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syefiles · 4 months ago

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𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: sylus : midnight stealth, but what should've happened. 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: really sadistic sylus. not accurate scene (rewritten some parts) fingering, the reader is seen as a female and has a pussy, dom! sylus, kissing. lmk if i missed anything. 𝐚/𝐧: requests/suggestions open in my ask-box [] hiyaa ! i missed writing on here. lately sylus has had me in a choke hold T_T here's me coping with my obsession with a new fic. thank you, and enjoy :)

You were home alone with the bird twins, Sylus' most important and capable helpers whose posts are his house. You were almost going to shake your head to get more ideas on how to invade the vampire and get the brooch.

It wasn't fair. A ruler of a nation against a pitiful hunter who just happened to waltz straight into his own personal hell. "Stop worrying your pretty little head. Boss might be scary and sophisticated, but if you play your cards right, you can achieve your goal." Luke spoke from the dinner table, while Kieran was sat on it. "But then again, you only have an hour left in your deal. Make it count."

You sat up from the couch, finally picking yourself up with enough confidence to face the final boss. Luke and Kieran put up two signs, one with tiger claws and another with a peace sign. "Good luck, you stray." Kieran remarks.

The moon was beautiful. Although the sun never shined in this dimension, it was still a sight for sore eyes. You approach the heavy door decorated with expensive vintage handles, that might cost a few thousand back at home.

You tightly grip the evol-sealing handcuffs and a tranquilizer gun, giving yourself a few imaginary pats on the back. You open the door, seeing the smoke-headed crow resting on his headboard, as vulnerable as a dove. His breathing was steady, hands remained warm atop his covers. He could've just asked me to tuck him in.

You approach his figure quietly, as if cautious of a landmine on the wooden floors. Your leg climbs on his mattress, sitting down gently. Your mouth whispers his name, "Sylus, Sylus?" When you saw his chest still remained steady, you successfully cuffed his heavy hand on his headboard.

"This is what you get for toying with me." You muttered under your breath and the same volume you did when you whispered his name. You set the gun down, while you inspect his red and black robe, He must have hidden it here.

Your hands barely touched the fabric, his free hand successfully trapping your wrist. His eyes furrow, failing to recognize your features at first. You stare at his face in shock, like a cat trapped in a glass box.

"Showing up uninvited at this hour, want me to tell you a bedtime story?" He asks, clearly sarcastic and angry. Your shocked expression drops, "Actually..." Your two hands cage him in, closing the space between you. You could see his face so distinctly from here.

"You should be able to figure out what's going on here." His eyes stare at you, almost burning holes into yours. "These handcuffs have you helpless. No matter how powerful you are, you can't do anything for an hour." You taunt, successfully catching your hunt.

"Really? What do you intend to do now that I've become your prey?" He asks, intrigued. Your right hand detaches from the plush of his headboard, putting out your hand. "Where's the brooch?"

He smirks, "Help yourself." fully offering his semi-naked body to you. While patting down his sides and pockets, you list all of the things he had done to you once you stepped foot into the N109 Zone. "No ordinary person would do that. So..." Your hands stopped their advancements, completely staring at him now, he stares back.

"Don't tell me you're doing all of this because you like me."

Sylus laughs at your misunderstanding. He did all of this for his own benefit, he only desired to resonate with you and nothing else. Yet, fate chose the hard path for you two. "Clearly, you read too many fairy tales." You ignored his words and resumed back to searching.

Your hands search under the collar of his robe, "Does my answer really matter to you?" He asked. "That doesn't matter now. I won!" You exclaim, using your thumb to flip the coin up into the air, and catching it with your hand.

Sylus let a few moments of silence pass, trying to savor what little feeling of triumph you have left. "Don't tell me..." Your expression changes into a frown, "I won't go back on what I promised you." Sylus sits up, his back no longer leaning on the bed. "This was quite the thrilling experience for you huh, sweetie?" His evol submerged the metal of the handcuffs, causing it to deteriorate.

Your eyes widen, and you quickly try to get up from the bed, but he flips you over by your thighs, completely laid down. You try to retaliate with your hand, but he catches it almost immediately with his. "You're pretty good at running away."

He takes the gun by your side and inspects it himself. "You were gonna use this on me?" He almost laughs, staring at your shocked and vulnerable expression. "Yes, just like that." He says, aligning the gun on your cheek, running it down and up your soft skin. "You're so beautiful when your face contorts in fear, kitty."

He lets out a low laugh. "And disobedient kittens get punished," He lightly slaps the gun on your cheek. He traces it down to your chin, lifting it up to level his eyes with yours. "I-I won fair and square!" You respond, only receiving a heavier slap with the gun on your cheek.

"Bad girls don't talk back." His left eye glows but quickly settles down once your hands reach into his robe, feeling his hard abs and warm skin. Sylus raises an eyebrow, curious at your moves. You slip one side of his robe off, exposing his neck. You grab onto his shoulders, licking and nipping at his neck.

He lets out a groan, while a hand slips up from your inner thighs and into your panties. They're soaked, he thought. A finger hooks on your panties, sliding them to the side, his middle and ring fingers toying with your clit, rubbing circular motions on it. Your tongue slows down, letting out exasperated moans here and there. "Sylus-"

His hand slaps your clit, making you jolt in response. "Try that again, sweetheart." He stops his fingers from moving, waiting for your reply. "Sir..." You mutter, two fingers entering you. Your arms shake on his shoulders from his lengthy fingers bullying themselves into your sopping cunny.

"Good-fucking-girl." Each word came with a curl and a thrust from his fingers, making you go ballistic. He was nimble and skilled with his hand, while two were inside, his thumb was working magic on your puffy clit. Your mouth didn't stop leaving love bites all over his neck, while he kisses all over your boobs and collarbones.

"Such a pretty face." He says, admiring your sweat and small tears collecting at your waterline. You let out small moans and whimpers from the pace his fingers were jolting in and out inside of you. "Gonna cum for me?"

He asks, your cunt pulsates around his fingers and they grow tighter each curl at your g-spot. "Mmhm-mhp!" Your hand covers your mouth, cautious of all of the noise you're making. Sylus' head lowers, "Come on, be loud for me, darling." he whispers in your ear, his hot breath tickling the shell of your ear, that action alone was enough to send you over the edge.

"S-Sir, 'm cumming- oh fuck!" You exclaim, finally letting go of your hand on your mouth, Sylus quickly kisses you while you make a mess of his fingers. He didn't slow down, letting you ride out your orgasm.

He pulls away, a string of saliva connecting you two. You lay there, disheveled. "Look so pretty f'me, hm?" He grabs a towel from beside the bed and wipes off the residue and your essence. Your eyes close, you were too tired to even process anything at this point.

Sylus sets down the towel and grabs the blanket, wrapping you two in it, spooning you from behind. "B-but Sylus, what about you?" He smirks, grateful you asked him that question.

"You can pay me back at the banquet tomorrow."

©syefiles 7/19/2024 - do not copy, translate, modify my works.

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houserautha · 7 months ago

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These Destined Ends

Part 7

Summary: Jessica fulfilled the wishes of the Bene Gesserits to produce a daughter. You’re now burdened with the task of not only marrying the na-Baron, but also bearing his child — the Kwisatz Haderach. Will you take your fate into your own hands? Or will it always belong to those who control you?

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings: depictions of killing/death, a blood oath, oral sex f receiving, fingering, edging, dirty talk, p in v, no protection, breeding/pregnancy kink, creampie kind of

A/N: I hear wedding bells🎉 This took me a hot second to write up and edit, but it's also a little bit longer than I usually post. I hope you enjoy💕

Sleep evades you. The day of your wedding slips in uninvited, a wash of sunlight to chase away the shadows from your room. The bed is empty. Feyd-Rautha hasn’t returned or, at least, hasn’t visited you since.

You convince yourself that you don’t care.

But still your thoughts stray traitorously to him — where he is, what he’s doing, what he’s thinking and if it’s of you.

You stare out at the Grand Arena. It’s more or less attached to the Harkonnen fortress and, to your understanding, typically reserved for political rallies. It’s the only place large enough to host a wedding where the entire planet is invited, though, plus the added benefits of its close proximity.

A platform has been erected and already citizens are filing into their stadium-style seats despite the early hour. They will wait all day to sit front row at the marriage between House Atreides and House Harkonnen. A historic event, you realize with detached clarity. To be remembered for generations to come.

This does nothing to quell your roiling stomach.

You turn at the sound of your bedroom doors opening, hope lifting stupidly in your chest. Because it is not Feyd-Rautha who enters, but Lady Jessica.

She looks more radiant than ever, though you suspect this partially has to do with the time apart that you’ve spent.

“Mother?”

Perhaps your lack of rest has warped your vision.

Jessica smiles softly, confirming both your deepest fear and most shameful want. “Daughter.”

For the first time in your life, you run to her. She embraces you, cradling your face into her neck. She smells like home and the memory of Caladan has you blinking back tears. “Why are you here?”

“Did you really think we would miss your wedding?” Jessica brushes your hair back. “They are treating you well? You haven’t responded to any of our correspondences.”

“They are treating me well,” you tell her. You can’t help but think of Feyd-Rautha’s lips on your skin, between your legs, but quickly dismiss it. “And I haven’t received any correspondences.”

“Mm, as I suspected. Your father thought that you might be too busy to write but I knew better.”

