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perlelune · 6 months

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Play with Fire | Feyd-Rautha

Your secret tryst with the na-Baron should have ended the moment you returned to your betrothed on Caladan. And it would have, if your lover was willing to let you go.

Warnings: NON-CON, Knife Play, Blood Play, Breeding Kink, Jealousy, Cheating, Blackmail, Murder, Slight Paul Atreides x Reader, Incest

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

A raspy moan erupts from Feyd-Rautha’s throat as your slick walls squeeze around his hard cock. Your head tosses back, pleasure swirling through your core. Your nails rake across his sculpted, ivory chest and he purrs. You bury them in his flesh, scattering crimson lines across his skin. His hands curl around your hips as he thrusts into you more vigorously. You dig your heels into the rumpled sheets, your mind blanking as his pelvis massages your bundle of nerves.

You chew on your lip, willing yourself to be more quiet. The most arduous task considering the mind-blowing sensations coursing through your heated flesh. Your reputation hinges upon it. If anyone brushed past the na-Baron’s chambers and recognized your voice…you would be ruined.

What a lewd picture the two of you must paint from afar. You, a proper lady from a noble house of Caladan, riding Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen’s cock with wanton abandon, your dress bunched around you, sweat glistening off your panting frame. The Harkonnen heir-designate is in quite a disheveled state himself, grunting below you, his dark gaze hazy with lust.

“You are a goddess, my darling,” he lauds.

The echo of his gruff baritone ripples across your skin. Feral need bleeds from his words, his ravenous gaze riveted to your writhing form above him. It’s evident the na-Baron is basking in this sight, his tongue flicking through his lips every once in a while. The trail of his dusky eyes goes from your bouncing chest to your entrance, greedily sucking every inch of his length.

“Then fuck me like a god would,” you dare him with a smug smile. A risky move, particularly considering how deep inside you he already is, pulling broken moans from you each time his taut hips meet yours. But you want to push his buttons even more, see how far you can take it.

Grazing the flickering candlelight isn’t enough. You want a blazing inferno to engulf you whole.

You cock your eyebrow and sneer, “I expected more from such a great warrior.” You grab the long silver dagger lying beside him. Feyd-Rautha hardly goes anywhere without a deadly weapon nearby. His bed is no different. You push the tip against his throat. “Fuck me as if your life depended on it, na-Baron…because it does.”

Most men would cower at such words. But Feyd-Rautha isn’t most men. A wild glint of excitement blooms in his orbs. His throat bobs, a look of satisfaction so intense crossing his features, you wonder if he’ll spill himself inside you right at that moment.

He welcomes the threat upon his life like the most wondrous gift, making no move to shirk away from the sharp edge kissing his throat. Bliss decorates his features as you nick him in various spots with the blade, lingering so he feels every ounce of the sting when his flesh is sliced. Your blade curves meticulous patterns in his ivory flesh, drawing raspy moans and elated growls from him. You spread your hand across his chest, pressing your palm into the fresh wounds. Dark blood is smeared across his pale chest. The na-Baron moans at your touch, the pain delighting him. He embraces it as much as the pleasure. Perhaps even more.

He accepts the challenge you give him. A squeal shoots through your lips as he flips your bodies, forcing you on your stomach. He pushes the flowing fabric of your dress up until your dripping folds are bare to him. A shiver of anticipation courses through you when his thick tip presses against your weeping entrance. The blade slips through your fingers, a soundless scream parting from your throat when he slams his cock into you from behind.

The metallic taste of your own blood rains on your tongue when you bite your lip, confining every sound fighting to be unleashed. He wraps his hand around your nape, shoving your head into the mattress, allowing you no time to gather your breath. Each of his thrusts is brutal and unforgiving. He ruins your walls without a care. You find yourself almost wishing you didn’t agitate the beast inside him. Almost. If the sinful dance of torment and bliss weren’t so entrancing, perhaps you would regret it.

His muscular frame covers yours. His scorching breath glosses over the back of your neck as he inquires, “Does my cock meet your high standards, my Lady?”

Your chest heaves as you whimper underneath him. You are so delirious with both pain and pleasure that it’s hard to even think coherent words, let alone utter them. Feyd tears you from your haze with a pointed pinch on your swollen bundle of nerves, making you cry out.

“It’s…a-adequate, my Lord,” you stutter between panting breaths.

“Just adequate?” he scoffs. “Well, this will not do.”

Determined to have you choke on every taunt you threw at him, the na-Baron isn’t satisfied until you’re passed out underneath him. He finds his release as your walls spasm around him. Even as you’re on the cusp of collapse, you urge him to pull out, coaxing him to spill himself over your belly. A sliver of annoyance passes over his features before he surrenders to your wishes. Relief fills you when his warm, sticky seed coats your stomach.

You doubt your fiancé would respond well to you returning with a Harkonnen bastard growing in your womb.

As you wipe yourself with a damp cloth on the edge of the bed, you inform, “My mother and I are returning to Caladan tomorrow.” He doesn’t acknowledge you at first, sitting with his leg bent, completely unabashed in his nakedness. You let your gaze roam over his smooth, hairless muscled flesh. It’s a pleasant sight, one you commit to memory. You’ve enjoyed your time with the na-Baron. And not only did you enjoy yourself, you’ve shed the fear you harbored regarding your wedding night. You loathed the idea of being some shivering, terrified maiden before your husband. You long for more. Giving pleasure but also receiving it. Reciprocity.

Feyd’s head turns. His alabaster face betrays no emotion. He observes, “This was a brief trip.” He tilts his head. “Must I expect your next visit to end as swiftly?”

Mirth tugs the corners of your lips skyward. You crawl towards him.

“There will be no more visits.”

His jaw ticks.

“Is that so?”

You cup his cheek and state, “I am to be married soon.”

A hint of possessiveness flashes across his stony features. Subtle, but there nonetheless. You’ve learnt to decipher the minute shifts in his expression in the two weeks you have spent on Giedi Prime.

He snickers.

“To some lesser man, I reckon.”

You bend over his shoulder. A teasing lilt sneaks into your voice.

“Are you seized by jealousy, my lord, consumed with burning rage at the thought of another man touching me in the ways you have…” Your lips graze his earshell. “Perhaps even being inside me?”

His hand shoots out to clasp around your throat.

“Jealousy is for the weak,” he grates, his cheek pulsing. You smirk. Stoking the flames of his ire often yields…interesting results.

“Then does that make you your weakness, na-Baron?” you jest boldly.

The hand around your throat tightens, impeding your airways. A whine escapes through your lips. He hauls you off the bed and shoves you onto the floor.

“Darling…” he warns, his grip around your neck unwavering. “You speak too much when your mouth should be full of me. On your knees.”

You scowl at his imperious inflection but comply regardless. This is your last encounter with Feyd-Rautha. The last time you bend to his whims. While you’re not fond of his tone, you can discard your disgruntlement for a brief time.

You wrap your fingers around his length. Your dauntless gaze rises to meet his as you start planting kisses along the dark, swollen tip of his pale cock.

“Your wish is my command, my Lord na-Baron,” you whisper teasingly.

You never expected to entertain a secret affair with Feyd-Rautha of all men. For the entirety of your girlhood, you heard horror stories about the Harkonnen, how ruthless and cruel they are, how their wasteland of a planet is a cold, inhospitable rock.

So when your mother announced the two of you would be going on a diplomatic trip to Giedi Prime, you weren’t thrilled. In fact, fear surged through you that day. You kept picturing some awful thing happening as soon as you landed. You thought it to be a punishment, and wondered if perhaps you had offended Leto Atreides and his family in some form without realizing it.

However your parents explained the idea stemmed from a clumsy attempt at quelling the long-standing rivalry between House Atreides and House Harkonnen. Keep those tensions from building into an all-out interstellar war.

While Duke Leto Atreides will not risk his son’s life for a last ditch attempt at peace, the lives of members of a House Minor who swore him allegiance many years ago are more…expendable you suppose.

It is how you, daughter of an Earl with close ties to house Atreides, found yourself on Giedi Prime. Your father voiced his hopes that your sweet disposition would rub off on Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen as he bid you goodbye.

Perhaps that plan worked a bit too well.

You barely understood how it happened. How your path and Feyd-Rautha’s collided in such an...unexpected way.

It all started the day you watched him - admired him truly - through your binoculars as he performed in the gladiator arena. That day, a hundred doors opened up inside you, each clamoring to be crossed. Like a castle brimming with rooms you never explored.

The spectacle of death should have repulsed you. Instead, you found his bellicose dance over the sand as the crowd cheered him on fascinating. You were unable to tear your gaze away that day. Inexplicably drawn to something twisted and sick you shouldn’t crave, yet did anyway. You found yourself wondering if those deft, pale fingers are as apt with…other things as they are with blades. It kept you awake at night and obliterated every other thought. How he’d be like. What he tasted like. What it would take to coax out that ferocity you saw in the arena in wildly different circumstances. That strange, irresistible force kept pulling you into his orbit.

So one day, you surrendered to it and snuck into his chambers, offering him your maidenhood. And he took it without hesitation.

In a life in which every decision is made for you, either by your mother, or your father or the Bene Gesserit…It is freeing to finally make a choice for yourself, one that only serves you and not the ends of a mysterious sisterhood whose obscure prophecies mean nothing to you.

However, while you have plucked a modicum of gratification from this affair, it must end. For not only are you spoken for but, during your time on Giedi Prime, you have borne witness to the depth of the na-Baron’s heartlessness.

While you admire his prowess in the arena, you resent his disregard for human life. You’ve trembled as you watched him slaughter servants to test the sharpness of his weapons, slice a cook’s throat for bringing him a meal he found under-seasoned or not warm enough, gut innocent bystanders simply because he had the impulse to do it.

Feyd-Rautha is a mercurial beast. A prime example of the Harkonnens’ capacity for unprovoked, gratuitous violence.

Therefore a flurry of comfort flows you through at the prospect that you’ll be going home soon, back to Caladan’s familiar, flourishing landscapes. Whatever thrill the affair elicited before is beginning to wear off. You long to be home and return to your fiancé.

However that sense of peace crumbles when you return to your chambers that night and find your mother waiting for you on the bed. You smooth out the wrinkles in your dress. It’s useless. The evidence must be all over you because she stomps in your direction, a wild look of rage distorting her usually demure features.

“Have you lost your sanity?” she roars.

You shake your head, feigning ignorance.

“Mother, I have no idea-”

It’s not until the sharp ringing of your mother’s palm flying across your face fills your ears that you realize that she just hit you, the searing sting of pain spreading belatedly. Almost like time stood still in the crux of that instant, leashed by your shock and disbelief. Your mother has never laid hands on you before. Not even once.

Your wide eyes find hers.

She shakes a berating finger at you.

“Do not lie to me, child. How many kinds of an idiot do you believe me to be?” Your mouth shudders as you clutch your throbbing cheek. The strength with which your mother struck you still pulses right below your fingertips. “You even reek of his foul stench. My own flesh and blood…smelling like a filthy Harkonnen whore.”

Your face burns, from both pain and shame.

“You foolish girl.” Her gaze narrows as she leans back, gulping a wide lungful before speaking again. “After your father and I moved the heavens to secure a worthy match for you?” She shakes her head. “You are lucky we are leaving tomorrow and that your father will not hear a word of this.” She pauses, sadness and disgust tinging her tone. “You were such a sweet, kind little girl, so curious and clever, always clinging to my skirts…” Your mother sighs. “So dutiful. What mistake did I make in raising you for you to become such an utter disappointment?”

Your heart shrinks under her accusing glare. A sheet of guilt pervades you as you fall silent, finding no word to stand up to your mother. She is right. Reality crashes over you. You were in a haze, a lust-driven fog. Now you’re wide awake, as if a bucket of freezing water was poured over you. You have besmirched yourself and your house, tossing away your virtue for…what? Ephemeral moments of delight. The more you mull over your actions, the more you realize how impulse-driven and dangerous they were…that all of it was a mistake.

Your mother’s words drop a hot stone of shame in the pit of your stomach, one that remains lodged inside you even as you land on Caladan. Not a single word is exchanged between the two of you in the brief time you sit together in the starship transporting you back home. Instead, a heavy silence rife with animosity fills the air.

You’re grateful Feyd-Rautha is notably absent the day of your departure. You don’t have the fortitude to peer at him, face your mistakes. And it’s what he is. The walking, breathing embodiment of your mistakes.

So in the ephemeral span of time required for time and space to fold and bring you back home, you sink back into your role of virtuous and demure lady of your house.

As you and your parents disembark, you let your eyes soak in Caladan’s beautiful landscapes. Lush, green plains fill your sight, their familiarity sending a wave of calm through you. Finally, you’re home. Light-years away from bloodthirsty warriors and caliginous planets with blotted skies rife with smoke and pollution. You are ready to bury the entire ordeal behind you and return to normalcy.

Expectedly, the Atreides clan is there to welcome you and your parents back home.

A small smile appears on Paul’s face when your gaze lands on him. Your stomach knots as you return it. He can never learn what occurred on Giedi Prime. That secret will follow you to your grave. You approach him, pointedly ignoring your mother’s sizzling stare.

Her apprehension permeates through you even from where you are. There can be no other mistakes.

Your match with Paul Atreides must be a success. For both your house’s sake and the safe continuation of the Bene Gesserit’s breeding program. The pinnacle of centuries of scheming and puppeteering from the shadows. Your mother impressed it upon you many times over the years. How the purity of the bloodlines must be preserved. How all of it serves to bring humanity closer to its age of enlightenment. And while you are not so conceited to believe you will bring forth the long-awaited Kwisatz Aderach…you understand your role in producing an offspring that perhaps may nudge the sisterhood closer to that goal.

You suppress the tremor in your hand as your cousin plucks your hand to kiss the back of it.

“May we walk together for some time?” he inquires.

Relief swells inside you. Chatting away from prying ears is a welcome prospect, the combined scrutinies of both your families flaring your nerves. You can even feel Lady Jessica’s attention on you now. What if your mother’s half-sister saw right through you? Your aunt’s sharp Bene Gesserit’s senses have always stirred a vague unease within you. Today even more so, as you choke on so many secrets you can barely breathe.

“With pleasure,” you respond, accepting his hand as he guides you away from the welcoming committee.

The two of you engage in a tranquil stroll across the grassy field.

“I trust your journey went well, cousin,” Paul says.

Flashes of torrid nights spent in a bed you shouldn’t be in force their way inside your mind. You quell the pesky memories, your brows knitting.

You coax a demure smile onto your features.

“It was a…learning opportunity. One I wholly embraced.”

Naturally, you spare your soon-to-be husband the details of what it is you learned and with who.

Your fiancé nods.

“It sounds delightful.” His green eyes soften as he mumbles, “You were missed.”

“By you, my Lord?” you beam, happiness fluttering through you.

Over the last few months, since the official announcement of your betrothal, your fondness for Paul grew the more time you two shared. The crush you harbored for him as a child blossomed into more, his kindness and nobility of heart winning you over. But you never expected him to reciprocate those feelings.

A hint of pink dusts Paul’s cheeks. Straightening his spine, he clears his throat.

“Many…including myself,” he answers evasively.

Your smile widens. “I would hope my betrothed noticed my absence.”

Warmth rushes through you as replies, his tone dropping, “It was definitely noticed, my Lady.”

He suddenly falls quiet. Thoughts seem to lurk in his mind, causing a deep frown to carve his brow.

Concern tickles your insides.

“Is something troubling you, my Lord?”

He hesitates, his thin lips squeezing before he reveals, “Mother believes I should take you as concubine, not as a wife, in case another marriage prospect presents itself to me.”

