger and hatred immediately drained south to fulfil a more pressing ambition. He could slit his brother’s throat another time; pleasing his new mate was far more important, and seeing him perched submissively atop the bed, naked and leaking, was too much for Sam’s alpha instincts to resist.
“Make it fucking fast,” Sam grunted, finally answering Dean’s question. “Because I intend to knot my omega on my wedding night, brother,” he growled the appellation, hoping to emphasise how much Dean was not acting concordantly with that familial title. Jack whined again, and Sam looked down to see if he was hurt, but Dean wasn’t touching him. He realised that his words had caused the boy to whimper like that: he liked how possessive Sam had been. Well, that was something he would happily work with.
“You want my big brother to fuck you, Jack?” Sam asked gently, brushing the damp hair from his omega’s face. “Should I let Dean knot what’s mine? Would that make you feel good, baby?”
Jack nodded, red rimmed eyes brimming with fresh tears of desperate want.
“Yes, Alpha, please,” he breathed, the air catching in his throat. “Need him inside me, Alpha, please… please,” Jack begged, and Sam felt his cock throb in response to how needy his omega was.
“Okay baby,” Sam smirked, “just promise me one thing, okay?” Jack nodded before he even knew what he was agreeing to, making his alpha grin. He leant down to whisper in the boy’s ear, his words only for Jack: “You promise to be just as pathetic when you beg for my knot next, okay ‘mega?”
“Oh God, Alpha, yes!” Jack moaned loudly, his back arching wantonly as Dean lined his cock up with Jack’s hole. Sam watched from the corner of his eye as Dean teased the omega before starting to slowly push himself in, spearing the keening boy on his flesh.
“Good boy,” Sam whispered, tilting Jack’s head up to look him in the eye. “Take it like a good little slut for him baby, and we’ll take care of you too. I promise.”
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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Well, it’s been more than half a year of feeling increasingly racked with guilt every time I fired up a new project, but: mediaeval AU! And I’ve worked in the Song of Solomon, so I think I can officially retire.
This is a Mediaeval AU with knights and kings and werewolves based on the tale of Bisclavret, one of the lais of Marie de France written in the late 12th century. It’s also excessively flowery and not my usual style at all, but it was a helluva lot of fun to write :} And in case you’re wondering, the original is very, very, very gay indeed.
There once was a young king who was as noble as he was valiant, as fair as he was just. Beloved by highborn and low alike, King Erwin was brave in battle, merciful in judgement and generous to those in need. Throughout his reign, his kingdom and lands prospered in peace and plenty, though here and there dark tales of bygone ages still lingered of strange creatures, neither man, nor beast, that prowled the dark forests of the north.
In his service King Erwin commanded five hundred brave knights, the fairest flower of chivalry, yet none were more bold, nor loved the king with a truer heart than the Knight Levi. Steadfast in courage, unfailing in valour, no man equalled Levi in knightly prowess. Hailing from the northern marches of the kingdom, Levi was nephew to Lord Ackerman, a tall grim lord, who had once been liegeman to the exiled prince of a far off land. As short as the king was tall, as dark as he was fair, Levi was King Erwin’s champion and he shared a deep bond of trust with his liege. Levi was the king’s most loyal knight, his closest companion, his most trusted confidante, and yet he hid a dark secret. Every month at the waxing of the moon Levi took his leave from the court and left the king’s side for three days and three nights. Where he went, none could tell, and thought it pained the king to be separated from his closest companion, he trusted Levi like no other and so he let him go without hindrance. Only once did he ask his knight whither he went and for what cause, but Levi only shook his head in sorrow.
“Fain would I tell you all,” he replied, “but I beseech you my lord, do not ask what I can not answer.”
Month after month, year after year, King Erwin watched from the high battlements with heavy heart as Levi rode out from the castle gate, and month after month, year after year, he welcomed him back with joy as he faithfully returned to take his place at the king’s right hand.