“He’s here, too?”

“Of course.” Your mother presses something cold and metallic into your palm, curls your fingers around it. “I wanted to give you this.”

You frown. After closer inspection, you realize that it’s a necklace. Simple, elegant, with a thin silver chain and delicate pendant. “What is this?”

“I wore it when I first met your father. Although we are not married, our relationship has obviously grown past that of an arranged partnership. I can only hope you find similar happiness.” She pauses then, examining you. “I know you are aware that your birth was…orchestrated. But that does not change our love for you. You are our greatest treasure, Y/N.”

Your mood falters, slipping from between your fingers and shattering on the ground like glass. “This is a fertility necklace.”

“Yes,” Jessica says, dipping her chin.

You have the overwhelming sense to grind the necklace under your heel. The tears in your eyes now belong there for an entirely different reason.

“I thought you came here today to support me but instead you’re just carrying out your Bene Gesserit schemes,” you hiss. A dry laugh rattles in your throat. “I’m such a fool! You don’t care for me. You only care about what I can provide. My whole life, everything has been for them. Everything.”

Jessica’s jaw clenches. “That’s not true.”

Aggravated, you spin on her, teeth bared. “Then tell me you came here today of your volition.”

Jessica holds your gaze but does not reply.

“I knew it,” you all but snarl at her.

“I thought these past few months would’ve opened your eyes to your potential, the importance of your duty,” Jessica snarls back, matching your viciousness. “But still you are blind to the truth. You blatantly refuse to accept a plan that has been in effect for centuries. Ten thousand years of deliberate planning and you act as if you are here as punishment. You are living proof of the Bene Gesserit’s power, Y/N.”

Chest heaving, you shutter your raging emotions. “Leave me.”

“That’s no way to speak to your mother.”

“I speak to you not as a daughter,” you retort, “but as the na-Baroness of House Harkonnen. And seeing that you are nothing but a concubine to the Duke, I demand that you leave.”

You know that with The Voice, Jessica could force you to bend to her will, to do any inexplicable amount of things. But she does not. She stands there, wavering, before striding back from which she came from without another word.

You hide the fertility necklace in the pot of a synthetic plant, and no one is the wiser when they come to prepare you. For the servants this is a joyous occasion and you do not want to dampen their enthusiasm. You mask your growing unease, laughing and joking with the girls as they recreate you into the image of na-Baroness.

“You look stunning,” Asha tells you privately. There’s quite some time before the ceremony starts, and she’s pulled you into a quiet corner of the room. “The na-Baron isn’t going to know what to do with himself.”

Oh, you very much doubt that. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.

Your wedding dress is a subtle combination of both Atreides and Harkonnen culture, a blend of elegance and functionality.

The dress itself is made from a lightweight, flexible material that mimics the look of metallic plates. Featuring overlapping panels that creates a segmented, scale-like effect, the bodice gives the illusion of Harkonnen armor. But the skirt, full and flowing, is entirely Atreides — layers of fabric cascading to the floor. Small, metallic accents line the hem that shimmer with your every step.

And, completing the look, a headpiece that forms a sort of M over your forehead and down your cheeks, adorn with jewels.

You bite down on the inside of your cheek. “Have you seen him today? The na-Baron.”

“No, I haven’t. Why?”

“No reason.”

Asha’s mouth quirks teasingly. “Are you nervous?”

“No,” you say, too quickly, “well, yes. But not because of him, because of the ceremony. This will be my first time in front of Giedi Prime.”

“They will adore you,” Asha says. She waves a hand flippantly. “And if not, then your husband will have their heads.”

You grin. “I suppose that’s comforting.”

“Of course it is.” She squeezes your hand.

Your moment with Asha passes as you’re both pulled back into the revelries — spice-laden champagne, food that looks suspiciously like harvested organs, and the pounding, ear-splitting music that’s popular among the Harkonnens. By the time you’re called for the ceremony, your mood has lifted significantly, almost enough to make you forget that you’re the reason for celebration. It’s a sobering reminder.

Your heart threatens to burst from your chest. From inside the walls of the fortress, the roar of the crowd crests and falls like a tidal wave sent to sweep you away. The corridor is alive with mumbled conversation. A procession will precede you to the altar — noblemen and the likes, your parents, who you avoid — along with your betrothed, who is nowhere in sight. The gathered members of your bridal party shift and part, panic seizing you with white-knuckled fingers as the Baron maneuvers toward you.

He greets you with a saying repeated to you many times that day, one that after several iterations you’ve come to understand means, “May your death be swift in battle”.

How it relates to marriage, you are too nervous to inquire about.

“What a wonderful day,” he muses in a rasping lilt. “It would be a pity for someone to ruin it.”

“Indeed,” you reply, eyes narrowing.

“You understand the importance of the ceremony, don’t you?” You don’t respond, sensing that he will tell you nevertheless. “This is just one more step for Feyd-Rautha toward taking my place as Baron. How the ceremony goes will influence his standing with his people.”

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes. Of course this was just another political move. What did he think you would do, riot in the middle of the ceremony? You retort, “I understand.”

“Welcome to the family, Y/N.”

The chill that brushes down your spine, seeping into your bones, is deterred by the sudden clash of a gong. War drums erupt in tumultuous exalt. The very sound of them resonates deep within you, invoking a primal response of adrenaline, as if your body is preparing you for battle.

Which, you suppose is fitting.

And who else to be summoned by the promise of war then Feyd-Rautha.

He enters the room as he always does, commanding the attention of everyone in it. The effect is only amplified today, though, in his polished ceremonial armor and resolute intensity, a heady combination of brutality and valiancy.

Gazing at him us purifying fire, searing you from the inside out, and you take your time charting the unholy beauty of his face, gazing back at you with terrifying reverence.

In that moment, you possess no past or future — there is only him. An eternal now.

And then he steps past you and into the black sun, exultant, thrusting the knife above his head.

A championing cheer follows, impossibly louder than the thunder of the drums. Feyd-Rautha lingers and something in your chest expands at the sight of him dwelling in their approval, their admiration, somehow transcendent of any humanity he manages to have.

He truly is a god.

From your secretive position, you peer at him as he strides down the aisle to the platform where the officiant is waiting for him. At the top of the stairs, he turns and faces his people. In an act that surprises you, everyone who isn’t already on their feet rises, and in sync pound their fists to their chests. One two three.

Their utter devotion to him is staggering.

Feyd-Rautha raises his chin, simultaneously moved and expectant of this. He then takes his place at the altar.

Which means it’s your turn.

You loathe having to follow such a devastating display of power and love. There’s no telling how Giedi Prime will react to you, after all, considering that you are technically the enemy. Asha’s words come to you, emboldening you, and you lift your gaze. You will not falter.

A shushed quiet falls over the arena as you stride out, then enormous applause. You can only imagine what you look like to them, your people, but the only one who matters looks upon you with such unwavering devoutness that it nearly brings you to your knees. As you climb the steps to the altar, Feyd-Rautha’s hands clench into fists, a gesture you interpret as a sign of restraint.

Oh, if only he could touch you with those hands.

The officiant, a representative of the Imperium, begins to recite the traditional Harkonnen wedding script. A translator repeats the words to you, but you let the harsh language wash over you as you focus instead on the row of guests at the base of the altar. Your parents — looking fiercely protective, Leto smiling somewhat reluctantly; Jessica maintaining her cool demeanor — the Baron, emotionless, and beside him Rabban.

Did he wish it was him on the stage?

He catches you staring and flashes you a sickening smile. You look pointedly away, a fist forming in your stomach.

The beginning of the ceremony is tediously long and drenched in tradition, most of which you don’t understand even with the translator’s help. Marriage is not generally a romantic affair for Harkonnens, and the proof can be found in their strangely clinical rites. Again it’s impressed upon you that you are preparing for battle, one in which you would reside besides the most fearsome of its participants.

A pause on the officiant’s part draws you back to the present. You know what comes next, and the thought repulses you — Harkonnens of the Imperial House do not get married with the weight of enemies on their shoulders, pursuing a clean slate of sorts. You watch as a row of prisoners are led before the altar, hooded and bound and forced to their knees by a Harkonnen guard. You shiver despite the insurmountable heat.

You are familiar with war, with combat, the knife-thin edge upon which each fight balances. Life or death. But you can hardly stomach the idea of executing a helpless opponent, even if they are an enemy of your House.

Your throat thickens as Feyd-Rautha is bestowed a ceremonial blade.

Each hood of the prisoner is removed except for one, a man at the end who wavers to stay upright. Feyd-Rautha ignores this man, starting at the opposite end. His grin is apparent as he slashes through the throats of the prisoners, the blade his brush and the bodies his canvas, painting them both with ink-colored blood.

When Feyd-Rautha makes it to the still-hooded man, he pauses, shoulders heaving with the exertion of his wicked precision. Rivulets of blood stream down his armor. He says something unintelligible to the man, then removes his hood.

Your blood runs cold as you recognize him.

Ze’ev.

Now that you know who it is, you inspect him closer. There’s hardly any traces of the man you briefly knew. He is emaciated, bones lining his scarred flesh, clearly beaten within an inch of his life. After your encounter with Feyd-Rautha, you know that Harkonnens heal quickly, and the scars on his body indicate to you that he had been torn open again and again.