You ponder his words. It does not surprise you coming from your cunning aunt, that she would encourage her son to keep his options open the way his father did. A sliver of bitter disappointment percolates through your chest. Being Paul Atreides’ concubine would have its range of perks. You could stand beside him, share his bed and perhaps even a genuine love one day. One as deep and true as the one his parents have nurtured for years.

But it would also mean that while you’d undeniably be his, Paul would never truly be yours…that he could become someone else’s overnight to secure some treaty or alliance with another house.

Still, you conceal the panic rushing through you with a meek nod.

“It would be a clever move,” you say. You hold his eyes. “What did the Duke say?”

“That he regrets not making my mother his Duchess everyday.”

He seizes your hands, his fingers curling tightly around yours. Determination steels his olive gaze. “I do not wish to repeat my father’s mistakes,” he states.

The worry building inside you is stifled by his soft reassurance.

“That is a relief to hear, my Lord.”

As Paul’s fond gaze rests on you however, guilt creeps inside you once more, your mind wandering to the debauchery you surrendered to on Geidi Prime. Self-loathing fills you.

You tear your hands from his, your focus tumbling to the ground.

“Are you unwell, my Lady?” he asks, his tone dripping with concern.

You shake your head, giving a false smile.

“It’s nothing. I was simply lost in my thoughts,” you lie.

Interest blooms in his green orbs. “Would you care to share them with me?”

The blood in your veins freezes. You pale to think how Paul, your beloved, his beautiful eyes overflowing with love and trust, would look at you if he knew. The mere thought makes you queasy. He can never know.

“I was simply overwhelmed with excitement at the thought of our union, my Lord.”

He accepts your explanation without a shadow of doubt in his eyes. He takes your hands in his again, fervently promising, “I am aware that greater forces may have rushed our union, but I want you to know. I will love and cherish you with my whole heart.”

For several days, you get to bask in your renewed peace, finding solace in returning to your habits and focusing on the wedding preparations. While your mother’s coldness remains, you don’t let her behavior cast a pale on your happiness. Besides, she will be compelled to acknowledge your efforts over time, how much you strive to do nothing but bring pride to your house. You may have faltered on Giedi Prime, yielded to your baser instincts. But it is all in the past.

The dusky planet will fade. Feyd-Rautha will fade. And soon, memories of your life with Paul will replace those fleeting moments of weakness.

So, for a while, all is well, your mind at rest and your spirits lifted. All is well... until nothing is.

Until a handmaiden brutally tears you from your slumber one morning.

“My lady, you must awake now,” she whispers, urgency laced in her tone.

“Arisha…The Devil himself must sleep at this hour,” you groan, burying your head in your soft, comfortable pillow.

A Harkonnen ship just pierced through the Caladan exosphere. Its landing is imminent.”

Dread shoots through you.

The news has you leaping out of bed, abruptly hurling you into a state of complete wakefulness.

You whirl towards her.

“A Harkonnen ship?” you screech, your voice wavering.

“Yes, my Lady,” Arisha confirms.

Your mind throbs as alarm pulses through you. A Harkonnen ship…here on Caladan? This isn’t just strange. It is unprecedented.

“Help me get dressed, at once,” you command, already shedding your nightgown.

You rush to get ready, joining your family as they hop on an aircraft to reach the landing site. Your chest is tight the entire time.

When you arrive, a striking scene welcomes you. On one side of the large landing strip, the Atreides army stands proudly, flanking the Duke and his family, while on the other there is a Harkonnen battalion, accompanied by a large swarm of Sardaukar soldiers.

A thick layer of tension coats the air, so palpable you feel its weight on your skin as you join the Atreides’ side. Both sides are poised for battle, ready to draw their weapons and unleash hell if need be. The fresh morning Caladan breeze is heavy with the threat of imminent bloodshed. Your gaze drifts to the mighty Duncan Idaho. The swordmaster’s face is uncharacteristically stern, the usual cockiness he dons gone from his features.

You swallow past the dryness in your throat.

You pivot to Thufir Hawat, the Atreides’ mentat. A hushed question rushes through your lips. “Thufir, how much will it cost them, traveling this far from Giedi Prime to Caladan?”

The mentat’s orbs gloss over with a white veil as his genetically altered mind runs calculations faster than any regular human could. Within a few seconds, he supplies a precise answer. “Two guild navigators, a total of one million two hundred ninety thousand fifty three and a quarter solaris round trip, my Lady.”

You release a quivering breath. The cost of the trip alone has a pang of foreboding twist your insides. Who squanders such a vast amount of solaris over a courtesy visit in enemy territory?

Only a fool or a madman would do such a thing.

Your eyes travel across the field. A familiar dark gaze corrals yours. Your heart skips a beat. For brief seconds, familiar pale lips rise in a taunting smile.

A shudder rocks through your frame. You lower your eyes, keeping them on the grass.

Him? Here? On your beloved Caladan? Adrenaline pumps through your blood, your pulse spiking. A frown forms on your brow. Sense is amiss here. You thought him a beast, driven by nothing but violence and lust. But as you take in the scene unfolding before you, the two enemy armies trapped in a standstill, you understand more clearly.

This is not some impulsive, foolish attempt. This is a calculated move. No side can hurt each other this openly without annihilating each other and causing a global, intergalactic incident. The other houses of the Landsraad would be forced to declare allegiance for one side or the other. The Imperium would be compelled to respond. Chaos would erupt.

And it’s blatant the na-Baron knows it, a smugness etched on his face despite standing in enemy fields.

You are so consumed by your raging train of thoughts that you nearly miss the tail end of the conversation between the Duke, your father and him.

Shock bolts through you when you catch the suggestion that he should stay in your family’s estate.

Indignation pulses through your words.

“In our home, father?”

Your father shoots you a withering glance. Your head dips as you bite your tongue. No protest should have risen from it. As an Earl’s daughter, your opinion in such matters is irrelevant. So despite the frustration and horror swelling inside you, you bind every objection to the cage of your sealed lips.

His gristly, arrogant baritone booms across the field.

“In light of the…belligerent history House Harkonnen and House Atreides share, I believe it may be ill-advised for me to stay at Castle Caladan.” Despite your bowed head, you can paint a vivid picture of the haughty smile stretched on his lips as he says, “And since our two houses have grown undeniably close, thanks to your daughter’s most skilled, clever tongue...” Your heart races as you quietly pray no one present deciphers the lewd implication behind his words. “It is where I shall take residence for the duration of my stay.”

Later that same day, Feyd-Rautha wastes no time in finding you, making the purpose of his visit clear when he sneaks into your chambers. His reflection in your vanity mirror as you remove your headdress startles you.

You jump to your feet.

“Guards?” you call sharply.

He cocks his head, a smirk ghosting over his plump lips.

“Guards?” he repeats, openly mocking you. “I have Harkonnen soldiers at your door, my darling.”

A shudder ripples through your spine. You lift your chin, your tone firm and commanding as you say, “You can’t be here, na-Baron Feyd-Rautha. It is inappropriate.”

He snorts.

“Inappropriate?” A predatory look crosses his features as his dark gaze roams over you, seeming to peel the layers of your dress. “I do not recall that being an issue when I had you spread over my cock back on Giedi Prime.”

Heat rushes to your face at his lewd reminder.

“Y-You must leave,” you insist, fighting to quell the tremor in your voice.

“Or what?” he challenges, taking slow, lithe steps in your direction. Your pulse soars. “Will you scream?” A crooked slant appears on his mouth, the prospect clearly filling him with great delight. He hums low in his throat. “Then how will you explain my presence in your chambers?”

You recoil, every hair on your body bristling as he inches closer. The realization that you are alone with him, with no help coming, that power you held before now robbed from you, has dread steadily mounting inside you. On Giedi Prime, he was a leashed monster, one you felt you could sway as you like. Here in your room, he is a ravenous creature, hungry for blood and retribution. One you no longer have control over.

You dash towards the exit. He smoothly impedes your attempt at escaping, his fingers fastening around your wrist while he grabs your body from behind. He yanks you backwards, pulling you against his chest.

“Not so fast,” he sneers. His tongue slips out to drag across your temple. You wince, jerking in his embrace to free yourself. You bend over him and sink your teeth in the flesh of his arm. He purrs in pleasure, his hold on you tightening. His gravelly whisper summons goosebumps on your skin. “Oh darling, such a slippery one you are, always trying to run from me whenever things start to become most…interesting.”

He hauls you to your bed. Your heels dig into the ground to resist. His patience fizzles out and he throws you onto the carpeted floor instead. The clamor of your drumming heart rises to a crescendo in your ears. He looms over you, his body caging yours. Terrorized, you gape at him, an helplessness you never felt before pulsing through your veins. Your chest heaves rapidly, alarm widening your gaze as he reaches down to pull down his black pants. His erect, alabaster cock slips free, the swollen tip already shimmering with the evidence of his need. A scream dies in your throat when his fingers wrap around your neck, bruises already forming in his painful grip.

You thrash beneath him, clawing and biting every part of him you can reach. Your feistiness only serves to galvanize him further. A demented look of amusement decorates his handsome face as you struggle underneath his frame. His throbbing length pokes your stomach. You kick your legs, desperation radiating through your chest. He places himself between your thighs, pushing your dress out of the way until it’s bunched around your waist. A raspy sigh leaves him as he nudges his thick, leaking tip against your dry entrance.

Terror sings through your veins.

He revels in every bit of fight you give him, plucking satisfaction in watching you exert yourself to delay the inevitable. A hungry wolf toying with a lamb before sinking his teeth. Even as you grab the dagger hidden under your skirts and try to stab him, he’s undeterred, the flicker of surprise shifting to a smile when you nick his shoulder blade. He wrenches it from your hand with little effort, once more demonstrating that whatever frail control you thought you ever had…was just an illusion. You squeal in pain as he twists your wrists above your head, his steely grip nearly snapping your bones.

“No…don’t you dare,” you hiss, the confidence in your voice faltering as you feel him push inside you.

His warm breath brushes over your face. “I traveled across the stars to find you again. I will take what is rightfully mine.”

Your back folds as he spears you with his cock. The room blurs around you, the sudden searing pain as he begins to move inside you almost knocking you unconscious. He never took you like that. Like an animal in heat, desperate to reach his high. You choke on your breath with every one of his quick, feral thrusts.

His lips sweep over yours, ravenous and possessive. You bite him and he growls, somehow growing harder inside you. His sick enjoyment of this makes you shudder. He fondles your soft flesh, groaning into the bloody kiss. Black teeth trail possessive bites along the quivering column of your neck. His hands feel everywhere on your reluctant flesh, the weight of him suffocating as his greedy mouth tastes yours.

“You thought you could toy with me and toss me aside when it pleased you,” he rumbles, squeezing your jaw. His fingers dig painfully into your cheeks. “I am Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. I am not some spoiled little princess’ toy.”

The last remnants of bravado inside you are swiftly pushed by the hasty, merciless snap of his hips into yours. You try to ignore the horrid heat gathering in your lower belly, the spasms rocking through your core every time he hits those tender spots he’s come to know too well.

“I’m delighted to see your body hasn’t forgotten me, darling,” he taunts, yanking a drawn-out whimper from you as his cock punches through your walls.

Your chest grazes his, his form draping over yours as you sag against the floor of your bedroom, completely defeated.

“Please…” The desperate, feeble cry falls from your tongue in a last ditch effort to get him to stop. It only makes him smile down at you, a glint of victory illuminating his dark orbs. Tears well up in your eyes as you grow overwhelmed with fear, confused and terrified by the way your body yields to him. Your walls constrict around him, hugging his cock as if welcoming the assault. A wave of sickness spreads through you.

His tongue traces a slow path across your cheek, collecting the salty trails streaming down your face. He moans, his eyes fluttering shut. “Your tears taste sweeter than I could have imagined. Almost as sweet as that tight cunt of yours.” He licks his lips. “Perhaps I shall aim to make you cry for me more often.”

When his warm spent glazes your ruined walls, his sweat-covered muscular frame covers yours. He remains buried inside you, crudely pushing back the sticky excess with his fingers. You shiver beneath him, weeping quietly, forever destroyed, forever changed.

Head nestled in the crook of your neck, he whispers, “We shall see how well my seed blossoms in your garden, my darling.”

“I do not understand,” Paul says, turning a dismayed frown upon you. “You are to be his willing bride?”

Swallowing a deep breath, you recollect the events that have led you here. Led you to stand here before the members of House Atreides, before your fiancé, to announce that you will not marry Paul. Led to you disgracing yourself and your house.

The wayward memories slip through your grieving mind.

Focusing on their conversation is hard, the discomfort in your body making it hard to walk properly. Feyd-Rautha relishes your torment, occasionally tossing taunting glances at you above his shoulder, a secretive smirk hovering on his lips. Your fingers clench in your lap. He insisted your father give him a tour of the castle this morning, and as his supposed ‘friend’, you are naturally expected to be present. Nevermind the sickness and resentment taking hold of you whenever you look at him.

As the tour nears its end, your father asks, “Do you have everything you need, na-Baron, or do you require any further accommodations?”

Feyd-Rautha hums, as if he were truly mulling over this offer.

“Any further accommodations?” He smirks, pausing before resting his eyes on you. “I suppose your daughter’s hand in marriage will do.”

Your head snaps up, a stunned exhale bursting from your mouth.

Your father turns a puzzled frown towards the ivory-skinned young man.

“My daughter’s hand? Is this a joke?”

There isn’t a hint of mischief on the na-Baron’s face, his expression deadly serious, making your father realize…his request must be as serious. He halts in his tracks, the smile vanishing from his face.

Feyd-Rautha approaches your father, ordering rather than asking, “Cancel the match with Atreides, old man, and give your daughter to me instead.” He snickers. “Her virtue is already mine anyway.”

This sends your father into a blind rage. He draws out his sword and lunges himself at the na-Baron.

“You rascal. I will teach you-”

Your father was a great warrior once, a fearsome force on the battlefield. Duncan Idaho himself would attest to that, having fought at his side several times.

…But that was decades ago. Nowadays with his body slowed down by age, he is no match for the quick, ruthless Feyd-Rautha. He barely gets the opportunity to swing his sword at the young man once before Feyd-Rautha guides his blade below his chin and through his skull. Blood gurgles from your father’s mouth, raining over his neck and clothes before he falls into a heap on the floor.

Your stomach drops. You watch in horror at his split skull, matter spilling from it across the tiles, his rolled back eyes, his still open mouth.

You sink to the floor, crawling to his corpse. Fresh blood stains your palms as you cradle his head.

“Father!” Tears blur your sight. You lift your eyes, yelling out orders with a broken voice. “Guards! Detain him!”

Shock ripples through you as the guards ignore you, staring ahead blankly as if the gruesome scene before them didn’t exist.

Feyd-Rautha kneels at your side. He frames your chin, bending over your shoulder to whisper,

“Oh darling, do you not understand?” You hear the wicked smile in his raspy baritone. “Your house isn’t your house anymore. It is mine.” Ice bursts through your veins. His gravelly voice lowers, as if he were sharing a secret with you. “Do you wish for your sisters and mother to meet the same fate?”

Your chin wobbles in his grasp. “N-No.”

He strokes the side of your face.

“Then do everything I say.”

“Y-Yes, my Lord,” you reply with a tremulous nod.

Ire trembles through Paul’s voice, his fingers clenching into fists at his side. Disbelief and hurt contort his boyish features.

“I do not believe it. I do not believe you,” he says, pinning you with an unflinching stare. You lower your gaze. You can hardly believe it yourself. How your entire life fell apart, your future in ruins…your father’s blood now on your hands. You blink back budding tears and take a deep breath to thwart any hint of trembling in your voice. You’re grateful for the funeral veil concealing your expression. “I apologize for breaking the promise my father made.”