Feyd-Rautha turns. When he approaches you, his face is full of such naked adoration that it causes you to take a step back. He offers you the bloodied blade.

“For you,” he rasps.

You whisper fiercely, “What are you doing?”

“He is a gift, for you. On the day of our wedding.”

Every fiber of your being is screaming at you to refuse him. But to do so would be to decline your husband, shame him in front of his people — bile rises in your throat as you accept the blade, your fingers wrapping around the handle.

You breeze past him, refusing to meet his eye.

Ze’ev trembles as you advance on him. Though from his delicate condition or fear, you can’t be sure. His lips form a sneer. “You won’t do it.”

“It’s nice to see you, too,” you say dryly. “I thought you were dead.”

“I should be. Your husband certainly brought me to the brink of it and back, telling me that he was saving me. For you.” Ze’ev spits at your feet then, a dark and bloody glob.

On Arrakis, this would’ve been a sign of respect.

But this wasn’t Arrakis.

You raise your arm in an upward swing, then across your body with exuberance, his blood hissing as it splatters the ground. Splatters you.

The crowd applauds your demonstration, and the sound of their approval echoes in your ears as you take the stage once more, the prisoners’ bodies carted away quickly. You feel numb. Bewildered.

But also deliciously righteous.

You face the man who put you in this position, who put the blade in your hand as a gift without considering the consequences. And he smiles because he knows — he knows that you are delighted, that the freckles of drying blood elicit an indisputable, terrifying delirium in you.

He coaxed this from you, what was better left in the dark.

And you don’t know if you should thank him.

The officiant switches to the common tongue. “The time has come to bind these lives together in the sight of their people. As na-Baron and na-Baroness, they pledge their loyalty and protection to one another, their flesh and blood now shared in duty and alliance.”

A second blade is brought out on a satin cushion.

“na-Baron Feyd-Rautha, do you swear to protect and defend na-Baroness Y/N, to uphold her honor and safeguard her well-being, as your duty demands?”

“I swear.”

“na-Baroness Y/N, do you swear to protect and defend na-Baron Feyd-Rautha, to uphold his honor and safeguard his well-being, as your duty demands?”

You dip your chin. “I swear.”

“Then, as symbol of your shared duty and alliance, I ask you to exchange your blood.”

Feyd-Rautha takes the blade and, with surprising gentleness, turns your palm over and kisses it before gliding the tip of the blade over it. Your blood wells, bright red.

You take his own hand — large, scarred and calloused — and repeat the action.

Before he can heal, the officiant wraps a white cloth around your now joined hands, red blood mingling with black.

“You are my body, an extension of myself,” Feyd-Rautha rasps.

You tense. This isn’t part of the ceremony.

Feyd-Rautha, one hand still clasped in yours, uses the other to beat his chest. One two three. You watch as the crowd responds in kind: the same gesture, reverberating throughout Giedi Prime.

It’s incredibly intoxicating, to be the focus of such a powerful gesture. You let it wash over your skin and infiltrate your bloodstream, alter something inside you, rearranging your very cells into what it takes to be a fearless ruler. You would do anything to garner such a response again.

The officiant waits until the last thump can be heard before he declares, “May your bond be as unbreakable as the strongest fortress. United by duty and alliance, I present to you — the na-Baron and na-Baroness!”

Having spent so much time dreading the ceremony, you never stopped to think about what would happen after it. Currently you sit atop the dais in the throne room, accepting an endless line of Harkonnens who want to congratulate you on your feat of an arranged marriage. Your palm that the blade cut stings with every hand you shake.

After what seems like a small eternity, it’s time for you to join the nobles at the reception. Memories of the last time you sat at the table trickle in through your exhaustion — which you promptly shove away.

The feast passes in a blur. You don’t have the appetite for any of it, but hopefully do a convincing job of moving your food around on your plate.

And then: it’s time for your first dance.

Reluctantly you let Feyd-Rautha sweep you into the center of the room, the usual security you feel in his presence succumbing to your own fears. He holds you tight against him. His tone is clipped, political, plush lips on the shell of your ear, “You had never killed before.”

Ah, your first words as husband and wife.

“No I had never killed before,” you snap at him. “Not everyone goes around just slaughtering whoever they feel like.”

Feyd-Rautha is a surprisingly agile dancer, though you figure that it isn’t all that removed from fighting. “I didn’t intend to upset you.”

“Perhaps, but you did.” Your throat thickens. “What I did is irreversible.”

“You told me you wanted him to pay for what he did.”

“I-I did. I just didn’t think —”

“If you let someone who crosses you live, then others will try,” Feyd-Rautha says, incensed. “You must strangle the serpent while it’s a hatchling, for once it grows, it will seek you out while you lay in your bed and slip around your neck.”

You can’t suppress your shudder. What a lovely metaphor. Apparently Giedi Prime has loads of fun phrases alluding to death.

“You could’ve told me,” you mutter in lieu of a response.

“It was a gift.”

You bite down on the inside of your cheek. Was that all it was? Another part of your game?

“Most people give jewelry as gifts,” you retort.

Feyd-Rautha’s lips twitch. “I am not most people.”

“I know.” To prove your point, you coast your fingers over his side where the dagger went in.

He pulls you tighter against him. “I would have you right here in front of everyone if you’d let me.”

You can’t help but smirk. “I know.”

He opens his mouth to continue but he’s interrupted — by Rabban, nonetheless. “na-Baron, I request a dance with my sister in-law.”

Feyd-Rautha’s grip on you tightens. “No.”

“Yes,” you say, loosening his fingers from around your waist. “It won’t be long.”

Feyd-Rautha stares after you unhappily as his brother leads you away. Other couples have now taken to the floor in an elaborate dance that you don’t know. It doesn’t matter anyway, seeing that Rabban just drags you after him for each step.

“I suppose congratulations are in order,” he says finally.

“You suppose?”

“If it was up to me, Feyd-Rautha would be the one extending his congratulations.” Rabban’s small, dark eyes examine you. “Though the Bene Gesserits have chosen well for a Harkonnen bride. You are a formidable force.”

“Thank you,” you reply, sensing more.

“There are…things…in order that will happen because you will not submit to me,” Rabban says.

Your jaw sets. “Like what?”

“You’ve made your choice.” There’s a twinge of pity in his voice. Not for him. For you? “I thought I should forewarn you.”

“Rabban, what are you talking about? You never said anything about —”

“The day of the Crucible. I told you my wishes and you denied me them.”

“You said nothing that would warrant a warning. I thought you just envious of your brother for obtaining something else that you can’t have.”

“Envious? No. More deserving? Perhaps.”

Behind Rabban, a soldier materializes from the crowd. Sardaukar. You stiffen — it hadn’t come to your attention that anyone from the Imperium had attended your wedding.

“Excuse my interruption,” the soldier says. “I wanted to congratulate you on your union on behalf of the Emperor. He extends his deepest apologies that he isn’t t able to be here himself.”

You nod curtly.

The soldier’s gaze slides to Rabban. “May I have a word with you?”

Begrudgingly, Rabban releases you with a final look. You watch his retreating form, mind reeling with confusion. What did the Sardaukar want with Rabban? And why did the soldier look so familiar to you? Idly, you wonder if the violent nature of the Sardaukar soldiers remind you of the Harkonnens.

No, that isn’t it. That soldier had been here before, at the dinner a few weeks before. He had been the one to call the Baron away, you recall. But he had been dressed as a Harkonnen soldier then, not a soldier of the Imperial army.

The revelation creeps over you uneasily.

Before you can give it much thought, however, someone whisks you away into the next dance. A protest forms on your tongue before you realize it’s Asha — cheeks pink and beaming at you.

“Asha!” You can’t help but laugh, partly out of relief. “I thought you were another terrible admirer.”

“I am an admirer,” she says, “though I would hardly consider myself terrible.”

“Terrible for taking so long to get to me.”

“My apologies, but the na-Baroness is in high demand.” You settle into a comfortable rhythm as the music plays and Asha leads you in the unfamiliar dance. After some time, she grows uncharacteristically serious. “I know your feelings for the na-Baron are…complicated…but your ceremony was beautiful.”

You raise a brow. “Really?”

“The way he saluted you…” Asha trails off, waving her hand as if to ward off tears. This reaction spurns your curiosity.

Trying not to sound too interested, you ask, “What does it even mean?”

A slightly dreamy expression crosses Asha’s face. “Generally it’s reserved for military generals as a sign of respect, something that soldiers do to show their loyalty.”

“So when he did it to me…?”

“He was signaling that he sees you as someone superior to himself, someone to respect. That he is your willing soldier.” Asha grins. “Everyone has been talking about it.”

“Oh.” It’s all you can think to say. “Should I have done it back?”

Asha shakes her head. “Definitely not. It would’ve been an insult to him. His judgement. You did the right thing.”

You’re not sure what the right thing was, but you let the subject go. It lingers in your mind, however, to the point that you over-analyze the moment during the ceremony, replaying Feyd-Rautha’s expression as he saluted you.

You want to confront him about it, but apparently your first dance is all you will see of your new husband on the eve of your wedding. Even trying to catch his eye is impossible as you are both continuously pulled in different directions.

“Is this a bad time?”

At first you bristle, afraid that you’ve been caught sneaking away from the festivities. You have no idea of the time but it has to be well into the morning now, and you just wanted a moment to collect your thoughts. The spot you’ve chosen in a darken alcove gave you a perfect vantage point of Feyd-Rautha, infuriatingly charming as he speaks to a pair of nobles out of earshot.

You tear your gaze from him.

“Father!” You run into the arms of Leto, Duke of Arrakis, who ambles down the hall to you. It’s reflective of your greeting with Jessica this morning, but he inspires only warmth and fond memories. The brush of his beard across your cheek fills you with longing. “Oh, how I’ve missed you.”

“I apologize for not going this morning to visit you. Your mother insisted she go alone.” A frown tugs on his handsome features but disappears as quick as it appeared. “You look breathtaking.”

“Thank you,” you sigh. It’s as if you are a child again, the light of your father’s attention basking you in a sunny glow.

“I…” Leto pauses, deliberates. Your father is usually not someone to be lost for words. “I wish I had done something to prevent this.”

You touch his arm. “It’s not your fault.”

“I blame myself, it’s true. What kind of father willingly hands his daughter over to that…monster?”

“You had no choice. Neither of us did.”

“Listen, Y/N, your mother regrets how your conversation went this morning. She has only wanted the best for you,” he adds softly.

His words prick at you, and suddenly the warmth of his light diminishes. “We both know that’s not true.”

“Her intentions can be…muddled by her Bene Gesserit training. But that doesn’t change the love she feels for you.”

“Her love.” You chuckle bitterly. “All that she loves is what others can do to forward the Bene Gesserit agenda. You. Me. Don’t you realize?”

Leto’s expression softens. “Just come with me. She’s waiting for us. She wants to try again.”

Anger seizes you with white-knuckles and stifling heat, blooming in your chest. “I’ve given her too many opportunities to make things right. You just told me that you wish you could’ve prevented this. She could’ve prevented this. I do not wish to speak another word to someone who has orchestrated my entire life since conception.”

Perhaps you can blame the time that you’ve spent apart, the exhaustive events the day has presented you, but there is a side to Leto that you have forgotten — his frightening, unwavering loyalty to Jessica. A loyalty that not even you, his daughter, can temper.

His voice is that of a diplomat, detached and commanding as he says, “You will not speak of your mother in such a way.”

You’re not sure what you were expecting, but jumping to the defense of your mother cuts you deeper than any knife can. You swallow your disappointment.

“You’re fooled by her just like everyone else.”

Leto’s mouth tightens into an angry slash. “You are not the daughter I remember.”

“No.” You tilt your chin. “She is gone.”

“Then I have no business with you.”

Your tongue rolls in your cheek, over your teeth, carefully selecting your next words. “So be it. I won’t inconvenience you with my company.”

You can’t stand to witness his expression, or let him see the grimace of pain that graces yours, so you turn from him before either happens. You go, not back towards the party, but away — you can’t be here any longer. It feels as if your bones are trying to flee from your skeleton, your skin suddenly stretched too tightly.

Truthfully you have no destination in mind but your feet carry you to the one place that you know will guarantee silence.

Feyd-Rautha’s strategy room.

In the dark your fingers find the seam of the door and you ease it open, slinking inside. For the first time since this morning, you’re alone, and there’s no auditory assault of voices or music.

Back against the wall, you slide down to the ground and pull your knees to your chest. You will tears to your eyes but there are none to summon, lost to the icy numbness claiming you. Any other feeling is cast adrift.

Could it have only been three months ago that you were on Arrakis, sparring with Gurney?

You no longer recognize yourself.

The closest identifying factor is when the door open and Feyd-Rautha appears. There’s a resemblance there, a call of darkness in him that something within you answers. Your mouth twists in distaste. How did he find you?

“Go away.”

“No.”

“I don’t want you here.”

“I don’t care. This is my strategy room, and I can come and go as I please.” Cast in shadows, you can barely make out his face, but the scorch of his gaze is telling of his scrutiny. “Get up off the floor.”

“No.”

“Get up or I’ll make you.”

You weigh his words. Then you reluctantly rise to your feet, unable to look at him.

“This…attitude is unbecoming of you.”

“You’re a prick,” you fire back.

“A na-Baroness, brooding alone — and on the floor, nonetheless, like a common stray. I won’t tolerate this kind of behavior.”

“Or what?”

A muscle feathers in his jaw. “I will have to remind you who you are.”

Heat flickers in your belly, a weak flame. “And what is that? A whore, a womb? I am nothing but what others have made me to be.”

Feyd-Rautha laughs.

He actually laughs.

The sound of which is so unnatural, so unnerving, that your muscles tense like they’re anticipating a fight. You flush with shame — anger — and raise your hand to strike him but Feyd-Rautha catches your wrist. His words lilt with ill-timed amusement.

“Surely you don’t believe that.”

You struggle to wrest yourself from his grasp, but the effort is futile. “Let go of me.”

“No. Never.”

Feyd-Rautha’s lips crash into yours. He steers your back to the wall, colliding with your spine. He swallows your cry of pain with his mouth, slanting it over yours, hands bracketing either side of your face. His fingers delve into your hair, pads of his thumbs pressing against your cheeks. The weak flame inside you ignites into a raging inferno.

He kisses you with a fierce, concentrated energy, as if his sole purpose is to bruise your mouth with his own. His tongue flickers across your bottom lip, behind your teeth. You moan at the same time Feyd-Rautha chooses to coast his hands down your sides and your head lolls back, neck bared.

He grabs onto you as his mouth flies to your exposed throat, hands greedily clutching at your waist. Feyd-Rautha presses a series of kisses that turn swiftly into nibbles, bites. He sucks and licks at your neck, no doubt creating a necklace of love marks, eagerly staking his claim on the sensitive skin. Each bite and lick winds you closer and closer to an orgasm, the idea of his lips marking you wickedly delightful.

Feyd-Rautha moves his hands to your ass, to the underside of your thighs, and hikes you up. Without thinking, you lock your legs around him. The action brings his hardened length nudging against your center and you whimper, grinding into him, desperate for friction.

“I want you so fucking bad,” you pant. “Please.”

He hums against your neck. “What did you say you were — a whore?” His hips roll with yours, the memory of him inside you inciting a moan from your lips. “The na-Baron doesn’t bother fucking whores.”

“Please,” you say again.

In response, Feyd-Rautha bites down on the juncture of your neck and shoulder. You wince even as pleasure floods over you. “Beg all you want but I won’t fuck a whore.”

You fail to conjure a response as he pins you to the wall with his hips, your arms thrown around his neck, and effectively loosens his hands in order to hoist your dress up. Your flesh pimples as it’s exposed to the cool air of the strategy room.

Feyd-Rautha’s hands skim over you, brush over your center. You whimper, “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to tell me who you are,” he rasps.

Feyd-Rautha teases your clit through your panties, drawing lazy circles with his fingers. You buck your hips in an effort to gain reprieve but he denies you this.

Your voice pitches nearly into a whine. “I-I don’t know.”

And you don’t — not after the sequence of your day, not with Feyd-Rautha unraveling you with his his hands and his mouth. You are infinitesimal, insignificant, clay waiting to be shaped in his capable touch.

“Then I will remind you,” Feyd-Rautha says. He pushes your panties to the side, ghosting his digits over your entrance so that you writhe in desperation. “You are my wife, the na-Baroness of the House Harkonnen. You will raze cities to the ground and bring men to their knees. I will fuck you often and fill you with my seed, keep you pregnant so that you bear my children. You are not nothing, you are magnificent.”

His words are punctuated by his short, breathy pants, fingers pressing to your cunt without giving you any of the pleasure that you seek.

“Now — tell me who you are.”

“I-I am the na-Baroness. I am your wife.”

A wail looses from you as Feyd-Rautha plunges his fingers inside you, relieved from your aching by his careful ministrations. Each pump of his hand brings his palm to your sex, quick and authoritative. A hand that had killed six men today, saluted you, bled with you, and the severity of the situation has your walls clenching around him — he is Feyd-Rautha, and he is fucking you with his fingers, littering your body with bites and kisses and mumbled, appreciative praises.

It’s not surprising that this drives you to orgasm with record speed, to alleviating the pressure building between your legs —

Feyd-Rautha removes his fingers, depriving you of your release. You almost howl in frustration.

“Close,” he says. “But I’m not convinced.”

“No, please —”

“You can cum once you’ve convinced me that you remember who you are. Until then — your pleasure will be withheld.”

Again, he punishes you with his fingers, splitting you open as he inserts them. Your back bows.

“Now,” he pants, “tell. Me. Again.”

“I am the na-Baroness. I am your wife,” you repeat, mustering as much conviction as you can. You would tell him anything if it meant cumming on his fingers.

Harder, faster, wrist snapping: “And?”

“And…I am magnificent.”

Feyd-Rautha’s satisfaction is evident even in the dark, judging only by the pulse of his fingers, the breathy laugh fanning into your neck. He removes his fingers again, though, to your chagrin, trading positions for one that allows him to see your face. “Oh, you are,” he purrs. “And I bet you taste even better.”

You hitch your legs around his shoulders at his prompting. Feyd-Rautha sinking to his knees while applying enough weight to keep you trapped against the wall. You suppress another whimper. Your thighs are nearly flush with your chest as Feyd-Rautha dips his head to greet your cunt, driving you higher up the wall and forcing you to grab onto his armor for support.

You can’t see him with the skirt of your dress in the way, but you feel his mouth hovering your entrance.