Paul’s jaw clenches.

“You’re lying.”

“Son…” Leto Atreides begins, a slight warning in his tone.

“There is something she isn’t telling me, father,” Paul insists, his green gaze narrowing. “Speak the truth.”

You shiver before feebly uttering, “My Lord…”

“Silence!” You flinch at the sudden wave of power engulfing you, forcing you into quietness as if someone snatched your tongue from your mouth. You release a shaky breath, staring up at Paul in shock. The Voice. Paul used the Voice on you. A Bene Gesserit skill meant to make the target bow to the user’s will. Your wide-eyed gaze rests on Paul. You never expected him to use this on you. As if you were some enemy he needed to interrogate.

His anger cracks in the air like a whip.

“I said…Speak the truth,” he snaps, using the Voice again.

A great pain settles in your body, pins and needles coursing through it. Sweat breaks out on your skin. Words tear from your throat on their own, aching as they spring from your tongue.

“I offered myself to him on Giedi Prime,” you blurt out.

Your hands fly to your mouth as soon as the words pour out of you. Your eyes fill with tears. Paul looks at you in a way he never has before. Like you’re a stranger. Your heart sinks.

“I see. So it is true.”

Meanwhile, at your side, Feyd-Rautha basks in every second of the spectacle, twisted mirth swaying in his dark orbs. He hasn’t said more than a few words during the whole exchange but it’s clear he’s plucking joy from this, reveling in your misery.

Paul nods, stepping away from you.

“You are dismissed, my Lady. You may go to your future husband.”

Paul’s icy timbre shatters what is left of your heart. He turns his back to you and you feel more alone than you ever have in your entire life. Your lips clamp shut, a cold wave setting all the way to your bones.

Even Paul’s parents, the Duke and your aunt the Lady Jessica appear disappointed in you, their eyes bereft of its usual warmth as they watch you leave with the enemy.

You have nothing, no one. Just the monster beside you. Your soon-to-be husband, who won your hand through bloodshed and deception.

Feyd-Rautha’s hand curls around your waist, guiding you towards his starship. With every step you take, further away from the Atreides castle, you feel more hollow.

“Come with me, my love. Let us go home to Giedi Prime,” the monster whispers.

You don’t put up a fight as you’re nudged inside the vessel, silently accepting your defeat. Feyd-Rautha plants a deep, slow kiss on your lips and you passively let it happen.

You admire the beautiful green fields of Caladan one last time before the doors close. An errant tear skips over your cheek. You likely will never see your planet again. And even if by some miracle you could return, you would be the enemy to all of them…even to your own family, who holds you responsible for Father’s untimely demise.

You peer down at your hands. If you let your mind wander, you start to relive that awful moment. That moment your father’s wet, warm blood coated your hands, dripping between your fingers. You will never wash off the stain, shed the guilt.

You wanted to feel the flames, experience the full-blown heat of something thrilling and new. Something you never had in your tedious, predictable existence before.

You in fact got to feel this heat. You walked through the fire and the flames consumed everything you held dear.

And now you stand amidst the ashes, everything you ever knew ripped from you forever.

#feyd rautha #feyd rautha x reader #dune fanfiction #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd-rautha #dune #dune part 2 #feyd-rautha harkonnen #dark!fic

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amyzeng11 · 2 years

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How Metal Sheets Converted into Flat Shapes Using Metal Stamping?

Since its introduction to the market, Metal Stamping Production has transformed the whole parts manufacturing business. Due to the numerous advantages of metal stamping, practically all firms now prefer to utilize it for shaping and molding components. It reduces processing time, allowing for faster output with less machine utilization and labor time.

Ultimately, Metal Stamping Production increases the company's profit and revenue by reducing expenses. When a corporation needs thousands of tiny, accurate machine components in quantity, metal stamping should be used to lower overall manufacturing costs. This article will explain how metal sheets are converted into flat shapes via metal stamping. So, go with the approach and have a complete understanding of the procedure for converting the items.

The procedure of converting the metal sheets into shapes while using stamping

The worldwide Metal Stamping Production Market size and share were valued at around USD 203.80 billion in 2021 and are predicted to reach roughly USD 262.36 billion by 2028, at a compound annual growth rate (CAGR) of approximately 4.30% from 2022 to 2028.

Sheet metal stamping has only three components:

Die

Sheet metal

And the press machine,

Although each portion may need numerous stages to complete. The following tutorial outlines some of the most frequent processes that might occur during metal stamping. So, let’s take a look at the processes that will assist you with the procedure of Precision Stamping.

Forming is the process of using force to change flat metal into another shape. It is performed in one of many methods, depending on the part's design parameters. The metal may be transformed from a relatively basic shape to a complicated one through a succession of processes.

Blanking is the most fundamental operation, which begins when the sheet or blank is placed in the press, where the die cuts out the required form. During this process, the rough contour or shape of the product is cut. This process focuses on eliminating and avoiding burrs, which can raise the cost of your item and extend the lead time.

Drawing is a more complex technique for creating containers or deep holes. A technique for pulling metal through a mold or die Extrusion is a similar process in which a metal is driven through a die with the help of a drawing punch. Drawing is frequently used to make sinks, kitchen appliances, and automotive oil pans.

Penetrating is the process of making holes in raw metal by piercing it with a tool. This is also a crucial aspect of Metal Stamping Production when stamping is used. Punching is the process of creating metal items in particular forms using a machine and a die. Finally, blanking is a machining operation used to make tiny metal components.

To summarize all this, the simple short process.

Metal Stamping Production is a cold-forming technique that uses dies and stamping machines to shape metal sheets into various forms. Blanks are pieces of flat metal sheet fed into a sheet metal stamping press, which employs a tool and die surface to mold the metal into a new shape.

Production facilities and metal fabricators provide stamping services, which will position the material to be stamped within die parts, where forces will shape and split the material into the appropriate exact form for the component.

KWAY Engineers are one of the pioneering Sheet Metal Stamping Company that offer top-quality metal stamping products with excellent finishing. The reason behind quality is the effectiveness of operations and working skilled staff that puts every single effort to make our products the first choice for many industries. We offer the products by using Stamping Machines at reasonable prices so that every company can afford them. Apart from this, we have experience manufacturing the complex parts our machine now works for.

#Precision Stamping #Precision Metal Stamping #Metal Stamping Company #Deep Draw Metal Stamping #Progressive Metal Stamping #Production Metal Stamping #Sheet Metal Stamping Company #High Precision Stamping #Metal Stamping and Fabrication #Metal Stamping Production

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internet-succubus · 3 months

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breakfast at toji’s!

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content/tags, mdni!: frat boy!toji, unprotected/creampie, both parties are intoxicated, friends to lovers, confession, use of babe, baby, doll, darling, standing sex, fluffy aftercare <33

a/n: aaaaa my first post! i’m excited and i hope i can post semi-regularly lol bc i have lots of ideas. any feedback is appreciated! thank u to @screampied @tonycries @gumified @fairy-angel222 and more for writing stuff sooo good that i had to try it myself

word count: 3.1k

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in this moment, it seemed like toji fushiguro would be the death of you, and if that was the case, you know you’d go out doing something you loved. and in this moment, that something would be grinding yourself onto his body like there’s no tomorrow. his strong hands secured their place on your rocking hips, his thumbs pressing into the crest of your pelvis. you knew that you’d see bruises there when you inevitably woke up in his messy sheets, but that didn’t matter right now. all that mattered was the feeling of his cock thump thump thumping away at your cervix. the sensation made your jaw drop and head tip back in raw ecstasy.

”come on baby, don’t quit on me now,” he growled into your neck. you could barely make out his words over the deafening bass of the music in the next room. your best-friend-turned-fuck buddy had pulled you away from yet another one of his fraternity’s weekend parties after seeing the way your drunken body moved under the blinding, colorful lights. the sound of his voice made you lock your legs around his waist even tighter, and the feeling of your trembling thighs wrapped around him made toji snap his hips impossibly faster. your whorishly short dress was bunched at your waist and the straps were slipping down your shoulders, but all of that paled in comparison to the way he was fucking you. it was almost animalistic, the way he had your back pressed against the wall. you could feel his building desperation as he huffed and groaned softly, trying but failing to keep himself quiet.

your nails dug into his shirt, the thin fabric pathetically stretched over his broad shoulders. over the past few years, he had gone from being a quiet, reserved boy to a hulking mass of a man. the sudden change in his physicality awakened something within you. toji winced as you curled your fingers, your nails nearly drawing blood. the smell of sweat, booze, and marijuana filled your nose. the filthy sound of his balls slapping against your ass made your breath catch in your throat. “look at me, yeah? k-keep those pretty eyes on me doll, i’ve got you.”

his voice pulled you back to reality and your eyes dragged up his clenched jaw to his face, an expression of pure desire molding his handsome features. your eyes met his, their dark green hue almost lost in the low lights around you. toji smiled when you finally managed to look at him. his lips parted in a smug grin, his sharp canine teeth catching the light. the scar across his lips flexed deliciously and for a second, you thought you saw the light. but it was just him, fucking you like his life depended on it. “you look so beautiful b-baby, all desperate for me,” he breathed. your expression shifted to match his, preparing to fire back at his little jab.

“s-seems like- nnghhh- you’re the desperate one h-here babe,” you bit back, your smile widening. matching his snarky comments was something you always enjoyed about your close friendship, and it was all you could do to keep yourself from melting in his strong arms. the feeling of his cock stretching you open was clouding your senses and you knew it wouldn’t be long until you came.

“sh-sh-shut up,” toji muttered through clenched teeth. his hands tightened around you and you could tell he was nearing his orgasm too. his cock twitched inside you and the friction against your g-spot was overwhelming. you wrapped your hands around the back of his neck, the metal of his silver chain pressing into your palms. your head fell forward and your forehead rested on his. being this close, you could detect the faint smell of his cologne and it sent you into a frenzy. before you knew it, you were screwing your eyes shut and babbling about god knows what. “what’s wrong doll, c-can’t talk? does it - shit - f-feel too g-good?” if he wasn’t so fucking sexy, you would have slapped him. knowing him, he would have liked it, the dirty bastard.

every time your hips met his, the small patch of pubic hair above his cock pressed against your clit just right. as if he read your mind, toji moved one of his hands to your front, pressing his thumb against your sensitive bundle of nerves. if you weren’t so cock drunk, you might have been able to tell that he was frantically spelling words on your clit. T-O-J-I-T-O-J-…

he moved his other hand up to your chest, cupping one of your tits in his strong hands and pinching your nipple between two of his fingers. the sudden stimulation made you squeal, and as soon as he heard the noise, his lips crashed into yours. the kiss was sloppy, wet, and downright disgusting in how your tongues moved together in unison. the sour taste of his cheap vodka and fruit punch chaser made you furrow your brows together as you moaned and whimpered into his mouth. toji swallowed every sound happily, humming against your lips. you could feel him smile again. he knew that he was the best you ever had, and that no one could ever come close. he’d never tell you, but fucking you the way he did was his twisted way of claming you as his own. his girl. after just a few hookups, he had learned almost every possible way to make you unravel.

toji’s deft fingers were unrelenting, his thumb still working on your clit as his other hand switched breasts, scooping it up and squeezing it firmly. at this point, his hips slowed. he focused more on angling himself so that he hit that sweet spot deep inside of you- the one that made you see stars. you appreciated the reprieve. despite how close you both were to your orgasms, and how dangerous it was to be fucking so close to a packed dance floor, you wanted this to last forever. normally, you’d both be exhausted, but the adrenaline and alcohol gave you just enough stamina to keep at it.

the slow flow of his hips into yours was almost romantic. you took the opportunity to press your chest into his, wanting to close any distance between your bodies. the hand on your breast slid across your sweat-slicked skin and rested over your thundering heartbeat. toji took a second to pull away from your lips, a string of spit still bridging the gap. his eyes focused on that spot on your chest as if he could see your skin jump in time with your quickened pulse. he then looked back at your face, seemingly searching for the answer to an unasked question. breathlessly, you asked, “yeah?” raising an eyebrow to motivate him to speak. his movements slowed to a stop and your hips rested on his. cockwarming wasn’t something either of you had discussed previously, but the way he filled you to the core prompted you to make a mental note to bring it up later.

the man looked down nervously, moving his hands to support you by the waist. small strands of his hair stuck to his damp forehead. without thinking, you raised one of your hands to push it back, slicking his hair back in a way that you hadn’t seen before, but grew fond of in that moment. toji’s eyes flicked back to meet yours, and he opened his mouth to speak. he paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully. the shots he ripped at the pregame weren’t helping with his judgment, but they sure did make him feel more confident.

looking into your eyes like a deer in headlights, he whispered, “do you like me?” the question caught you off guard and you stopped, considering it carefully. his sweet smile and soft expression made you feel like the only girl in the world.

”of course i like you, toji, what kind of question is that?” his face changed slightly, a pang of frustration causing him to press his lips together in a thin line.

”no, like, do you like me,” he repeated, placing emphasis on that second “like”. it seemed like your encounter had taken a sudden, more emotional turn than you expected. your feelings towards him as of late had become a complicated mess that you couldn’t handle confronting, especially since midterms were coming up and your grades were in desperate need of a boost. whenever you thought of him throughout your days, your heart did a small flip in your chest.

since you had graduated high school, he took the opportunity to use college as a way to “start again”. while he was skipping classes, he started going to the gym and making more time for friends. his intimidating appearance was jarring for most, but once he started talking, the tension dissipated and he suddenly found himself a new friend group. after a few weeks of pestering, they convinced him to rush one of the biggest frats on campus, claiming that the brotherhood was a life changing experience. and that, of course, he would be drowning in pussy. truth be told, he really only joined to get them off his back. toji had no interest in meeting girls when you had been at his side for several years already.

despite his busy schedule and the endless stream of girls throwing themselves at his feet, he always made time for you. he regularly met you at your dorm to walk you to class and caught you for lunch when you both had some time to spare. your platonic relationship suddenly shifted when you were both drunk at the first party of the semester. he was showing you around his frat house’s upper floors, laughing at how messy it was. there were dirty bongs and half empty bottles of beer on every flat surface, but having him guide you by the hand made it all seem okay. it wasn’t until you tripped over your own feet and landed in his arms that you had been so close to his face. in the spur of the moment, you pressed your lips against his and he whisked you into an empty bedroom where you had sex for the first time. since then, he had been your go-to guy for dick.

your brief period of reflection was interrupted when toji called you back to reality. “hey, you okay?” he asked. you were still pressed against him, his cock starting to grow soft inside you as you considered his question from earlier. finding the right words was hard, and this didn’t seem like the time for a heart to heart, so you settled for something simple.

you leaned back in to place a quick kiss on his lips before pulling back and stroking his cheek with your hand. “yes, toji, i like you. now that we’ve got that out of the way, d’you wanna cum inside me or not?”

your answer seemed to satisfy him, and with a quick peck to the corner of your mouth, he smiled and replied. “it would be my pleasure, darlin’.”

”great, because my feet are starting to get numb and i want to be able to walk after this,” you laughed. your laugh slowly turned into a sharp inhale as he pulled his hips back and snapped them forward, hard and fast. toji worked his way back up to a quick pace, perfectly hitting that spot again as his hand snaked down your body back to your clit.