Feyd-Rautha presses a kiss to you. He flicks his tongue over your clit, then licks a stripe up your center back to it, lapping eagerly between your thighs. His mouth works in tandem with his tongue, his teeth, treating you to the same nipping and sucking that he administered to your neck. Your hips buck to meet his every stroke.

And then, there it is again, your orgasm fighting for completion, raking claws of molten lava through your belly, your pelvis.

From between your legs, Feyd-Rautha rasps, “Convince me and I’ll let you cum.”

You swallow down a cry of protest. If you don’t get your release, you might actually implode. You do your best to summon his words from before, “I am the na-Baroness. I am your wife. And I am magnificent.”

“And how will I fuck you?”

Your teeth grind as you recall, “Often.”

“Why?”

“To-To keep me pregnant,” you stammer out. You rarely allow yourself to imagine your body in such a state, afraid of what it will invoke, but you do now: belly swollen with Feyd-Rautha’s child, breasts full, a physical manifestation of the vigorous fucking he regularly bestows.

And just like that, like the snapping of a rubberband, he returns his mouth to your cunt and laps at you until you finally, finally, reach your orgasm. Feyd-Rautha holds you steady as the prolonged release cleaves you in half, shuddering against his mouth, your vision swimming with stars. Tears wet your cheeks with your relief.

You sag into him, and he effortlessly lifts you back to your feet, still trapping you to the wall, one hand lazily skimming your hip.

“Do not, ever again, think so lowly of yourself. Do you understand?”

Your head bobbles stupidly. “I understand.”

“Good.” He brushes hair back from your face, runs his finger along the scattering of angry welts he’s left on your neck. “Now, my jewel, how do you want me to fuck you?”

You commit him to memory, this renegade angel, a contrast of darkness and your own personal deliverance. “I’ll let you choose.”

Without missing a beat, Feyd-Rautha carries you to the strategy table and lays you flat on your back, maneuvering to grab your ankles, one in each hand and spreading you wide. He takes his straining cock from his pants and strokes it as he admires you. “Mm, my beautiful wife, so eager for me to fuck her.”

He traces your entrance with his fingers, then notches his cock there, sliding the tip of it between your slick folds. You ache to take him but with your ankles in his grip, he keeps you firmly in place. Like a silly, wanton thing, you try desperately to grind against him as he drags himself, up and down, teasing you.

“Please, Feyd,” you beg, “please fuck me.”

“Say it again.”

“Fuck me, Feyd. Please.”

The ridges and crests of the strategy table bite into your back as he drives into you. The ecstasy of finally having him inside you is almost too much to bear — hips snapping, groans rumbling through his chest. He is inspired like this, immersed in the feel of your walls clamping down on his cock, pupils blown, plush lips parted with each panting breath.

If you only you could bottle up this moment, savor the way you both rise to meet the other like waves upon the shores of Caladan.

He pounds into you in a borderline frenzy, each near-violent thrust surging your orgasm higher.

Then Feyd-Rautha releases your ankles, your legs returning around his waist, and he captures your wrists instead, holding them over your head. The angle allows him to press himself to you, spearing you deeper, winding your desire tighter and tighter.

“My wife,” he rasps, “my jewel. Look at me.”

You meet his gaze. Feyd-Rautha smirks, pleased with himself, with you, and thrusts into you with swift finality. Your orgasm peaks and suddenly you’re shuddering and convulsing beneath him, pleasure wrought from every fiber of your being.

Distantly, you feel your cunt draw out Feyd-Rautha’s own orgasm, hips rolling against you as he spills himself inside you. He collapses on top of you, both of you panting, greedily drinking in lungfuls of air. Ostensibly, he recovers first and peels himself from you, tucking his cock back into his pants.

He helps you to your feet and you thank him breathlessly, thighs quivering as you stand, the wrinkled skirt of your dress cascading back to the ground.

“I suppose no one will question whether or not we’ve consummated our marriage,” he says.

Your cheeks burn. “Does it matter?”

“It’s typical for someone to watch to confirm,” he tells you, lifting a shoulder. “I said that it would be obvious enough.”

You gasp and swat his chest. “You didn’t.”

“The alternative was some noble peeking in on our fucking. Would you have preferred that? I do know you like to watch.”

“I suppose I wouldn’t,” you admit.

“Precisely.”

Feyd-Rautha’s eyes flicker over your face, and you can only guess what he sees there — you’re coated in a thin sheen of sweat and, undoubtedly, love marks, hair tangled and headpiece askew.

You shy away from him. “Do we have to go back to the reception?”

“No,” he nearly snorts, affronted that you would even suggest such a thing. “I fully intend on taking you to my bed and fucking you until you’re a mewling, quivering mess.”

Your cunt, still full with his cum, dripping with it down your thighs, clenches in anticipation.

“Then what are we still doing here?”

Part 8

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kiss4noo · 2 months ago

Text

𝓢titched back together ! . ˚ ౨ৎ ⊹

꒰ 🧵 ꒱ ℒee ℋeeseung [희승] : 𝒯wo-shot! (pt. 2) pt. 1 here!

𝓰enre. angst (??), fluffy fluffy fluff! .˚⊹ 𝓹airing. non-idol,,best friend heeseung x fem reader – ex friends w/ benefits 2 lovers trope. ໒꒱ 𝔀arning(s). prepare to see some sickeningly cute content. 𝔀ord 𝓬t. 751

𝓼ynopsis .ᐟ in which you’ve ran but he loves you too much to let you go.

꒰ 💬 ꒱ 𝓶i 𝓷ote. a much asked for part two of “the unravel of his cardigan”. you asked and i am hoping to deliver!

if you enjoyed this fic, please like and reblog! it's always appreciated :)

enjoy, my lovely readers. xoxo, mi. ‹𝟹

weeks have passed by dreadfully slow for lee heeseung and jang y/n, the latter maintaining a gruesome period of no contact. the boy tried dreadfully hard to pry you from the monstrous walls you’d placed up, wanting to have an ounce of understanding as to why you’d shut him out.

yet, you never gave him the light of day. torn between leaving his messages on read and blocking his contact, you’d have to face the reality of his persistent presence anyway. having shared lectures only made your distancing more difficult, heeseung perched beside you as he always was– like you hadn’t walked out on him.

hell-bent on your decision, you tried to validate the reason as to why you’d placed a pause on your friendship: that you were in love and he wasn’t. except, you didn’t know the truth, whether he reciprocated or not; and you needed closure.

to distract you from the weight of your feelings for heeseung, each return to your apartment was welcomed by a gift at your doorstep. whether it be flowers, your usual order from your favorite cafe, or even a plush that reminded the secret admirer of you. silently, you wondered who would have known the information of your apartment, your regular order, and the other favorites– your mind slipping past the idea of him.

one night, settled in your apartment for the rest of the day, you’d received a knock at your door– not expecting a guest nor package. standing in confusion from the warmth of your couch, you’d paused the drama playing on the television to inspect your mysterious visitor. your steps gently pattered against the floor, warning the boy on the opposite side of the door of your impending presence.

unlatching the lock, she pulled open the front door with hesitance, only to meet the gaze of lee heeseung.

with widened eyes, you simply stared in surprise, lips parted and absolutely no words slipping past them. however, he took your pause as an advantage, extending a large bouquet in your direction, a smile gracing his features. once you’d taken the flowers from his grasp, he paused for a moment– wanting you to understand his sudden appearance.

“beautiful girls, all over the world…” he begins, voice soft– his singing reverberating in your chest. stepping closer, he invades your space, hands extending to grasp your waist in a gentle touch.

“i could be chasin’ but my time would be wasted, ‘cause they got nothin’ on you, baby,” he continues, voice raising a degree as he pushes the door shut with a maneuver of his foot. maintaining his hold on you, he guides you backward, further into your home.

“nothin’ on you, baby,” he whispers, brushing his lips against your forehead in an affectionate display of his longing– a sigh escaping you as you melt into him.

“they might say hi, and i might say hey,” he continues, gaze intent as he meets your eyes.

“but you shouldn’t worry about what they say, ‘cause they got nothin on you, baby,” raising a hand, he presses the tip of his index finger against your nose’s tip, earning a giggle from your lips.

“nothin’ on you, baby, mm-mm.” he finishes, heaving a sigh as he presses his forehead to yours. staring up at him, your eyes can’t help but gloss over, the boy warming your heart.

“hee.” you call in a broken voice, his eyes softening at the sight. in an unspoken understanding, he leans down to capture your lips in a gentle and slow kiss, your emotions mingling.

“i’m so sorry.” you sniffle as he retracts from the kiss, his thumb reaching to swipe a stray tear from your cheek. “shh, baby. i know, it’s okay.” heeseung reassures in a low voice, cradling you as if you were the most delicate object he’d ever held.

“i love you, so much.” he begins, his laughter rumbling in his chest at the sight of more tears escaping your eyes from the simple confession. “so stop running.” he firmly mutters, holding your chin between the pad of his thumb and the knuckle of his index finger.

“okay.” you laugh through the stream of tears, nodding your head with the range of motion heeseung had left you. “i won’t run away, not from us. i love you too, so much.” you confess, reaching to cradle his nape.

and despite the distance you’d originally hoped for, the warmth of his arms reassured you that he was yours, and you, his.

ⓘ all content posted to kiss4noo is not to be plagiarized, translated or reposted.