”sounds like a challenge, then,” he said darkly, hitching you up slightly to stabilize your weight against the wall. with your body readjusted comfortably, you could better focus on the way he pounded into you. it was different this time- the movement of his hips felt more intentional, more loving, despite their punishing speed.

a feeling of warmth spread through you, and the pleasure had you biting your lip to keep quiet. one hand remained on his face and the fingers of your other hand slid through his hair and secured a tight grip. the dull pain made his mouth open and his head tip forward, looking down at where your bodies met. you gushed around his cock as he thrusted, a faint ring of sticky precum and sweat forming around the base and dripping down his thighs. the sight made him even harder, and you could feel him growing inside you. “christ, you’re tight,” he whispered under his breath.

again, you could feel your orgasm fast approaching, and you were sure he wasn’t far behind. your thighs burned as you pressed them firmly into his waist, but nothing could slow him down. the timing of his skin slapping against yours almost matched the rhythm of the song that shook the walls of the house, the music still blasting loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

a switch flipped inside you and the electric waves of your orgasm rocked through your body, your pussy clenching around him like a vice. wanton moans and whimpers slipped past your lips as your body shook, with no end in sight to the pleasure you were experiencing. toji leaned in and nipped at your earlobe, the unfamiliar sensation making your walls ripple around his cock. “o-oh my god- toji toji toji- fuck! h-holy fuck i’m fucking c-cumming,” you moaned. your voice broke slightly and your noises turned to short screams as he continued to fuck you through it.

”that’s it baby, say my name, who makes you f-feel this good?” he growled into your ear. his balls tightened and his orgasm caught up with yours, his cum shooting out in short spurts that coated your pussy in a sinful shade of white. you both let your instincts take control as your bodies shook and your orgasms wound down from a white hot fire to a sweet burn in your abdomens. his thumb was still tracing patterns on your clit as he went soft inside you. he would have stayed there for hours if you hadn’t started shaking from being too overstimulated. a small noise of discomfort escaped your throat. that was his cue to pull out and gently lower your unstable legs to the ground. he kept his hands on your waist as you took deep breaths and reacquainted yourself with gravity once more.

toji then pulled your dress back down, but not before observing the filthy mixture of his cum and your juices sliding down your thighs. once he memorized the glorious sight, he smoothed his hands down the front of your dress, doing his best to hide the fact that he just fucked you silly. he did not do a good job.

he stepped back and took your hands in his, drawing small circles on your knuckles with his thumbs. the both of you took a second to come back down and sealed the moment with a deep yet soft kiss. when you pulled away for a breath, his eyes met yours and all of a sudden you were giggling. his innocent look of confusion made you laugh even more, and soon enough you were covering your face with your hands. nothing in particular was funny, but the alcohol in your system was still metabolizing, and you couldn’t control yourself.

seconds later, you felt you feet lift off the ground again as toji scooped you up to carry you bridal style. “what’s so funny, huh? you laughin’ at me punk?” he teased. your giggles died down and you caught your breath, sighing now that you could fully relax your tired body. the ache of being folded like a pretzel in his arms was starting to set in, and you were grateful that you didn’t have to walk on your own feet.

”no,” you said with a soft smile, “i’m jus’ happy, that’s all,” you assured him. you. let your eyes slip closed and fell into a state of consciousness between sleep and wakefulness, letting toji carry you wherever he saw fit. as you felt him walk up the stairs and open a door, you smelled the familiar scent of his bedroom. it was a pleasant surprise after being stuck in a hot basement of alcoholics for a few hours.

your eyes remained closed as he laid you on his bed gently, the mattress cradling your body. toji began undressing you again, softly asking you to sit up so he could lift your dress overhead. he tossed it in his laundry pile to be assessed later and stepped into his bathroom to retrieve a washcloth to run under warm water.

when he returned, your eyes were still shut. he ran the washcloth over your body, cleaning off the sweat that pooled around your hair and between your breasts. he then worked his way between your legs, moving slowly as not to overstimulate you further. once you were cleaned, he made another trip to the bathroom and returned with a makeup wipe, carefully holding your chin as he did his best to remove your smeared mascara and lipstick. his large hands felt heavenly as they grazed along your nose and lips, removing as much makeup as he could so you could sleep comfortably.

toji cleaned himself up as well and grabbed a big shirt to pull over your head. he loved the sight of your naked body, but seeing your smaller frame swimming in his worn t-shirt made him feel things. after his bedtime ritual, he climbed into bed and pulled you close to him, and in your light sleep you threw an arm over his broad chest and a leg cross his waist. he didn’t plan on moving, but now he was certain he wasn’t going anywhere without you, not tonight, and not ever again.

he kissed the top of your head, and hoping you were still awake enough to hear him, he asked, “wanna talk over breakfast tomorrow?” your body remained still as you huffed out a small noise in agreement, after which he started to think about which of his favorite hangover cures he would have you try in the morning. in the moments before he dozed off to sleep as well, he matched his breath with yours. toji thanked whatever deities in existence that he had chosen you, and more importantly, that you had chosen him too.

#toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji x you #toji smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut

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carlsangel · 27 days

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pure regret (g.i.t.w, ch.5)

carl grimes x fem!reader

warning: mentions of puking and fearing it? idk, gutting walkers, death.

masterlist here!

other chapters here! (plus a map of alexandria to make it make sense is here!)

Carl ran through Alexandria, doing what he could to protect the people around him while simultaneously scrambling to find his father. Meanwhile all that was going through his brain was you. He obviously wanted to be with his family but over the course of the week he’d spent with you he really connected with you. He genuinely cared for you. While running inside of Jessie’s house, he’d looked around the trees surrounding the walls for you. Just in case he’d see you. But he didn’t.

You were watching him the entire time, however. Every step he took, every walker he plunged his knife into. You tracked him the entire time. You lower your rifle once he disappears into the house and you take in your surroundings. Below you, there were walkers passing by to the open passage so you were trapped in your tree. You had to make do with what you had. You steadied yourself on the thick branch and silently opened your bag to find any ammo. You found a good amount of bullets and slid them into your jacket pocket, sinking the thin fabric down with the weight of the metal and gunpowder.

You sat there frustrated. You wish you weren’t so fucking stubborn. Maybe you could be down there with him and could help. No one there knows who you are, you’d just be a stranger. Probably wouldn’t be the best decision after the community was just invaded. Plus you’re safer outside the walls, but even then you want to protect him. You were filled with pure regret.

You lift your rifle back up to your eye and look through the community, seeing those you’ve observed over and over scramble to find shelter. Some made it, some didn’t. You look back to Jessie’s house, focusing in on the windows but it was a bit far to understand exactly what was going on. It wasn’t long until the windows were covered with sheets or whatever it was they were using in that house. You thought about it for a while, realize it’d probably be best to not shoot from your tree. You knew you’d have to leave the tree at some point.

You planned an escape, there weren’t many options. You could always just shoot from the tree, except with the amount of walkers surrounding the area and the incoming walkers as well, there was a good chance the tree wouldn’t withstand it. You needed something that wouldn’t break, something that could withstand the insane amount of walkers.

A house perhaps.

You wanted to rule out shooting from the community, although it’d make the most sense since it was already filled, but also you’d draw more. That’s when you heard a couple of ruckus’s from the houses. You knew they’d draw more and more regardless of the shots. It didn’t matter, you wanted to shield him. You knew he had a baby sister too, although you didn’t know her you wanted to protect her.

You hated the effect Carl had on you. Now you started to care for not just him but also his family.

─── ⋆⋅ ꒰ა 𐚁 ໒꒱ ⋅⋆ ───

Carl pushed back the white sheet that covered the window back every couple of minutes to look for you. He thought maybe you’d not actually left Alexandria and you were inside the walls looking for him. He knew you weren’t that stupid though. He just wanted to be around you, experience this with you. Everything he did that led up to this point didn’t matter. He wanted you.

“S’it bad out there?” Michonne approaches him as he gazes out the window. He turns back to glance at her then back out to the sea of the dead. He wasn’t paying attention initially. He was looking for you. “Yeah pretty bad.” He lets the sheet fall from his hands and he turns to look at Michonne. He looks distressed which is reasonable. “Hey don’t worry…we’re gonna get through this. We always do.” Michonne explains, doing her best to comfort him. He nods which led to him shaking his head. “No it’s not that. I know we’re gonna make it, it’s just…others i’m worried about.”

She had a sneaking suspicion there was some deeper reasoning. He’d been acting strange ever since he met you and everyone could notice except him. He’d been disappearing for hours, he recently brought home a broken rifle he was oddly obsessed with…Michonne had an inkling he’d found the ghost in the woods. That’s what the other kids told her he’d been out looking for. “You found her didn’t you?” She inquires amused. He furrows his eyebrows. “Found who?” Like Michonne was stupid.

“You know who I mean. The girl who lingers in the trees.” Carl catches himself almost smiling, but he knows it’s not the time. “Yeah. I found her.” He looks back out to the trees and Michonne gives him his space.

Meanwhile the area beneath your tree was clear, most of the walkers had gotten into Alexandria and the surrounding woods were empty (minus a few stragglers.) You slowly lower yourself to the woods floor. Over the amount of time you’ve been on your own, you know how to be quiet when walking through the forest. So, you use that to your advantage. You manage to sneak up on a lone walker.

You plunge your knife through its head and catch its body, laying it out on the floor. You look down at it and contemplate your life for a couple seconds, mentally preparing yourself for what comes ahead. You take in a deep breath and begin to slice open its torso, slicing it open to pull out its insides. The smell of rotted meat fills your nose and you struggle to keep it together. You spread its guts all over your jacket and jeans. You wiped your hands off and found a small bit of mud to spread on your face, anything to make you smell and look dead. You were praying to God that when this was all over you’d be able to shower at Alexandria, or at least wash your clothes.

“Oh fuck.” You mutter, feeling what you fear most. You feel like you’re going to puke. Growing up it was your worst nightmare, it always made you feel like shit. You look up to the orange sky as the sun was setting and you shut your eyes, breathing in deeply. You needed to do this, you needed to protect him. It’s not like you believed he couldn’t do it on his own, but you knew that if he had someone on the outside, he’d have better odds at escaping.

You slowly make your way to a different crate that was placed against Alexandria’s east wall and climb up, just to hear some commotion that somehow sounded over the entire sea of walkers. It comes from the direction of Carl’s house, which at this point is straight ahead. You aren’t sure what to do in this moment, your head is scrambled with what could be happening to him as you watch the walkers make their way over. You push through, however, and the only thing motivating you is that Carl could still be alive. However likely that is.

You jump down to the floor, catching the attention of some walkers, but you use the skills you built to find a way to climb up the nearest house onto its steep roof. This house is at the edge of Alexandria, you can see almost everything, except the large apartment building almost blocked the infirmary. What really matters, is that you can see Carl’s house. However, your shoes are so worn down you were sliding while climbing. You straddle the roof almost and lift the rifle back up to your eye to spot people standing at the porch of his house. They apparently had the same tactic that you learnt early on in the apocalypse.

You watch as they slowly make their way through.

Carl, however is incredibly annoyed. If it wasn’t for Ron, no one would be in this situation in the first place. But he takes this opportunity to look for you some more. He looks around while clutching Judith tightly underneath. He gives up when the group approaches to a stop. You’re confused as to why they might do that but you see Carl with a baby in his hands which makes you realize that’s his little sister. He hands her to a priest, the one you remember seeing from the gates but he wanders off. They all begin to walk again and the sun is setting which makes everything so much more difficult to see.

Not to mention they begin to walk past towards the gates, but you start to lose sight of them. Without getting killed, you slide onto the balcony, off the house and to a house further in the neighborhood. Just three houses over which was shorter and easier to climb onto. You still needed the high ground, and you didn’t want to draw attention by joining his group. You didn’t want to be seen, either.

─── ⋆⋅ ꒰ა 𐚁 ໒꒱ ⋅⋆ ───

You watched carefully as the group made its way out. You followed the line with your rifle and you could help but cringe whenever the little kid would call out for his mom. You couldn’t focus on that though, you train your scope back into Carl and continue to watch. That was until they came to a full stop.

Your eyebrows furrow as you watch Carl tug a bit and move to the small child who seems to be panicking. That kid was always so nosy. It wasn’t long before his screams overpowered those of the dead. You realized you could be doing something here, you could be helping but you didn’t want to kill anyone. Not a human. You wanted to save every human life you could, especially after your family passed. You notice the mother of the kid sobbing profusely, but you can see Carl tugging his wrist away.

There’s nothing you can do, but they’re being surrounded.

Carl scrambles to come up with any solution, so he calls out for his dad who isn’t all there. He’s distressed as he watches the walkers pile over the child and the woman. Carl calls out a couple times and he pulls out his axe to sever the woman’s arm. Carl topples over, you see Ron, the other boy grab something from the floor and get up quickly.

It all happens so fast, but for the both of you, only one moment slows down time.

The moon glares against your scope, it’s trained on him so he sees a gentle beam of light cross his eyes. His eyebrows furrow as he spots you on a roof in the distance. He can almost smile as relief fills his body. He hears his dad behind him, bringing him back down to the situation in front of him.

He looks down to see Ron, he’s holding a gun in his direction.

That’s the last thing he sees before the gun goes off.

a/n: ALMOST OVERRRRR i hope this was banger and it made sense, look to the link of the map if it doesn’t!!! if u have questions let me know i’m terrible at directions SHANBDBDND

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @lunarnightt @ilikestrawberriesandwomen @hiro--aoki @h00d-tr4sh @callsignwidow @lilyglasergrimes @smollbean42905 @deadgirlwalkingx @txrasbae @lalaloopsie12309 @crusadecherryblossom @violetashfall @zombiigrll @amanita-raine @prettylittlevampire12 @shadowybasementmiracle @junkyard-juno27 @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n @sophiaatwdluver @baileebear @tabathastan @sstar-ggirl

#carl grimes #the walking dead #twd #carl grimes twd #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes fluff #carl grimes x fem!reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes the walking dead #the walking dead carl #carl grimes smut #twd carl #twd fanfiction #twd smut

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macbethsymphony · 3 months

Note

Bb!!!!! Ok! Hear me out!!!!! Bartolomeo fucking you like a whore then later learns you’re a strawhat!!!!!!

-M✨

MILLIE!!!!! YOU KNOW I’M FUCKING UNHINGED ABOUT THIS MAN!!!! Ok but like YES!!!! Hear me out for a sec.

It’s purely transactional, you’re looking to get fucked and so is he.

He’s all teeth and tongue as he slams you to the door of the dingy hotel room you’re staying at. He so fucking big and the way his fingers tangle roughly in your hair, guiding your head however he wants as his tongue dominates yours is downright dizzying.

When he pulls away, it’s with that shit eating grin and you’re breathless and your knees feel weak. He harshly pulls your head back and you’d struggle a bit out of principle if only you weren’t already struggling to keep yourself upright already. His other hand travels to your jaw and his fingers dig in painfully, forcing it open.

“You like that, huh?” His eyes search yours, looking for confirmation. His smirk widens as sees it, the raw desire, the want in your gaze. He spits in your mouth, his hand moving from your jaw to your mouth, bitter pads of his fingers mixing his spit and yours, dangerously close to your throat.

“Just like a fucking whore,” he chuckles, fingers so far he’s making you gag. And you can feel yourself dripping at the degradation, at the satisfaction in his gaze.

He unceremoniously chucks you on the bed. Doesn’t even bother pulling down your underwear, just pulls your skirt up and slides the drenched fabric to the side before his tongue meets your heat without warning. Goes right down to business. The metal of his tongue piercing against your clit makes you see stars and he brings you so near the edge. He’s uncaring in the force of his fingers digging in your flesh, inevitably leaving bruises behind.

He stops as you feel yourself teetering, almost there. And as you open your mouth to protest, he sneers down at you and harshly pulls your panties off, stuffing them in your mouth. The taste of your arousal strong on your tongue.

Before you can react he flips you over, trapping your thighs between his. You try to scramble up but you feel his grip in your hair as he pushes you back down. The sound of of him undoing his belt is loud in the silence of the room.