꒰ 📎 ꒱ 𝓽aglist. @greentulip @nshmuras @wonsdoll @pnghoon @pshbites

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sailorholly · 6 months ago

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Between Us Pt. 7

Summary: You and Spencer had a casual relationship. A misunderstanding ruins it all.

Pairing: Spencer Reid × F. BAU Reader

Warnings: Friends with benefits. Angst. Pregnancy. A tiny bit of smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI.

See my Masterlist here

Part Six

Spencer ended things with Ashley. It was a huge fight. She didn’t want him to leave her. She knew it had something to do with you. So she resented you. She would bring the greasiest pizza for lunch for the whole team after you mentioned the smell made you sick.

She would comment about how much weight you were gaining. She made you feel so insecure, it was becoming a problem. Your face was swollen today, you couldn’t do anything with your hair, and you felt too nauseous to do your makeup this morning. You walked in to work, hoping Ashley wouldn’t be there.

“You look awful. Pregnancy doesn’t suit you.” She says the moment she sees you. Your hormones have been all over the place lately. Your first instinct was to grab her by the throat, but then you thought about her words, and all her petty behavior towards you. Tears filled your eyes, streaking down your cheeks.

“Why do you think it’s okay to talk to someone the way you talk to me? I would never say anything like that to you. What’s your problem with me anyways? You have hated me since the day you started here. I haven’t done anything to you.”

The tears keep falling, you can’t help it. She was cruel. “It’s all about you, isn’t it? Reid wouldn’t even look at me because of you. You had him wrapped around your finger, then you blew it! I finally had my chance, but he was still obsessed with you! He wouldn’t sleep with me because of you. He barely kissed me! Then you got pregnant on purpose to trap him.” She walks right up to you, pointing her finger accusing you.

“Ashley, I did not get pregnant on purpose! I had nothing to do with your relationship.” You try to explain, but she interrupts again. “Save it! I don’t believe you. You’ve got him right where you want him now. I just don’t understand why he would want you, when he could have me!” She places her hands on your shoulders, shoving you backwards.

The back of your legs hit a desk. She is still screeching at you when Spencer pulls her away. “Ashley, get off of her! What are you doing? You could hurt her and the baby!” His cheeks go red, dark eyes flashing. You’ve never seen him this angry before. He looks you over, inspecting carefully for any sign of injury. “Are you okay?” You nod, you’re a little shaken up because you didn’t expect her to put her hands on you.

Hotch comes out of his office, his face stern as he calls Ashley to him. Spencer tells him you’re both taking the day off. He agrees, as he shuts the door behind her. Spencer took you to his apartment, where you spent the day watching your favorite movies and cuddling.

You would normally protest the affection, but after the morning you had it was welcome. As the evening approached, Spencer ordered your latest craving, and you watched one of his favorites, some Russian movie with no subtitles. You had watched it three times with him before, so you knew what was going on. You didn’t stop him when he leaned over to whisper the translation in your ear. His hot breath sent goosebumps down your arms.

It was getting late, so you stood up telling Spencer you needed to go home. “You can sleep here. I’ll take the couch.” You think about it, but not for long. You really do want to stay. You were comfy here and it had started storming. Spencer knew you were terrified, that’s probably why he offered. So you accepted, you took a shower while he laid out one of the few t-shirts he owned for you to sleep in.

You tossed and turned, the thunder was so loud it felt like it shook the apartment building. You had tried to sleep, but between the storm and what happened with Ashley, you couldn’t. You were so angry with her for putting her hands on you. She’s lucky you were pregnant and caught off guard. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have a job to go back to tomorrow.

You thought of how Spencer stood up for you. He had never been hotter. This new protective side of him was something else. You feel the familiar ache between your legs. If your hormones weren’t making you cry, they made you horny. You slipped your fingers into your panties, trying to take care of yourself. Three hours could have passed, and you wouldn’t have known. You were getting no where. You were hot, and so desperate for release.

You should have went home, at least you had your vibrator there. You stand in front of Spencer’s sleeping body on the couch, debating on waking him up. You decide to turn around and go back to bed, but he wakes up.

“What’s the matter? Are you okay?” He sits up, wild eyed and panic lacing his voice. “Um, I -I” You stutter, suddenly feeling ashamed. He stands looking you over for visible injuries. “What is it?” He was concerned and probably scared something was wrong with the baby. “Everything is okay - with the baby.” You finally manage.

Spencer rubs the sleep from his eyes. “Something’s wrong with you then?” You put your hands on your hips, his shirt raising on your thighs. His gaze lingers on the newly exposed skin for longer than they should. “It’s embarrassing.” You confess.

“Y/N, you know you can tell me anything.” He grabs your hand, rubbing soothing circles by your thumb. You let out a deep breath. “I’m so horny, I think I might die if I don’t get off. I tried to do something about it myself, but it’s not enough.”

He looks at you, confused. “What do you want me to - oh!” Realization sinks in. He runs a hand through his messy brown curls. “Are you sure?” He asks so softly, you’re not sure if you really heard it. “Yes, I’ve never been more sure of anything. Spencer, I need you.”

Spencer pulls you to him on the couch, your legs spreading on either side of his sitting form. He presses soft kisses to your lips, but you need more. You deepen the kiss, hands traveling down to lift his shirt. He helps you, tossing it over his head, kissing down your neck. His long fingers trail along your torso, toward your breasts. He takes your nipples between his fingers, pinching lightly.

You moan, loving how sensitive they were because of the pregnancy. It makes everything more intense. Spencer gently moves you off him, to a lying position on the couch. He lifts the t-shirt he let you wear over your head, tossing it carelessly to the floor. He looks at you with a softness you've never seen before. Suddenly, you feel very self-conscious.

You try to cover yourself. You weren't thinking about how differently you looked now. Your breasts were swollen, your stomach wasn't close to being a baby bump yet, but you were bloated. Spencer had to notice too. What were you thinking? He was only doing this to fulfill some kind of obligation he felt for you. He knocked you up, so he had to help you out. That's how Spencer was, he would always take care of you. But you couldn't take advantage of him like this.

"Is everything okay?" He asks, noticing the sudden change. "I'm not in the mood anymore, but thanks for helping." You force a small smile, but he notices. He was very observant. That's what made him such a good profiler. "You're soaking wet. Why are you trying to stop this?" He runs a finger down the seam of your panties to prove his point, your arousal soaking through the fabric, wetting his finger.

"I just look so differently than the last time we did this. I get it if you're not attracted to me right now. I just don't want you to be doing this out of pity." You gesture to your exposed body. "I think you're even more beautiful than before. Your body is changing to make a comfortable home for our baby. I'm so lucky I get to have you like this."

Spencer takes a nipple between his lips, large hand dipping under the waistband of your panties. He hooks an impossibly long finger inside you, his thumb swirling soft circles against your clit. Any worries you had about him not being attracted to you, fade as he works you with his fingers. You feel the pressure building low in your stomach as his tongue swipes at your nipples. He was always so talented with his mouth. You shatter around his fingers, as he removes his lips from your breasts. "You did so good for me." He praises, kissing your stomach.

You yawn, the force of the orgasm and all the craziness from today finally allowing you to rest. "You need to rest, come on." Spencer helps you off the couch, leading you to his bed. "But what about you?" You ask, motioning toward his erection. "I'm fine, really. Tonight was all about you." You open your mouth to protest, but another yawn slips out. He tucks you under the blankets, kissing your forehead before walking back to his makeshift bed on the couch.

Tags

@cindylynn @wheredafandomat @loz-3 @megharat-barnes-reid @kats72 @mochie85 @cakesandtom @spenciesprincess @kimm4710 @tmilover1993 @nomajdetective @cynbx @comboboo @134340ona @wannabewolf @weirdothatwritess @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @freegardenbanananeck @lover-of-books-and-tea @maybe-not-this @drewsandsebastianswife @lamentis-10 @lizzyk137 @hypotheticallyspeakingwitch @rosylnsworld @amortencjja @ah-blossom @dreamsarebig @khxna @diasnohibng @nommingonfood @sp3ncelle @pleasantwitchgarden @isakslilsmile @lavvylove @creaming4daddy @justdianaz @aubs444 @im-this-girl @xblueriddlex @spencerreidsgf420 @witchsbitchestime @lovelygirl8 @chonkybonky @prentissesredtanktop @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @ilikw @theoraekenslover

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #between us #spencer reid au #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x fem!readr

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mochatsin · 1 year ago

Text

WHEN MC GETS CAT EARS

When Solomon mistakenly puts cat hair instead of arctic fox fur, you grew cat ears and a tail by accident. As amusing as it is, you have to wait for Solomon to make a cure and it could take a while. How will the brothers handle this when you come home like this?

------------

Lucifer

How could the greatest sorcerer even make simple accidents like this? To think that years of experience would have avoided something like this, but these kinds of errors… well they aren’t that bad when he can benefit from this.

You’re panicking about the sudden cat ears and tail. Yet despite the distress you have given your newfound features, he has this entertained look on his face.

Normally he would sigh and shake his head in disappointment. This usually means that more trouble means more work he needs to deal with, but you don’t see that look on his face. There’s just this devious smirk instead.

“Transfiguration huh… well, that’s what you get for meddling along with the likes of Solomon. I guess it can’t be helped, you’ll have to stay like this for a while until that antidote hm?”