He slides in easily, his teeth sinking in your shoulder. One of his hands finds your clit, balancing the fine line between pain and pleasure as he draws out blood.

When Bartolomeo finally starts fucking you, he fucks you rough. The hand he has in you hair pushes your face ruthlessly into the musty sheets of the motel as he pounds mercilessly into you. The squelching sound is obscene and the bed creaks and slams loudly against the wall with each of his thrusts.

Your drool seeps past the thin fabric of your ruined underwear mixing with tears and snot into the rough weave of the covers and your fingers claw desperately, catching into snapping threads. Your muffled moans are desperate, stuck at the back of your throat, coming out closer to sobs as you struggle for breath. Each time his teeth sinks into your flesh a sharp cry escapes you and his attention to your clit intensifies.

You’d already been so close just with his tongue and between the ecstasy of his fingers and the ruthlessness of his cock, he brings you over the edge repeatedly, your cunt twitching around him.

When he’s over with you, his seed hot against your back and your thighs, he simply slaps your ass one last time and leaves without uttering a word.

So when Bartolomeo sees you in that house on top of the hill, chatting and laughing along with your crew, bite marks and bruises still fresh on your skin, he can’t fucking believe it. And when his beloved Luffy-senpai introduces you as a member of the crew he can feel the blood draining from his face and he can’t help but reconsider his decisions of the past night.

FUCK I really should make this a full fic… adds it to the WIP list

#one piece x reader #one piece smut #bartolomeo #bartolomeo x reader #Bartolomeo x you #Bartolomeo smut #one piece fanfiction #charlou writes #anon ask #charlou answers

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pillowbo · 6 months

Text

Wrestling me to my sheets, you are about to win our playfighting, but I play dirty. My fingers stroke your sides, and you laugh, losing your balance and falling onto your back for me to pin you by one wrist.

You reach up and feel my nipple through my binder. I bow forward, melting into your touch, but still keeping my grip around your other wrist.

Our bare thighs caress when I straddle you, and I've won. I move my hips and we barely brush at the apex of our legs. You pretend to strain against my grasp, but by the look on your face, you like this turn of events.

With one swift motion, I grab your other wrist and find the cuffs on the nightstand. The metal glints with a warm hue cast from the tealights in a row.

They clamp cold around your wrists and you are secured to the headboard at my complete mercy. You're so sweet like this for me I can't help myself; I cup your jaw and kiss you so tenderly, lowering myself over you and pressing our bodies together as we make out.

Fuck. The feel of your bulge pressed against my cunt is threatening to make me lose my composure and just rip your panties off now. Soft whimpers draw from my mouth as I rut into you, the friction against my briefs intoxicating.

I stop myself and heave, shockingly already at the edge so fast. I look at you, your lashes sweeping over eyes that show such vulnerability. My hands roam down hungrily to your hips, and they raise off of the bed in response.

I raise slightly with a smug grin.

Silly girl, with a tent in your striped panties that bring forth the image of a big top. Think I'm going to pull them off and relieve the pressure? No, we're nowhere near that.

You squirm when I kiss down your neck. I look up at you and you're biting your lip, stifling your whines, holding back from me. We're not having that.

I find the place that I know is tender and chuckle against the warm divot when I get an enthusiastic response. My kisses are hot and wet right there, eliciting those sweet whines and moans that send flames through my veins.

I lift up suddenly and push down on your chest when you protest.

Your whimpering for more ceases when I roll my binder over top of me, freeing my nipples that are so hard they can no longer stand to be restrained.

A noise catches in the back of your throat as you are now throbbing against my cunt. We're panting, my head dizzy, but I once again resist the urge to tear the rest of our clothes off and fuck you.

You begin to beg for it and it's so delicious it fuels me forward, wanting more to prolong your torment than I am focused on chasing my own release.

Making us both wait for it, just swirling in that pool of arousal, is just as good if not better than the sex itself. Don't you agree? I know you do, it's why you let me do this with you, let me tease you until you're crying with need.

I lower myself back to you and kiss your shoulder then down, taking in your scent. You're rutting up toward my mouth when I kiss down your stomach, twisting fitfully in the sheets.

You are openly begging for me to go down faster.

It's torture fuck it is, I want you but I continue my trail down devastatingly slow.

This is so much harder for me than it is for you, I tell you.

Your skin glistens with the want to be touched all over and I can't help myself, I lick at the place where your panties press into your thigh. You jump at the wetness and warmth.

All at once I am on your clothed, rock-hard dick with my tongue, flat licks up the front of your panties from the base to the tip, and you are wheezing.

It twitches beneath the fabric as I kiss it on the underside of your tip, and then I slow to a stop when it pulses under my lips.

I grab your balls and squeeze them, telling you to breathe.

You beg through shallow breaths and I'm on your dick again, with lighter touches with my lips and tongue than before.

Your please-fuck-mes and my name mesh together as they flow unfiltered from your mouth, on tap for my delight.

Your voice fills me with so much pleasure, it just makes me want to keep you in this torment forever; I tell you this before I give your dick one more kiss and I lift back over you, pressing our bodies together.

You better not dare come, I say then, and I grind my cunt on the base of your shaft.

I repeat this whole process several more times until we are both panting frantically, flushed and slick with sweat as if I've already pounded you through several orgasms.

Finally, I have decided that we're ready. Without warning I grab your ass and lift your hips, pulling your panties down your thighs, so wet as they roll all the way down.

Your yeses blending with my name makes me laugh through my heavy breaths, even sweeter to my ears than your desperate begging.

My hands shake as I peel off my briefs, my cunt throbbing and hot. I press it down onto your shaft and grind into you, finally naked as we touch.

You cry out as you come almost immediately. I'm quick to join you, pummeling your twitching, pulsing dick that unloads onto our stomachs and screaming your name as I come hard and squirt violently on you.

I am not done.

My lovely girl, I tell you through ragged breaths, you were so good, I am going to reward you now by teaching you how to get a dick wet.

I reach for our nightstand again and pull out my strap. I stick the bulb end inside while I am still coming down from that first high and you are watching me in anticipation.

Maybe a little bit of anxiety in your eyes.

I ask you if you are okay and you say yes, and I remind you to use our word if you are not.

You say okay.

Such a good girl for me, I say.

I use your ejaculate to lube up my strap, scooping some off of your stomach and stroking up and down the base to the tip while you watch wide-eyed.

I grip your asscheeks and lift up your hips, then I scoop up more of your essence and finger your hole. You moan deep in your throat as I slowly stretch you out.

I line up my wet strap to your entrance, gasping at your high whine as I slowly enter you.

I check in once again if you're okay.

The last thing I want to do is hurt you.

You practically yell at me to fuck you.

I laugh in surprise, then groan low as I push down on your chest and I push in and out, clumsy at first. I gasp at the sensation, pulled into a rhythm as instinct takes over.

You throw your head back with a sensual moan. Fuck it. I pick up the pace, and soon I am pounding you hard, crying out into your shoulder as a second orgasm wracks my body.

I keep going through my spasms. I need you so bad. I need to touch and taste and smell you like the air that I breathe. I need to know and memorize every inch of you, my love.

I fuck your ass until ropes of your come splash on my stomach and chest. Your eyes roll back and you jump as I grab your dick and pump you for more and more.

You say it's too much, you're so sensitive, but you love being pushed past the point where the pleasure becomes torment. It's why you let me win, why you let me cuff you, why you haven't said our word as I pound in and out of you until I come shaking and yelling.

I can't get enough! I tell you as I bring us both to white hot pleasure again and again and again.

The candles slowly burn down and the room goes dark with puffs of smoke, burning us both down with eternal desire.

#t4t #transmasc4transfem #trans nsft #queer nsft #transmasc nsft #transfem nsft #overstim nsft #denial kink #edging nsft #strap #rutting #grinding #t4t nsft #st4t #straight t4t #transhet

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kiss-me-cill-me · 7 months

Note

i’m not sure if anon has already requested a character for that song but if ur up for it CAN WE HAVE THAT SONG WITH JONATHAN CRANE. also i just listened to that song for the first time in like 3 years and got major deja vu lmao 😭

also ps i love u and ur writing !!!

This is related to another ask from an anon, requesting a fic based off of Katy Perry's song, The One That Got Away. I am so sorry to both of you that it's taken me forever to write this, but thank you for your patience and support <3

Now We Pay The Price | Pt. 1

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: Life hasn't turned out exactly the way you wanted it to. Isolated and distraught as you watch time slip by while you sit, trapped in Arkham, your only wish is to recapture the way that things used to be.

Warnings: Angst, whump, sexual themes but no explicit smut, mental health themes, obsession, unhealthy relationship dynamics, mention of needles, mention of sedatives, unrequited love, established past romantic relationship, ambiguity

A/N: I hardly ever write angst, so please be gentle with me lol. But with the song inspo, I couldn't help but go in that direction. Slightly nervous to post this, but also happy that I've branched out from my comfort zone a bit!

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

Lying on your stomach, feet in the air, you stretched the thin cotton sheets with your hand. Just enough to give them the tension you needed to glide a ballpoint pen over the fabric, scratching over and over the same mark to make it appear complete. This was far from the perfect medium for doodling - but sheets were what you had, and so they were what you used.

Even the pen was contraband. You knew you weren’t supposed to have it. What anyone thought you’d do with it… honestly, you had no idea. As if you could use a pen for anything other than what you were wrapped up in doing now - carefully and determinedly drawing hearts.

You stopped to rest your head for a moment on the pitifully thin pillow. Across the room, blank white concrete stared back at you. Day in, day out. Endless. The same room with the same walls.

Picking up the pen again, you placed the tip right in between the lobes of one of the many hearts. Scratch, scratch, scratch. A messy, zig-zagging line bisected the doodle.

Broken.

You sighed, and started to color a different heart, filling it with blue ink that didn’t seem very inclined to stick to the bed sheets. It was slow going. The deep azure tint reminded you of deoxygenated blood, like you would see in a textbook diagram. Once the heart was completely filled, you moved dutifully on to the next.

A rustling at your door made you jump. Quickly, you stuffed the pen under your pillow, and turned up the sheets to hide your drawings. It wouldn’t be very good for you if anybody saw them.

You sat up, arranging your rumpled jumpsuit as neatly as you could. Leather straps hung off the sides of your bed, and you spared them a glance, bristling at the memories of having them lashed over your body.

The metal door slid open slowly, until you could finally see…

Him. Your heart skipped a beat and a half as he stepped stiffly into the room, pulling the door shut behind him. He didn’t make a show of locking it, but it was still all too hard to miss the way his hand stopped short at the keyhole, before slipping into his pocket.

“Jonathan. I’m so glad-”

“Don’t call me that,” he bristled. “In here, we don’t know each other. Please. You always forget that.”

“...Dr. Crane,” you corrected yourself.

His tone was so bitter that you could feel it in the very back of your throat, trying to claw its way down to your heart. You swallowed, trying to bite back the taste.

“I’m sorry. I was just happy to see you.” You smiled, pushing through your discomfort, for his sake.

Crane was clearly agitated. He took a few steps into the room, before turning around and facing the door. For one brief moment, you couldn’t see his face, until finally he turned back. His eyes were ice as they stared down at you.

“Do you have any idea how difficult you’ve been making things for me?” he spat.

The accusation hurt, of course. Though you knew very well what he meant. You had been acting out, more than usual, as of late. And although it wasn’t without a purpose, you could see that it was wearing him thin. But… how else were you supposed to see each other?

Arkham Asylum wasn’t exactly known for its model patients. It took a lot to get Dr. Crane’s attention.

“If we spent more time together, I wouldn’t be so difficult,” you replied, trying to keep your tone even.

Crane pinched the bridge of his nose, in that way that you were well acquainted with. He’d always had that habit. Back when you’d first met, you had loved making him get frustrated - just enough for a laugh. Some things never changed.

“You’re really backing me into a corner,” Crane sighed. “And I really wish you wouldn’t.”

“Let’s talk,” you offered, patting the bed. “That’s what you’re here for, right?”

Crane, reluctantly, sat down. You could sense his exhaustion in the way that he almost collapsed onto the bed, hands gripping the edge for support. You inched a bit closer, enough so that your knees touched briefly. Crane pulled away.

You wanted to reach out; put a hand on his shoulder, just like you’d done so many times before. He used to like it when you touched him. Sometimes, you liked to think that yours was the only gentle embrace that he had ever known. Maybe it was silly, but the thought of it always made you feel better.

Now, Crane’s eyes held nothing but menace as he glared over at you, as if you were a stain on the bed sheets. You wondered, vaguely, what had happened to change things.

So much. So much that had led you to this place, where you could be so close to him and yet felt more separated than ever.

“I hate to say it, Doc, but I think I’m going crazy in here,” you joked, trying to lighten the mood.

He barely had a reaction; a deep sigh the only hint that he’d heard what you said at all.

“And why do you think that is?” he asked, finally.

The psychiatrist in him always came through to shove even more distance between you. Like a shield, put up just when you’d started to press through the fog of tension that hung heavy in the room. You swallowed your frustration at being kept out, and tried to answer him honestly.

“Because I barely get to see you,” you replied.

That was the wrong answer, and Crane’s shoulders swung abruptly to face you.

He was scary like this. Almost scary, anyway. If you didn’t know him better, the look in his eyes would have sent you cowering.

But you did know him, so well, and you remembered with sudden clarity that he’d always been bothered by feeling inadequate. You felt awful; you hadn’t meant to imply that he wasn’t doing enough.

“I’m sorry,” you soothed, before he could say anything. “I know that you’re busy, but-”

“But you continue to make yourself into a problem,” he hissed. “You know the only reason you’re in here instead of rotting away over at Blackgate is because of me, right?”

You nodded, too shocked by embarrassment to speak.

“Then for my sake, why don’t you act like it?”

“I’m…” You paused for a moment, sharp tears welling up in your eyes. “I’m just… lost without you,” you whispered. “You know that. I always told you I would be.”

The first tear fell, and you tried to hide your face.

“Don’t cry,” Crane sighed.

You could hear the harsh tinge of annoyance in his voice, and wished that it was anything else. Even his pity would have been better than knowing that your feelings were now nothing but inconvenience. You choked on your own throat, trying to stifle a sob.

“Please don’t cry,” he mumbled, slightly softer this time.

But now that you’d started, you couldn’t make yourself stop. If anything, the tears were only coming faster, and you felt yourself start to shrink into your own chest. The little black pit that always seemed to sit there, now swiftly opening up to swallow you.

With a deep and lingering exhale, Crane pulled you close. Suddenly, you were back where you both had been, so many years ago: one person’s cheek pressed into the other’s shoulder. Tears soaking into fabric that seemed to be stained with sadness. You let out a half-laugh, half-sob, and nestled into the crook of his neck.

“Remember when I used to do this for you?”

Crane stiffened slightly beside you.

“Things have changed since then,” he muttered.

Your memory suddenly flashed back to the first time he had used the words “dysfunctional attachment” to describe you. That had hurt worse than anything else. Even more than all of the other occasions to come, when you’d heard those same words and worse fall from his lips. They could never truly compare to that first time, when your whole world had come crashing abruptly to the ground.

His arm dropped away from you, but you kept your face pressed into his shoulder.

“Things haven’t really changed,” you said. “I still belong to you.”

“You don’t.”

Two words that stung worse than hundreds of needles. You tried to pretend that the wind hadn’t been knocked out of you, as you replied.

“I do. And I will. Always.”

You looked up at him with wet eyes, a trace of the old life that you’d shared together still evident deep within your pupils. Even if only the memories of it lived inside of you, they still lived. They were still something.

“You need to move on,” Crane said flatly. “I know it’s not easy in here, with me…” He sighed. “I did what I could to protect you, but maybe it would have been better if I had just stayed out of your case. Blackgate would have at least given you distance.”