Lucifer already knew that the antidote would be ready the next day but he refused to let Solomon give it to you. Would probably ban him from entering the premises to ‘cause no more accidents.’ For all the trouble this sorcerer has given him, the least he can do was let him savor this.

Anytime he would find himself frustrated at his brothers, he would find you and pet you right behind the ears where it’s best. He would treat you like a therapeutic anti-stress cat. It’s a win for both of you, since you love it when he scratches in just the right places and he adores it when you purr.

Mammon

He found you sneaking back into your room, hoping to go unnoticed but of course Mammon was already waiting by your door with his arms crossed looking very displeased.

He demands your attention after spending the day with Solomon (definitely not because he's jealous or anything) but when he sees your cat ears, he has this confused look on his face.

Raising a brow, he would inch closer to your head for further inspection. “The hell you two doin’ over there? I thought you guys were doing alchemy, so what’s with all this get up? Where’d you even get these cat ears?”

He probably won’t believe that it was real and pulled on the ears. When he gets a reaction from you, he starts blushing madly and quickly pulls his hand away out of pure panic. What do you mean they’re actually part of you?!

He would understand after you explain everything to him, then proceed to yell at Solomon after such a clumsy accident over the phone. But it’s not unwelcomed. He would hesitate at first, since he pulled the ears so hard, but once you let him then trust that this boy will not stop playing with it.

Mammon would steal glances at you often, watching as your ears move around every time you’re happy, flustered, or upset. It makes you more expressive that way and he enjoys seeing all sides of you.

Levi

Levi was excited because he was waiting all day for you to get home so he could talk about the latest episode of the anime he was watching. When he heard that you were home, he ran to your room to catch up to you.

He ends up bumping into you and you both fall. Just as he was about to apologize, he felt something… fuzzy brush up against him. Not only did he fall on top of you, he finds out you have cat ears and a tail too?!

Immediately pushes himself off you, apologizing repeatedly before running away from you at full speed out of embarrassment. It takes a while until he does manage to calm down and after you explain everything, his face would still be beet red.

“Your tail is… really fluffy and soft. Unlike mine that’s all scaly. I… I like it! It reminds me of this cat girl from this anime ‘that time I woke up as a cat girl and now I have to-” and he goes on with the series, forgetting his initial embarrassment.

There was one time that his tail wrapped around yours while you two were gaming together and he only realized when you yelped, feeling it coil around it. You’re still new to the sensation after all so it took you by surprise.

Both of you are now incredibly red, and you had to reassure him that you didn’t mind since you’re not used to these new features. It takes him all the courage to even touch your tail again and he has a nervous smile when you let him. He actually enjoys it, but he won’t admit that (or can’t).

Satan

He was hoping to run into you to ask if you got any notes from Solomon after your little study session. The sorcerer is excellent with magic and hexes after all, maybe he knew a summoning circle that could trap Lucifer in place for hours.

He knocked in your room but there was no answer. It’s odd, since he knows that you’re home judging by the shoes you left at the door. “MC? Are you alright? I want to come in, if that’s okay”

Oh no. despite how dependable Satan was, these animalistic features of yours would surely make him too ecstatic to help. So you hide yourself under the sheets pretending to be asleep.

He entered your room and saw that you were already in bed. It was so early, so he worried you were sick and walked closer to check your temperature only to see a… very fluffy tail peeking out of your blanket. Were you hiding a cat?

“MC… what’s that under your blanket?” you forgot about your long tail and decided to come clean before removing the sheets from you. The gasp he let out before running to your side to further inspect the ears and tail, he had the biggest smile on his face.

Two of the things he loves combined into one, to him this might be the best day of his life. The head pats are endless and after finding out that you purr every time he scratches the back of your ears, he is absolutely loving it. Would probably talk so much about the possible cat species you resemble.

Is probably the most disappointed when the effects wear off. Though Solomon can make an antidote for this right? Maybe if he learns the recipe and gets some cat fur, he could see you with more cat species with no repercussions. After all… accidents do happen.

Asmo

You try so desperately to hide these new features of yours until you get everything sorted out with Solomon. But the hardest part is navigating through RAD with these, so Solomon leant you his hat to at least cover the cat ears.

The door to your room is right there and you thought you were gonna make it, until you heard a familiar voice sing your name “MC~!!” followed by rapid footsteps.

You tried to reach for the knob as fast as you could but Asmo was quick to hug you from behind. You’re now trapped in his arms. “Where have you been all day darling? I’ve been waiting for you all day!”

Unfortunately for you, the hat you were wearing fell off when he hugged you like that and your cat ears immediately popped up. He was silent for a while and stared at them, but then he hugs you tighter while he squeals. You don’t even get to explain yourself.

You never reach your room because he’ll drag you outta there and try out all the cute outfits that would match your feline features. Two hours was spent playing dress up with Asmo. He would probably put a bow on your tail.

Would take so many pictures of you while he has the chance to admire you like this. It’s not everyday his cute human can turn into one with cat ears. Would probably buy a matching headband and take so many selfies of you two together. (Satan would beg Asmo for those pictures of you)

Beel

You were trying to sneak into your room but since you’re so near the kitchen, it was only expected that Beel spots you while he was trying to golf down this entire slab of shadow hog meat.

“MC? You’re home late. How was your study session with Solomon?” He would ask as he walks over. When he does, he is able to see you desperately hiding the cat ears and tail that won’t stop moving around when you see him.

He gives you this confused look at first, struggling to grasp the situation. He assumed it was just an outfit until he saw your ear twitch, and it all clicked. Beel would ask if you’re okay and you explain to him what happened while you worked with Solomon.

He enjoys petting your ears whenever he can, especially when he sees that you’re enjoying it too. But he tries to avoid doing it whenever he eats something, especially some cheese puffs. He doesn’t want any cheese powder or crumbs to get stuck on your… hair? Fur??

He saw one time that while you were sitting on the floor trying to study, one of the brothers accidentally stepped on your tail and you yelped out in pain. You can expect his tall menacing figure standing behind the culprit.

Afterwards he would want to stand next to you, protecting your delicate tail since he doesn't want to see you get hurt. Would be your bodyguard against a very curious Satan who would want to study your feline genes and an eager Asmo who wishes to dress you up.

Belphie

When you were coming home, you spent the entire time trying to avoid the brothers. You thought that maybe you could at least get the night for yourself and wait for the inevitable chaos tomorrow morning as you finally entered the room and locked it.

You sat on the bed, wondering how you’re going to explain this to the brothers. While lost in your thoughts, you feel soft fingers brush up against your tail and you squeak. You jump off your bed only to find the youngest under your blankets.

Of course, Belphie was in your bed waiting for you for your daily naps. He woke up to the sound of you locking your door and he planned to surprise you while he was under the sheets, but he was more shocked to see the tail that was moving back and forth in front of him.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, I guess I couldn’t help it when it moves around like that… Heh, it's really fluffy. It’s kind of like my tail too. Can I touch it?”

He would lie down and gently hold onto your tail. Like a cat on its back playing with yarn. He knows he should be careful since he’s experienced what it’s like to have your tail getting yanked or stepped on.

When you two would sleep together, he loves the feeling of your tail brushing up against leg. To him, it’s equivalent to whenever you stroke his hair and it helps him sleep more.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios

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b4tracha · 1 year ago

Text

Dressing Rooms (S.CB x M! Reader)

Dom! Seo Changbin x Sub!Male! Reader

(Reader will have a penis in this. I hope everyone enjoys and I am sorry for not posting as often. Exams will be over the first full week of December so I will be posting more afterward <3)

You have been an employee of JYP Entertainment for the past year, and it was almost unbelievable how kind everyone is. When you first got into the industry, people would warn you about how the people in different companies would treat staff. However, none of your higher-ups or idols made you feel that way.

Your first group was Itzy, but they decided to switch you to Stray Kids for 5-star and Rock-Star. The members treated you almost like another member in the short time you have known each other. You were also a young man, a mere 00 liner, and trying to work in hard environments.

Since you met the group, they would invite you out and you got especially close to a certain member. Changbin, for once, was taller than someone and he would tease you while making sure you were fine with it. He would cuddle and flirt with you no matter how bashful you got. Honestly, he got worse when you more embarrassed.

Somewhere in September, you both started to hook up. While drunk, he confessed that he realize he liked men a while ago, but was never had the chance to hook up with one. You suggested, just as drunk, that maybe you didn’t mind hooking up with him. It didn’t happen then but once you both were sober, you guys finally became friends with benefits.

You couldn’t hook up as often, but when it did happen..

He always blew your mind.

“Y/N~” A voice whined behind you. It would be Changbin who messed up his outfit about twenty minutes before they went on.

You were trying to make sure their outfits were put on correctly and wouldn’t fall apart on stage. That happened too often because of how energetic they are and you didn’t want it to happen again. You have already fixed Lee Know’s shirt at least twice.

“Yes, hyung?” You turned from your small inspections, nearly running into Changbin. You both were nearly chest to chest with how close you were. “Oh, Binnie-hyung- Sorry, I didn’t know you were right behind me..”

You pulled back and Changbin simply kept smiling at you, shrugging before going back to whining, “There’s something wrong with my pants~” You sighed and went to look before he grabbed your hand and whispered in your ear. “Needs to be in a private room. The noonas shouldn’t see this.”