“I don’t want distance,” you whispered. “I just want to be with you.”

“You can’t be.”

Always so stubborn.

“I could be, if you’d help me get out.”

Confusion flashed across Crane’s face, quickly replaced with raw terror.

“Escape Arkham?” His eyebrows furrowed, nearly knitting together. “You can’t be serious. Do you even realize what-?”

“I know, I know,” you hummed. “But just think - we could run away together, just like we always talked about.”

“Stop.”

“Don’t you remember? We promised-”

“Things. Change.” Crane’s voice almost shook as it thundered.

You brought a hand up to his face, gently coaxing until he looked at you.

“But they don’t have to,” you breathed.

Your eyes drifted down to your wrist, to the space just below your thumb, and over the little tattoo that was etched into your skin. A heart - just like the ones littering your blanket, hidden carefully from Crane’s view.

“Remember when you gave me this?” you asked, holding up the tattoo in front of him.

“No; I remember you doing that to yourself.”

“At first, sure,” you chuckled. “But then, you helped me to finish it, ‘cause-”

“Because I didn’t want you to hurt yourself,” Crane muttered. “Just like you always seem to. Even now.”

You ignored his remark as your hands drifted down to collect one of his pale wrists, then lifted up to your face. The sleeve of his suit jacket slipped back, revealing the spot where once, long ago, you had given him the same mark. Just with a felt-tip pen; he would have never allowed you, even back then, to deface his own body in the same way you had yours.

At the time, the impermanence of it hadn’t seemed to matter. You’d been too distracted; elated by the way that his and your matching blossoms of ink had pressed up against each other as you’d held hands.

Now, you pressed a kiss to the blank space.

“Us against the world, Jonathan. Remember?”

Suddenly, his fingers pressed into your face, digging into the sides of your chin as he forced you back into focus.

“Don’t call me that,” he warned, once again. “How many times do I have to tell you? That life doesn’t exist in here.”

Your hands still dangled from his wrist as he continued to crush your jaw, not letting you look away. But this was the one part of him that you didn’t want to face. The part that didn’t need you anymore.

“Jonathan. You know the reason I’m in here, don’t you?”

“Are you asking if I know about your case? All of the crimes you committed?” he huffed. “Because yes - I was very involved in the trial, and it was nearly impossible to keep everyone else in the dark about…”

Us was the word that he couldn’t bring himself to say.

“That’s not what I mean,” you said. “I mean, do you know why I did those things?”

“Stop - please don’t tell me this again.”

“I did them for you,” you cried, your emotions getting the better of you again. “I do everything for you. So don’t you dare pretend you don’t need me, when really the only fucking reason you’re not stuck in here with me is because I always-”

“Stop.”

Crane’s hands tore away to grab you by the shoulders, wrenching you back to reality. Somehow he always managed to do that. To pull you straight out of the riptide, just as it was about to sweep you away.

“I never asked you to do what you did,” he hissed, articulating each word between clenched teeth.

“But I did it anyway,” you spat. “Because you always get into trouble. Because I told you I’d be there for you, no matter what. And because I always keep promises.”

“I don’t need you to anymore.” Crane’s hands squeezed you uncomfortably. “I don’t - I didn’t need you to ruin your life for me.”

“My life isn’t ruined if it’s for you.”

“Jesus Christ…”

Crane’s hand came up to rake through his hair, but before he could pull away fully, you caught him. Fingers clenched tight to the front of his suit, you pulled back and forced him to fall with you. Your back hit the bed, and Crane scrambled to catch himself before his full weight could slam into you. His body perched just above yours, caging you in his arms.

“This. You must remember this.”

Your words were a whisper, barely loud enough to pass from your lips to his ear, despite how close he was. Your legs frantically came up to tug at his waist, trying to force him closer.

“This was the only time I felt alive,” you continued. “When we were like this. You remember.”

How could he not? You could still live in that moment, if you tried hard enough. As if it had been only yesterday. Both of you nervous and fumbling, nearly falling off of the bed as he hovered over you and you clung to him.

The way that your bodies had melted together, almost desperately, in a way that had made you feel certain that neither one of you would let go. Letting go then had meant something worse than death; it meant a life that dragged on without you and him together.

The stale echoes of passion still rang in your ears as you looked up, silently begging for him to rekindle the spark that had been there.

Crane’s expression was all but impossible to read. His face half-hidden beneath bangs that fell into his eyes. The two-second pause was like a lifetime as you awaited his answer.

“Of course I remember.”

Your heart soared, flying recklessly up.

“But that doesn’t mean it’s the same now.”

Broken. Smashed hard against the cold floor of your cell.

“I don’t believe that,” you breathed. “I can’t. I-”

“You need to,” he interrupted. “Because it’s the truth.”

You stayed stock still on the mattress as Crane briskly pushed himself up, disentangling himself from your limbs. He exhaled as he tugged at his jacket, trying to make himself presentable.

You weren’t sure how he could find the nerve, after ripping your whole world apart.

“I’m upping the dose on your sedatives,” he informed you, still not meeting your gaze. “But I would prefer if you could find it within yourself to behave so that I don’t have to. I don’t like to do this, but-”

“Appearances…” Your voice drifted through the room. “Have to be kept up.”

He had told you as much, probably dozens of times. Just like he’d told you the old life between you no longer mattered, or even existed. If it ever had.

“I’m glad you understand,” he said shortly.

His back was already turned, but you looked up to watch him drift out of the room, quickly pocketing the keys on his way out.

Your head fell back, hard, but the sensation did nothing to ground you. You felt all too lost and adrift; trapped in a situation you had created. This wasn’t how things were supposed to end up.

Your hand drifted silently under the pillow, and wrapped around the barrel of the pen that was still hidden there.

Suddenly, grotesque understanding of all the reasons why no one would want you to have such a thing flooded into your consciousness. The possibilities were many and bleak, but they all led back to the same conclusion. It was just like you had told Crane earlier.

If your life together didn’t exist in this place, then the only solution was to leave.

You smiled. With resolve swirling dangerously inside your veins, you vowed to make sure that nothing like this ever happened again. You were going to be together, no matter what.

There would be no getting away.

This fic now has a Part 2! Read it HERE

#jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane #cillian murphy x reader #angst #LemmyFics

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soulofapatrick · 6 months

Text

“I love you” - Jace Herondale x female reader

Summary: you get hurt on a demon hunt with Izzy which leads you to say something to Jace you could only admit in your delirium

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: injury; depicting pain

Y/N’s POV

I’m struggling to stay conscious as Izzy's half dragging me towards the gates, the Institute is only minutes away and looming into view but my legs feel heavy and the blood is still seeping past mine and Izzy’s fingers as we hold her balled up jacket to the gaping wound. The hoodie is already drenched and Izzy’s yelling but it sounds far away, getting harder to keep my eyes open and continue walking, one of my legs giving out and we’re stumbling, almost falling which makes Izzy cry out in frustration and anguish.

“Come on! We are almost there!” Izzy’s growling out and I try to make a witty response but my vision is getting hazy, “For fucks sake Y/N! Jace is waiting for you beyond those doors and you are going to tell him how much you fucking love him!” There’s a sting across my cheek and Izzy is pulling me back up from my knees and I can hear the slamming of doors a few steps later.

I can see the blur of figures rushing towards us but my mind is struggling to focus, everyone blurring into each other and everything feels so distant and surreal. The pain in my side now almost unbearable and I can feel myself slipping away, consciousness beginning to fade into nothingness as I’m falling. Then, strong arms are wrapping around me, catching me under my legs and behind my back and I’m being pulled into a strong chest, the soft breeze ghosting over my face as words rumble from my saviour’s chest. I’m prying my heavy eyes open to see Jace, weatherworn face full of panic and fear as he’s practically running us somewhere and I can’t help but notice how pretty he is. My hand makes it’s way up to cup his cheek, feeling the roughness of his stubble beneath my palm and his honey eyes flick down to mine.

“Izzy…” I try to speak, feeling a metallic tang in my throat as he hushes me gently, “You,” I tap his cheek as he begins to fade from my vision and my body gets heavy, “You, I love you.” As the words leave my lips, my vision blurs and my body goes limp. The pain in my side fading away, replaced with a weightlessness as I pass out, the last thing I feel is my head falling back.

————

I’m momentarily blinded by the brightness of the room when my eyes flutter open, the harsh florescent lights overhead making my head throb and I have to squint to adjust to the sudden brightness. My vision clears after a few more blinks and I take in my surrounds. I’m lying in a bed, the sheets as crisp and white and the room is small and sterile, I’m definitely in the hospital wing of the institute. I’m turning my head to the side to see Jace, he’s curled up uncomfortably in a chair next to my bed, fast asleep.

I slowly take in the sight of Jace, his usually perfectly styled hair now tousled from sleep, giving him a boyish charm that contrasts with his usual confident demeanour. His face, usually set in a cocky smirk or determination during a mission, is now softened in slumber, the tension of our recent ordeal eased away. The gentle rise and fall of his chest under the fabric of his shirt, accentuating the defined muscles beneath, is a comforting sight.

He’s changed into grey sweatpants and a black tee shirt, the fabric stretching snugly over his frame, hinting at the sculpted physique beneath. The shirt, slightly too small, only adds to the allure, emphasising his broad shoulders and toned arms. Despite the casual attire, he still exudes an air of strength and capability, even in repose.

Seeing him asleep by my bedside fills me with a warmth I can't quite explain. It's a mixture of gratitude for his unwavering presence, relief at his safety, and a strange flutter of something deeper stirring within me. In this vulnerable moment, he looks more human, more approachable, yet still retains that magnetic quality that draws me to him. My heart swells with a sense of connection, knowing he's chosen to stay by my side even in his own exhaustion. I want to reach out for him but I can’t remember what happened before I passed out, I know I said something to him and feeling his heart increase against me but I can’t remember what I said exactly.

My throat is dry and scratchy when I try to make a sound, nothing coming out except there’s a dull ache throughout my body, aggravated by moving my mouth. The runes haven’t seemed to help much as I try to sit up but a sharp pain stoped me, making me whimper in agony and shove the blankets off of me to see a bandage covering the gaping wound, spots of blood on it. It’s tender to touch hen I ghost my fingers over it. It’s like the sight of the injury makes all the pain come flooding in and I’m crying out softly, causing Jace to jolt awake.

His eyes widen in alarm as he sees me awake and leaning on my elbows as I’m finally registering my other injuries, the expanse of my stomach and hips are a galaxy of greens, blues, reds and purples and I’m guessing my face and legs are going to be very similar with a few more bandages dotted over me. I’m only in a pair of thin shorts that look like they could belong to Clary and my sports bra as Jace gets up from the chair, his movements sluggish from sleeping in an uncomfortable position. He’s at my side, calloused hand cupping my jaw as he sits on the edge of the bed, rough pad of his thumb soothing over my cheek as his amber eyes flick all over my face.

“Let me get Magnus.” Jace’s voice is like velvet wrapped in steel, filled with concern and worry, “He didn’t want to do any magic on you until you were awake,” I can only not weakly, unable to speak as my throat still feels to tight and raw to form words. Jace gets up and heads to the door, pausing before he opens it and looks back at me, “I’m glad you’re awake.” He says softly before stepping out of the room.

I’m sinking back into the pillows, my body feeling heavy and drained. The memories of the attack come rushing back and tears are welling up in my eyes as the fear and pain becomes almost overwhelming and I’m slamming my eyes shut, taking a deep breath. It does calm me down a little but then I remember what I said to Jace as he took me from Izzy and carried me to the hospital wing. I’m flushing with embarrassment, did I really tell Jace I loved him? Was it just the pain and fear talking? Was it because of what Izzy said when she slapped me to stay awake?

Before I can dwell on my thoughts any longer the door open and Jace is returning with Magnus. Magnus’ entrance is as grand as ever, his presence filling the room with an aura of confidence and magic. He approaches my bedside with a warm smile, his eyes alight with concern and determination.

“Ah, there you are, my dear.” Magnus greets me, his voice carrying a soothing cadence that instantly calms my nerves. "I trust you're feeling a tad better now?”

I manage a weak nod, offering him a grateful smile as he continues, “Well, let's see what we can do about that, shall we?" Magnus gestures with a flourish of his hand, a shimmering blue glow enveloping his fingertips as he taps into his formidable magic. Jace moves to stand next to me, a silent strength just in case anything goes wrong as Magnus explains his plan to heal me, reassuring me that while the ache may persist for a few days, the worst of the injuries will be swiftly dealt with.

As Magnus’ magic washes over me, I feel a surge of hear and tingling sensation, like tiny sparks dancing across my skin. The bruises go through the stages of healing, changing from purple all the way through to yellow until they’re gone. Their vivid colours melting away like paint in the rain. But, along with the magic comes a searing pain when Magnus moves onto healing the gaping wound in my side, as if every nerve in my body is being set ablaze.

The pain is so blinding that my vision swims with white-hot intensity. My body spasms uncontrollably, muscles tensing and releasing in rapid succession as I struggle to endure the onslaught. I’m blindly reaching, seeking something, anything to anchor me amidst the overwhelming torment. My fingers brush against Jace's hand, and I cling to it desperately, his presence a lifeline in the midst of chaos. Through the haze of pain, I hear his voice, a soothing melody amidst the cacophony of agony, whispering words of comfort and reassurance.

But despite his efforts, a primal scream tears its way from the depths of my throat, raw and guttural, echoing off the bright walls of the room. It’s a sound born of sheer anguish ripping through the air despite the dryness and soreness of my already battered throat. My scream must have reached further than the hospital wing as I vaguely hear the door slamming open over the rushing of blood in my ears.

“Magnus! What are you doing?!” I think it’s Alec, his words sounding frantic, filled with concern and laced with pain as Magnus continues to work. Jace is responding, his voice steady despite how hard I’m probably causing him by gripping his hand like a lifeline.

As Magnus's magic works its final wonders, the pain begins to ebb, gradually receding like the tide retreating from the shore. With each passing moment, the torment becomes more and more bearable, until finally, it fades into nothingness, leaving me heaving and trembling in its wake.

My body feels drained of all strength, every muscle quivering with exhaustion. The world around me seems to tilt and sway, spinning in dizzying circles until I'm stumbling forward, my hands reaching out blindly for support. I’m colliding with something solid, a reassuring presence that grounds me in the chaos. I realise it's Jace, his chest a sturdy barrier. Instinctively, he wraps his arms around me, pulling me close as I cling to him desperately, trying to catch my breath.

My forehead falls into the crook of his neck, seeking refuge in his comforting embrace. I feel his warmth enveloping me, his heartbeat steady against my cheek as he whispers soothing words into the air.

With great effort, I force my heavy eyelids open, the world swimming before me in a blur of shapes and colours. Through the haze, I catch a glimpse of Magnus guiding Alec out of the room, the concern etched into Alec's pained expression tugging at my heartstrings. The sight of Alec's distress sends a pang of guilt coursing through me, knowing that my injuries have caused him worry and anguish. But before I can dwell on it further, I feel Jace shifting beside me, his strong arms encircling me protectively.

With a gentle touch, Jace helps me manoeuvre on the bed, making room for himself to join me. I lean into his comforting presence, feeling the tension in my body slowly ebbing away as he settles beside me. His warmth seeps into my bones, easing the residual ache that lingers beneath the surface. I bury my face deeper into the crook of his neck, seeking solace in his familiar scent and the steady rhythm of his breathing.

As Jace whispers soothing words into the air, I feel a sense of calm wash over me, like a beacon of light piercing through the darkness of my pain. In his embrace, I find sanctuary, a refuge from the chaos that surrounds us. He continues to whisper words of comfort, drawing a flicker of memory dancing at the edges of my consciousness. I remember the words I uttered to him in the heat of the moment before I succumbed to unconsciousness—I love you.

With a surge of emotion, my heart squeezes with the intensity of my feelings for him. Pulling away slightly from Jace's embrace, I'm met with the concerned furrow of his brow, his angelic face a picture of worry and care. My gaze falls to his plump lips, the same lips that have offered me words of encouragement, solace, and companionship. In that moment, I'm overcome by an irresistible urge, a longing to feel the warmth of his lips against mine.

Without hesitation, I’m leaning forwards, my body moving of its own accord, guided by the unspoken connection between us. Jace's understanding is evident in the gentle touch of his hand, guiding my lips to his with a tenderness that speaks volumes.

Our lips meet in a tender kiss, a wave of warmth washes over me, enveloping me in a cocoon of bliss. Jace’s lips are soft against mine, his touch gentle yet firm, igniting a spark of desire that courses though my veins. I taste the faint hint of mint on his lips, a lingering trace of the breath mints he always carries with him. It mingles with the natural sweetness of his own taste, creating a heady combination that sends shivers down my spine.

His scent surrounds me, wrapping me in an intoxicating embrace. It's a mix of leather, the crispness of the night air, and something uniquely him—a scent that I've come to associate with safety, comfort, and home.

As the kiss deepens, Jace's touch becomes a lifeline, grounding me in the present moment. His hands on my hips steady me, their warmth seeping into my skin, reassuring me of his presence beneath me. I find myself melting into his touch, the strength of his arms a comforting embrace. But then, with a gentle pull, Jace breaks the kiss, his right hand shifting to cup my cheek with a tenderness that takes my breath away. The rough pad of his thumb brushes against my bottom lip, sending a shiver down my spine as he speaks, his voice a soft murmur against the air.

“I want this as much as you, but you're still healing, sweetheart," he says, his words laced with concern and longing. I can see the desire flickering in his amber eyes, darkened with a want that mirrors my own. His touch feels hot against my cheek and thigh, a contrast to the coolness of the hospital room. In his gaze, I see a reflection of my own desires, mirrored back to me with a raw intensity that leaves me breathless.

Despite the ache that still lingers beneath my skin, I can't deny the pull of attraction between us, the magnetic force that draws us together. With a soft nod, I convey my understanding, my heart pounding with anticipation for what the future may hold.

In this moment, I'm filled with a sense of gratitude for Jace's patience and restraint, knowing that he's willing to wait until I'm fully healed before we embark on this new chapter of our relationship. And as I gaze into his eyes, I feel a renewed sense of hope, knowing that whatever challenges may come our way, we'll face them together, bound by a love that knows no bounds.

The Shadowhunters Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

#Jace herondale #jace herondale #Jace herondale x reader #Jace herondale x you #Jace herondale x y/n #Jace herondale fluff #Jace herondale angst #Jace herondale smut #dominic sherwood #the mortal instruments #the mortal instruments one shots #Jace herondale one shots #Jace wayland #Jace wayland x reader #shadowhunters #shadowhunters x reader #shadowhunters preferences

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t-tomuras · 4 months

Text

🗡 ─── • 𝐁𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐝

Pairing: Carpaccio Luo-Yang x F!reader

Warnings: Sadomasochism, knife play, blood play (?), choking / breath play, slight nipple play, dacryphilia, biting, injuries, creampie.

Wordcount: 3k

Notes: It's softer than it sounds... ? Heed the warnings, dont like dont read. Thank you to @shinsocest for betaing < 3

"Feels good ‘cio,” you coo as you writhe on the plush mattress top, body alight with a multitude of sensations. Delightful to you but all painful in their own right before feeling more, a searing pain that leaves you arching despite remaining untouched as Carpaccio kneels over your body, straddling your knees. Nearly bare with his chest on display and erection straining in his boxers, dark spot staining the fabric with pre as he watches you with rapt attention.

“You look so pretty like this,” comes his calm voice, sending a chill down your body as warm blood trickles down your skin and threatens to stain his pristine sheets should they fall further. A new, thin slash appears on your upper arm to add to the growing collection as your boyfriend drags sharp steel across the same space on his arm only to remain unmarred, “tell me how it feels.”

He doesn’t wait for your answer, just gives another drag of the blade, across his collarbone this time; featherlight in this movement. The wound is shallow, just enough to draw blood like the rest of them, but you hiss so sweetly nonetheless, “it stings, just a bit.”

“Good girl. Good, but stings how? Like a burn? A paper cut? A bite?” He always asks with each new sensation after testing different pressures in different areas of his body. Wine-colored hues flitting to where his next mark will appear to watch it wink into existence. Carpaccio wants to learn them all, he’s elated that you’re willing to be his pretty little test subject, a lovely doll.

The moment suspends with silence before he raises the blade, poised for another drink of blood by proxy. His arm hangs in the air unmoving above you, the scene painting you like a sacrifice to whatever god he worships but tonight you know he’ll only worship you.

You gaze at him unwaveringly before his knife comes down, suddenly and swiftly but the sharp point stops short. Merely touching at your skin, teasingly almost, you can feel the coolness of the metal but he doesn’t apply enough pressure to even break skin.

Sharing a smile after a beat, exhaling the breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. You aren’t afraid, however, you haven’t been throughout the entirety of your relationship with the freshly-appointed Visionary.

He’d become surprisingly gentle with the weapon long before he’d met you, sometime after his first bout of real pain when he was still at Easton, even more so after meeting you.

The cold point only makes you gasp, sigh as you get used to the temperature as Carpaccio traces it down your throat. Humming idly as his eyes rove over your body like he’s mapping out his path in real time. Grazing along where the ends of your ribcage meet before reaching the center of your bra quickly.

Innocently dragging the weapon along the fabric that connects your cups, flattening the blade against your skin as you hold your breath to slip beneath the taut material. Tongue darting out to wet his lips as your boyfriend turns the blade so the point digs precariously into your sternum but no real harm will come to you.

Inhaling with a sharp sound before giggling delightfully at the sound of tearing threads and snapping wires as your breasts are laid bare before him. The fabric falls away as you adjust your arms and lift slightly to toss the ruined garment away, nipples pebbling as the cool of the room touches them when you lay back down. Carpaccio’s eyes watching all of your movements intently, though it’s hardly indicative of what goes on in that twisted little mind you’ve come to adore.

“I asked you a question pretty girl,” his tone is sharp, just like you like. An air of testiness as Carpaccio leans downward, letting his knife rest to the side of your head while he takes to palming your bare breast. Deft digits and broad palm kneading gently at delicate flesh as his thumb rolls over the pert bud while his tongue flicks teasingly at the other to elicit a low moan.

“A slight burn,” you respond after pretending to mull the question over when you were really enjoying the attention you’re lavished with. Stifling a whine when he releases your nipple with a soft pop before leaning up to capture his lips with yours. Exhaling a thankful breath that he doesn’t opt to tease you by dodging your kiss in favor of toying with you more.

You think he’s reached his own limit for the night, ascertaining so when you now feel the straining erection against your lower abdomen before your boyfriend adjusts to pin you to the mattress with a heavy breath.

You love the sound, adore the weight of him over you as Carpaccio adjusts to a better position while lavishing you in attention. Tongue tracing along the already clotting wounds for the delightful metallic tang to invade his senses, for the heady taste to mingle with the sweet smell of your body wash.

An intoxicating mixture only worsened by how you maneuver beneath him with ease so your thighs frame his hips and you can feel the outline of him against your still clothed cunt. Splaying your arms out against your pillow while he busies himself with exploring your body once more like it was the first time with you all over again.

Groping gently along the natural curve of your waist and ghosting over your ribs to cup the underside of your shoulder blades. Basking in the scent of you, kisses and broad laps of his tongue between the valley of your breasts before he’s venturing upward. Sliding one hand to cup the underside of your right arm, lifting it after kneading his thumb into the soft space to take the flat of his wet muscle and drag along the expanse of it, groaning over some still running blood he catches along the way. Coating his taste buds with the precious liquid that keeps your heart beating, selfishly he believes it’s for him but he’s certain you wouldn’t disagree.

Not when you give him this much, keep him so privy to your delicate body and life while you both sate your darker desires.

“Enjoying yourself, sweetheart?” Giggled as your free hand cards through tousled burgundy locks, blunt nails scraping lovingly at his scalp as he makes a sound of affirmation. When didn’t he enjoy himself with you? A delight that doesn’t feel so sick when it comes to instances like these despite the moderate pain he still inflicts.

Carpaccio is ravenous in his handling of you, no doubt enjoying the frustration he breeds in you by pushing down on your hips with your every attempt to grind up into him. To give yourself some much needed friction to your neglected bundle of nerves he manages to avoid even as he’s pressed into you.

You were certain he’d been ready to plunge into you, impale you in a sweeter, more personal way. And yet, still, he takes his time with you.

You shouldn’t be surprised, though; he always does, like with everything else in his life. Inside and outside of battles, your boyfriend loves to drag things out. Doing anything and everything torturously slow even when all he displays is a spiteful apathy but your patience has long since been worn thin.

He gives you an inch when you huff slightly in frustration, removing his hand from your hip in favor of squeezing at the fat of your ass when his lips seals over yours again.

But your satisfaction is short lived when you’re allowed to move because it isn’t enough, far from in fact. Your still covered cunt grinding against his own concealed cock frustrates you further, more than what you enjoy in moments like these. It’s been long enough, you’re more than craving for him and for that closeness unrivaled.

Whining because you know he likes the sound but it’s a wordless plea and insistent sign to give you some space to undress him further. Nimble fingers hooking into the waistband of Carpaccio’s boxers the moment he relents to you (like he always will, and only to you) to shimmy them down first while he kisses along your shoulders and collarbones. Teeth scraping gently along the slope of your trapezius before sinking in with a pressure almost deep enough to break skin but not quite the moment the article of clothing slipped below the curve of his ass.

Just enough for you to mewl and clench your thighs around him, to tug a little more firmly at the wild spikes of his hair and earn a throaty growl from him. Your ankles hook at the small of his back, heels digging into the space to urge him into rolling his hips into you more but he tuts.

“Need you, no more teasing,” you whine even as you tilt your head to allow him more access to your throat. Soft kisses and well placed nips sending shivers in waves down your spine as your hips roll up to meet his, grinding softly as his cockhead nudges into your clit every so often after he’s kicked away his boxers.

Fabric of your panties darkening from the dampness your slick creates before you’re heaving breathy gasps, legs shaking as the frame his narrow hips. You push gently at his shoulders, a slight noise of complaint that Carpaccio only chuckles at; using the hand that props him up above you to hold your jaw to keep you in place. Sealing his lips over yours so you’ll melt into him while he feels about the mattress top for his knife.

Finding the cool handle of it with ease, slowly wrapping it in his firm grip before moving with a swiftness. He cuts away the last article of fabric that separates your bodies so suddenly you jolt, lids shooting open to see his muted delight. Handsome, ever impassive but his eyes shine the slightest bit more, gaze not even lidding as he leans down to capture your lips again.

Pupils staring into your own as his tongue breaches the seam and indulges in the taste of you further. Swallowing soft moans you reward him with as his cock slots perfectly between your folds.

Your boyfriend moves quicker now, elbow propping himself up while he grasps his aching length after coating himself in your wetness with just a few rolls of his hips. Enough to make pushing into you easier but not enough to not sink in without a bit of resistance.

He knows you like to feel your own bit of pain, loves that it’s still inflicted by him. Sweet coo melting into a drown out hiss as gentle prodding turns into a burning stretch.

“Like that?” Comes his gravely question, rhetorical as it is while you fist the pillow beneath your head and the sheets. Moaning breathily as you unclench your teeth.

The perfect amount of foreplay to prime you but also to still need a bit of force as his hand holds fast to your hip. Pushing down on your body to meet how he ruts into you, pelvis grinding into your clit when he’s fully sheathed inside of you.

You arch and moan and babble his name before he even moves, overjoyed by the throb of being filled so suddenly as well as the fullness itself. Eyes rolling the moment Carpaccio cups your throat with one hand, thumb and index fingers applying steady pressure as he forces you to focus on the lazy pull of his lips as he speaks, “how did that feel?”

“Perfect,” purred as your fingers wrap around his wrist, nails biting into his skin and the crescents slowly appear on your own the longer you hold him. Head swimming as you’re slowly, safely, starved of oxygen before he’s dipping down to you again.

Letting up on the pressure as you breathe Carpaccio in completely, letting him overwhelm you in every way as his hips begin to roll into yours at a steady space. Downward into you, cockhead nudging perfectly into that patch that makes you whimper and claw at him with each stroke.

You’re lightheaded before long, coil in your abdomen winding tightly too quickly this time around as you’re hurdled towards your climax. Fluttering lids and hold on him weaker than the initial elated grasp for purchase is telling of your orgasm so he releases you with a coo just as you inhale sharply as you reach the peak, “too tight this time?”

Chuckling as you emphatically shake your head at him but Carpaccio has already made up his mind. Propping himself up on his arms as he continues the steady rhythm you like just so he can look at you already blissed out beneath him. Riding the waves of your first orgasm with sweet babbles of his name, turning your head to the side as your feet plant on the mattress in a meager attempt to meet his thrusts.

You’re so easy, always so eager and pliable for him, you’re perfect. Something to marvel at as he prolongs your pleasure while meandering to his own.

The best thing about your boyfriend’s magic is not only do you experience pain in his place, you get the privilege of sharing in the pleasure you provide him in turn. Heightening your experience and creaming around him near incessantly while his skin only grows tacky with sweat from the effort of movement.

Sharing in the euphoria albeit muted for himself but he enjoys overstimulating you, taking a different sort of sick pleasure in the tears you reward him with.

Pearly and sweet with your face scrunched up at a different sort of sweet sting to revel in. Carpaccio leans down to you, tip of his tongue catching the saline droplet that rolled down your cheek effortlessly, tracing up the track of it before kissing at the corner of your eye.

“Good girl, can you cry more for me?” His voice a bit strained, a touch more gravel to his usually even tone telling of his own crawl to rapture.

You bite your lip as you writhe, trembling thighs wrapping around his waist as you cant your hips to take him deeper. Mewling at the sound of his throaty growl at the feel, lewd squelching sounding more intensely with the adjustment. Fisting the pillow by your head as you arch off the mattress, tears blurring your vision as they well in your lash line, falling quickly as his cockhead nudges into your cervix.

A dull throb of pain emanating from the base of your spine upwards, sending a whole-bodied tremble through you as you choke on a sob. Overwhelmed in the best way, unable to decide on how you want to lay now because of it; finally settling for wrapping your arms around Carpaccio’s neck to keep him close to you.

Reveling in the sound of his pants for breath the closer he draws to his own demise, hisses escaping through clenched teeth as your walls flutter around him again in another orgasm.

He steadily grows desperate, a little more fervor in his pace and the sensual swipe of his tongue against yours the moments he wants to stop marveling at the mess he’s making of you melts into stalled movement for you to swallow the groans you elicit.

“Does this feel good for you?” He questions as his hand slips beneath you to cup the back of your neck, forcing you to focus on him even as his composure wanes.

Your face scrunches in confusion, brows knit with slight concern because he’s never asked that question save for early on in the relationship and sexual exploration. “You can’t feel it?”

“I can,” a quiet reassurance He smiles at that, a softness to his eyes that’s a rarity for many except for yourself. Craning you slightly to meet him for a chaste kiss as his hips buck involuntarily, “but I want to know how you feel.”

“Good,” a sigh of a sound, “always feel good,” fingers sliding along his shoulder and into his own hair. Eyes alight when you watch the small smile on his lips falter and break from a silent groan. Lips agape as his voice catches on a groan.

It’s exciting to watch him begin to crumble, lose composure and get carried away in the carnal desire for release. Tugging at his hair when one hand knots into your own and the other holds fast to your hip in a bruising grip.

Grunting and groaning and managing a broken, “close, so close.”

Sealing his demise by breathing out a breathy “inside ‘cio, please inside,” as your nails rake down his back. Cooing lovingly whenever you don’t feel the sensation along your own back this time, Carpaccio cutting off his own magic so he can indulge in the minute pain of their drag.

Groaning long and low, broken between kisses smattered wherever either of you can reach. Your cheek, his jaw, your throat, the corner of his mouth before you’re joining in sweet rapture.

Your breath and sound stolen as white hot pleasure blinds the both of you momentarily, milking your boyfriend for everything he’s worth as he paints your velvet walls in sticky white.

Collapsing first, limbs limp as you slump into the mattress and release your hold on him. Glistening in a sheen of sweat as your chest heaves in an attempt to return to an even rhythm.

Only to have your progress dashed in the next instance as Carpaccio flips your positions so you’re straddling him now. Still hard cock twitching against your inner thigh as his spend leaks out of you. Reflexively grinding down into him so his the tip runs through your folds with ease from the lubrication. Stalled in place as he finds the knife without looking with perfect ease.

Point of it to your throat, forcing your chin slightly towards so it doesn’t dig into the sensitive flesh. Breathing out slowly as you glance down at him to see him bear that sinister smile and lifeless eyed stare that makes you clench around nothing, loving the sudden shift in his personality, “we’re not done yet.”

#vixen writes #carpaccio luo yang x reader #carpaccio x reader #carpaccio luo yang smut #mashle smut #mashle x reader #mashle x you

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batwritings · 6 months

Text

Sooo this one wasn't a request, but just a silly little thought that came into my head while thinking of the movie Wolf Children. ^^; Enjoy some soft werewolf Ghost!~

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The scent of blood seeping into your nostrils was what ripped you from a dead sleep. Not the weight on your stomach nor the aching of your body kept you from rest these days. Yet the freshness of the smell and how abruptly it entered your senses was an immense concern.

Your hand shot in front of you, searching for the mass that was meant to be on that part of your shared bed. Your heart sank even further when you frantically felt around the cold fabric of the sheet. Where the fuck was Simon?

You were quick to reach to your bedside for the handgun on your nightstand. You were never super keen on guns, but Ghost had been adamant about you keep some form of physical security on your person when he couldn't be there. You remember the intensity in his chocolate eyes as he taught you how to care for your weapon. Loading, reloading, cleaning, taking apart, and putting back together. You knew this little hunk of mechanisms and metal better than the back of your hand.

Gun in hand, you crept downstairs, a little more difficult now that you were eating for two. You kept your eyes trained forward, your gun pointed at the ground. That had always been your first rule; never aim unless you know who you're aiming at.

The black mass in your living room caught your eye, making you raise the weapon and click on the flashlight attached to it. "Hey!" You shouted, drawing the attention of the entity. A familiar beastly structure and a scarred muzzle made you blink in confusion as the creature turned towards you. "Simon?"

Sure enough, there was your werewolf of a partner, his fuzzy brown ears flattening to his head when he realized you were awake. The man lowered on his haunches and sunk so you could be more level with him as you approached, flicking on the lights as you went. He was refusing to make eye contact, usually a sign of apology. You though it might've been for waking you, before something else caught your eye.

The source of blood became glaringly evident immediately; a rather large pheasant was dripping blood down on your white tile as it hung in Ghost's maw. "Fucking hell Si," you groaned, setting your weapon down on the coffee table. "Gave me a heart attack when I could smell all this blood."

You gingerly removed the fowl from his gentle hold, shuffling it over to the kitchen to be dealt with later. You came back to the man all but licking his chops of the remaining fluid and viscera. A small flare of annoyance had you crossing your arms.

"And your little hunting trip couldn't wait for morning because...?" you asked. Your cheeks heated up a bit when Ghost's clawed hands cupped your sizeable stomach. You knew he had spoken before about the wolf instincts going hard and him getting the urge to provide for his mate when you'd both found out you were carrying his child. You didn't really know what to expect other than the few times you'd seen him get snippy with Soap or Price when they felt your growing bump.

The chill and moist sensation of Simon's nose against your cheek made you laugh, petting his scarred muzzle. You give his patchy fur a kiss; it was hard to be mad when you knew your werewolf partner had the best of intentions to provide.

"Thanks for looking out for us big guy."

#bat writes #simon ghost riley x reader #cod x reader #cod fluff #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley fluff #simon riley fluff

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cleaverqueer · 1 year

Text

DIY How-To; Aluminum Can Spikes

Preface; This will work with any kind of can as long as its metal. (soda, monster, ect) You can make them in colors depending on which side you trace your stencil on but im gonna teach you how to make them silver

And i cannot stress this enough,

BE CAREFUL WITH THE RAW CUT EDGES OF THE CANS, THEY ARE SHARP ENOUGH TO CUT BADLY

Material needed;

Empty clean aluminum can(s)

Sharp scissors (maybe a stitch ripper for attaching them but scissors work too)

A sharpie or permanent marker

Superglue if you want them perfect

An abundance of patience and caution

1 Gather your aluminum

First step is to turn those cans into flat sheets of metal. Start by making a small cut near the rounded edge of the top or bottom, about this distance

Then cut around the top to connect back where you started and take the ends off.

Next you cut a line straight down the side to interrupt the loop of aluminum.

What I do next is kinda just flatten it the best I can? Press it against a flat surface, make tiny bends against the curve, just to make it easier to work with, always being careful of the sharp edges

2 Make a stencil

So the general shape youre gonna wanna make it is like this

The big point will be the tip of your spike, and the little nubby ones will hold it on

imo it helps to have an extra can to experiment with what works best for what youre going for, but once you figure it out, have one flat cut out piece to trace for the rest, to make sure they all come out the same!

3 Trace a bunch and cut them out!

Sounds easier than it is. if you work with it, you can get more spikes sometimes by drawing them close together, but then theyre harder to cut out. Again, be careful of edges. If you want silver, trace on the printed on sign so you dont get sharpie on your spike (or dont, mistakes are punk)

4 Roll them up

This takes a little practice, but what you wanna do is roll up the wider end of the triangle, one edge over the other, into a pyramid, forming a spike with the point of the big triangle at the end. (this ones harder to draw)

Sometimes theyll stay curled tight on their own, sometimes they need a little help (superglue) i havent figured out how to make em curl perfect every time yet. You can also fill them with hot glue to make them sturdier ( BEING CAREFUL OF THE SPIKES WHEN THEY HEAT UP FROM THE GLUE) But the good news is your spikes are done!

4 Affixing them to your shit

Once you figure out where you want them, hold the bottom triangles on the first spike up to the spot it goes like you mean to put it in, mark where they touch the fabric, and then take your scissors or stitch ripper and cut four little tears that DO NOT connect at those points.

It should look like this, with the center dot representing where the spike point is centered!

You should also give each spike enough room that the tears dont run into each other. I usually do them one at a time but i dont think it matters.

After the tears are cut, you carefully insert the bottom triangles into the rips

flip it over, and fold the triangles in over themselves like a staple

Repeat until youve added on all your spikes and your piece looks sick as fuck

5 Bonus; patching over the studs

So when you do this, like a staple, theres the little pointy bits sticking in, and if its a wearble item, it'll prick your skin. If youre autistic like me thats a big drawback, but you can remedy this by sewing a patch of a thicker material (i use denim) over the place where these spikes are holding on.

#diy punk #diy how to #diy can spikes #diy #punk

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 2 years

Note

Seen your 1000 celebration congrats! 🎉

Here’s my request:)

Stucky x puls size reader.

Promts: 9,10, 12,13 either 28 or 33 your choice :)

Trope: 3, 11,18

AU. Mob and A/B/O

it’s okay if you can’t do all I just really really love your writing!!

Quick Fixes for PMS

Mob!Stucky x plus size reader

Some days are just worse than others and today is definitely the worst. Or, hormones really are a bitch.

Warnings: all fluff, reader is really emotional and clingy but we love that for her, pms, guys being dumb in a loveable way, implied smut, a lot of crying, some nudity

WC: 1.4k

a/n: Sorry i changed up the request a bit! I needed some fluff in my life, I still hope you enjoy ❤️

Minors DNI

9: “You make me so mad. So fucking mad. But I will never, never leave you. You’re mine and I’m yours. Forever.” 10: “I can’t do this anymore.” 12: “I can’t imagine a life without you.” 13: “D-don’t leave me, you’re my life.” 28: “C’mon, you’ll be less cranky after you’ve had a snack and an orgasm.” 7: Mob

1000 Follower Celebration

Y/N groaned and rolled over, reaching over to the other side of the bed. “Baby?” She murmured, voice still thick with sleep as her eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the cold sheets beside her. A deep chuckle from behind her caused Y/N to turn around once more and force her e/c eyes open.

“Mornin’ doll.” Bucky smirked down at the woman struggling to right herself in the tangled mess of sheets she was currently trapped in. “Where’s Stevie?” “What, am I not good enough for you?” He only got a half-assed glare in return, which admittedly wasn’t very threatening since it came from the plump naked woman still tangled in the expensive Egyptian cotton sheets.

“He had a meeting, remember?” Y/N grunted in reply, her lips falling into an adorable pout. “But that was supposed to be at noon.” She whined, drawing up the sheets to cover her body in some kind of defiance for her other boyfriend having abandoned her. Bucky cooed and sat on the bed beside her, laying his large metal hand on her wide hip. “It’s almost one doll. You’ve slept through the whole morning.”

“No I didn’t.” Bucky sighed, giving her hips a squeeze. “No matter how cute that little pout is-” His other hand came up and cupped her face, his thumb tracing the seam of her mouth. “The clock isn’t wrong. And now I have to go too.” “Nooooo.” Y/N flung herself at her boyfriend, burying herself in his strong chest as her fingers gripped his incredibly expensive plaid suit, rumpling the fabric.

“D-don’t leave me, you’re my life.” He felt her chest heave with sobs as she clung to the mob boss, her tears soaking into his black undershirt. He wrapped his muscular arms around her heavy frame to hold the young woman close. “Oh dragă, you’re pms-ing real bad huh?” Suddenly her weight against his chest was gone. Her previous tears were now replaced by a deep glare that sent a shiver of fear down the mobster’s spine.

“I am not pms-ing, James.” She snarled, shoving him away from her and attempting to scramble to the other side of the massive bed. But Bucky held firm, keeping a large ringed and wrapped around her plush bicep as she tried to yank it away. “I can’t do this anymore.” Y/N huffed, leaning her entire weight forward, trying to get the man to release her.

“Do what anymore doll?” With one swift pull of her arm, the smaller woman collided into his chest once more. His metal limb curled around her thick waist to cup her large stomach. Her face was turned away from him in a pitiful act of defiance that made his chest burn with affection. “You’re being mean.”

Bucky cooed, nuzzling his nose onto the top of her head, leaving a little peck there. “‘M sorry doll, I just think you’re so cute when you’re tired and I shouldn’t have assumed that you were going to get your period soon. I can’t imagine a life without you, I hope you know that.”

She remained quiet for a moment, and then. “You make it really hard to hate you. But not impossible.” And with that, she launched herself to the side and rolled away, dropping off the side of the bed and landing on the carpeted floor with a small grunt.

“Ce am făcut ca sa merit asta.” (What did I do to deserve this?) He groaned to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You ok down there?” Bucky called out, receiving a winded ‘yes’ from his girlfriend. “I have to go now doll, I promise Steve will be back soon and you can bother him.”

Her head popped up. “Are you saying I bother you?” He rolled his eyes. “I love you, I’ll see you later.” And he walked out the door.

——————

There was a brief moment of doubt in her mind as she typed out the 67th text message in five minutes to her blond beau, but it quickly disappeared when she remembered how he abandoned her in bed this morning without a goodbye kiss. Smirking to herself, she hit send on the long winded message talking about how hot Eddie Munson is and then set her phone down on the marble countertop.

“I don’t think it’s a very good idea to be pissing off the most powerful men in the country.” Her bodyguard and old friend, Clint, spoke up from over his cup of black coffee. “‘M not pissing them off.” She sassed, crossing her arms over her heavy chest. “I’m just annoying them a bit for being mean to me.”

His eyebrow raised. “And how exactly did they annoy you, your highness?” Y/N’s face heated in embarrassment and looked away, picking at her bowl of fruit, not responding. Clint groaned. “Don’t tell me that they didn’t give you enough attention this morning, what a travesty!” “It is a travesty!” She insisted, pulling Steve’s hoodie tighter around her body and burying her nose in the soft fabric.

“Then why are you wearing Steve’s clothes if they upset you so much?” He pointed out, gesturing towards the overly large dark purple tracksuit she was wearing with ‘Rogers’ written across the back. “And don’t you dare say it’s laundry day, I know for a fact that Sunday is laundry day because I’m the one that does it.”

“My period is in a few days and I want attention.” She muttered shamefully, curling in on herself as best she could on the small barstool she was sitting on. Clint sighed, putting his mug down and slipping from his own stool. He placed a warm hand on her back, gently rubbing her shoulder blade. “You want me to go out and get you some chocolate, kid?”

“Yes please.” “Finish your breakfast while I’m gone, I don’t need your two little boyfriends busting my balls because you haven’t eaten.” Clapping her on the back, Clint scooped up the keys to his BMW, leaving her alone in the massive kitchen. Y/N happily wiggled in the seat, popping a strawberry in her mouth.

Then, she looked down. And right there, at the bottom of her phone screen: read 2:43 pm. Her eyes widened in terror as she heard the thundering footsteps that could only belong to one man. She received confirmation a few seconds later when the giant stepped into the massive doorway.

His blond hair was slicked back, dark brown beard perfectly styled, and expensive navy suit with not a wrinkle in sight. But those bright blue eyes were wild, highlighted by the slight pink blush of his cheeks. “Oh so now you’ve got nothing to say?” He rumbled, his chest expanding with a deep inhale that caused Y/N to clamp her plump thighs together.

“Answer me, sweetheart.” It took him only two strides to reach her from across the room. His arms caged her against the counter as he towered over her, making her feel incredibly small under his gaze. She remained silent though, too focused on the way the buttons of his shirt strained against the huge muscles of his pecs, giving her a small glimpse of his dark chest hair beneath.

Steve sighed as he watched her zone out, her e/c eyes going hazy with her little daydreams. “Y/N.” He said firmly, breaking her out of her thoughts but he quickly began to panic when a tear dripped down her full cheek. “I’m s-sorry, I just was ma-ad and missed y-you.” She sniffled and reached up to wrap her arms around his thick neck.

“Oh sweetheart it’s ok, I just don’t exactly enjoy you talking about other men you find attractive but I know it must’ve been tough being alone this morning considering how tired you were.” A big thumb wiped away the small trail of tears as his other hand settled on her hip, giving it a quick squeeze. Y/N melted at the softness of his tone. “S-so you’re not mad?”

The mob boss chuckled. “You make me so mad. So fucking mad. But I will never, never leave you. You’re mine and I’m yours. Forever. No matter what. And I know you’re hurting so how about we spend the afternoon together.” She nodded and smiled up at him, still sniffling, her sobs tapering off. In a swift move, Steve bent over and pressed his broad shoulder into her large tummy and hoisted her over his shoulder. Y/N giggled against his back, her fingers hooked onto his black belt to keep herself steady. With his other hand, Steve picked up her abandoned bowl and turned to leave the kitchen. “C’mon, you’ll be less cranky after you’ve had a snack and an orgasm.”

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