Of course.

You grabbed your supplies just in case there was a tear or something to patch up and guided the older man to an empty dressing room. He locked the door behind him just incase and you bent over and sat everything down and set everything in their right place.

Suddenly you felt a hand rubbing your ass. You were used to this from Lee Know, so you rolled your eyes and went about your work before you felt his hands grab your waist and brush something hard right on your ass. You froze, trying to figure out what was going on and slowly turned your head.

“Here..?” You whispered. He has always had a thing for trying to hook up in public places. There were time where you both would go out to eat and would suck him off in the bathroom, but it was never at work. Though, you were wearing a plug for later. Changbin suggested to go out after their pre-recording and you didn’t have time to go home, you fingered yourself open just incase he wanted to do something.

“Yeah.. I have too much adrenaline, prince.” You shivered. You loved when he called you that. His cock was only chubbing up more as he grinded against your clothed butt. “I need a release.”

He bent down across your back and whispered once again in your ear, “I can feel the plug inside of you anyways. How about you give Sir what you want?”

You whimpered, hands shaking at the thought. Your head was already spin and you were just being dry humped. “Okay..”

He chuckled and smacked your ass before pulling away. You both knew you didn’t have enough time to do anything special, so you simply unbuttoned your pants and pulled down your pants and boxers. Your small cock was starting to get hard as well as you spit and started to jerk yourself off slowly.

“Good boy.” He hummed before smacking your ass. It wasn’t hard or that loud but the action made you moan. Changbin grabbed your ass aggressively before speading your cheeks apart and looking at the delight that he’s been thinking about almost all day. “Plug looks delicious in your hole, prince. You should wear them more often for me.”

“Yes sir.” The words slipped from your lips easily. It was always easy to submit to Changbin. The male teased your hole, pulling out the plug mid-way before pushing it back inside. You bit your lip aggressively trying not to be too loud. As much as it felt good, you didn’t want to lose your job. Your legs started to shake below you, but he just wrapped his strong arms around you and held you up to take the torture.

“You’re sucking it in like a little slut. You love having something in your hole all the time, hm?” He groaned at the sight. He licked his lips and finally pulled it out. Your ass clenched over nothing, wet and slick for something bigger to fill it. He guided you to a dresser and bent you over. You glanced up at the mirror infront of you, watching the tears in your eyes and hunger in Changbin’s right behind you. “Are you ready?”

“Yes Sir.. I’m ready for you to fuck me..” You whimpered and shook your hips in hopes he would hurry up and get inside of you already. He removed the hair from his eyes and pulled something from his pocket. He showed you in the mirror as if you should know what it was.

You turned and noticed it was lube. Fuck, you were so needy that you forgot you needed that. Even if you used extra earlier, you still needed more right now. He unzipped his pants and pulled them and his boxers down just at his thigh so he wouldn’t get anything on his pants. His cock was standing at attention, rock hard, red, angry and leaking. Changbin opened the bottle of lube and squirted the substance on his fingers before caressing it on his cock.

You took your hands spread yourself apart to help the male behind you and whined at him through the mirror. “Please sir, I need your cock. Breed me?”

Changbin groaned at the words, eyes rolling back. He blinked back before adjust your position and pushing inside slowly. The stretch was slight painful, but it felt so good in a masochistic type of way. The older man sunk inside until his balls touched your thighs, all the way inside. “Fuck you’re tight, prince. Tell me when you’re ready.”

Your eyes were clouded with tears, shaking at the feeling of him splitting you open so good. You didn’t need time to adjust, you needed him to fuck you stupid. “Fuck me. Please, sir..” Your voice shook heavily as the spit in your mouth poured from your mouth down your chin.

The man chuckled and grabbed your hips tightly to the point where you’re probably going to see bruises later and slowly pulled out almost all the way before slamming back inside.

You both moaned out in sync before he started up his rhythm. It was hard and rough, causing your body to jerk each time he pushed back inside. You could only whimper and whine with your teeth biting down into your lip in fear you would scream from the constant thrusts. From the start he was hitting your prostate one thrust after another. It usually took your other hookups a short bit to find yours, but from the first time Changbin found it almost immediately.

“Shit.. you’re clenching all around me. You must want me to cum deep inside you, hm?” His words were like waves, moving in and out of your ears. You could barely understand what he was saying to you. Once you process the words, you immediately whined loudly and nodded quickly. You needed his cum so bad. You wanted it in your stomach so bad..

“Sir.. please..” You whispered hoarsely, hoping Changbin could understand what you were saying to him. Your stomach was starting to tighten hard to the point it almost hurt. You started to reach your peak already. It wasn’t a surprise, he usually pushed you past overstimulation until he would finally cum. It wasn’t uncommon where he would pull two or three orgasms from you before he came himself. “I’m so close.. I need to cum..”

“Already? Of course, that’s so pathetic.” He spit at you, knowing you loved the slight degradation whilst sneaking his hand under you to start jerking you off to help. “Luckily for you, I am close too. I’m going to cum too. Going to breed you, Y/N..”

“Please..” You begged, legs shaking and drooling down your chin and chest until it hit the dresser. He went quiet behind you, trying to focus on his thrusts and hurrying up. You both already took too long and you’d need time to clean up after this. You more than him, however.

He flicked his thumb over your sensitive tip during a certain hard thrust and you jerked under him, feeling that feeling in your stomach suddenly snap. A long, soft moan poured from your lips as you finally came. Your cum filled his hand as your ass clenched around his cock aggressively. The feeling of you squeezing him gave him just the right amount of pleasure to finally flood inside you.

His hips snapped inside of you, cock letting stream after stream leak inside. Deep breaths filled the air from you both. It was hard to catch your breath when everything was still so hot. He grunted at the feeling of his softenign dick still being clenched around. He slowly pulled out and grabbed a cloth and soap that was near one of the sinks and wiped himself down as best as he could. He could hope he was decent enough to be let on stage.

Once he was situated with his pants up and stainless, he wiped you down as well. The plug slipped back inside of you once you were cleaned up enough. He whispered soft praises and kissed behind your ear or your back. Your eyes were unfocused with unshed tears still there. Your legs shook softly as you left your entire body weight on the dresser, letting him do what he needed. He always did well aftercare for you.

Changbin fixed your clothes for you and laid you on the couch. Once your body hit the couch, the feeling of exhaustion rushed in. Your eyes had mini weights as you grabbed a throw pillow to use for your head. You needed a nap, he fucked you so good.

“Hey prince, can you hear me?” You softly looked up at him and nodded with a little smile. “Good. I’m going to leave you here and say you got sick and need to stay away from everyone.”

“Okay..” You whispered and closed your eyes. You were already half asleep. The male above you smiled softly before moving away.. “I love you, hyung..”

His heart skipped a beat at the sleepy confession. “I love you too, prince.”

#stray kids #skz #stray kids x male reader #bang chan #lee know #changbin #hyunjin #han jisung #lee felix #kim seungmim #yang jeongin #dom!skz #sub reader #stray kids x reader #straykids #stray kids smut #kpop x male reader #kpop x reader

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jaune-submissive-and-breedable · 1 month ago

Note

Glynda took the safety of her students very seriously, that’s why she did everything she could to get Jaune to drop out. He just wasn’t cut out to be a hunter, he would get hurt if he continued following his dream. So I’m combat class she paired him with opponents who wouldn’t hold back, afterwards she gave him overly cruel feedback and made him stay after. When the students left she pushed him down on her desk and rode his face till dinner, using her ridding crop to lightly slap his balls and dick, edging him for hours and never letting him finish.

It was cruel and she felt bad but it was for his own benefit, and when he eventually quite she would be there to take him home and turn him into her house husband.

"AhHHHHHH, WHY WON'T YOU JUST LEAVE!" Glynda howled, rocking her hips back and forth on her desk.

Beneath her was the form of her student, Jaune Arc, His eyes were closed from crying. He squirmed trying to escape from his teacher's grasp, but her heavier and soft body made all his attempts futile. His head squished underneath her plump, soft, and plentiful ass, his nostrils filled with her scent, his thighs weighed down by her upper body and massive dd-cup breast. His arms slapping frantically at her ass cheeks failing to get her to move, instead making them ripple from contact.

Glynda Lurched forward, using the hard wooden surface force support as she ground her dripping wet cunt into his face roughly. Her moans of frustration and pleasure echoing through the classroom/arena. throwing her head downward, she glare at his cock, the tip an angry red, slick with pre-cum, and it pulsated madly. She raise her right hand, her signature riding crop in it, and brought it down firmly against the side of his length, making the boy cry out in pain. She shivered feeling his cry vibrate her sensitive its, and performed the action once more. Once she was satisfied, she inspected the fleshy organ, bright read and faint purple bruises encompassed it and ran up its length.

"Urghh.....You have no idea how hard you're making my job, Mr. Arc!" she growl and glared back at the mob of blonde beneath her posterior. "You aren't improving! You still struggle against the simplest of opponents! And You're Grades for this class...Urrrggh......just why....."

She quickly lurched forward once more, giving his little head a quick lick. "WHY DON'T YOU JUST QUITE!!!!!"

Glynda arched her back and cried out from reaching her climax. Her eyelids rapidly twitching from pleasure. She slumped over, her face mere centimeters from the boy's pulsing cock.

"I refuse to bury my nephew....."

Contrary to her current demeanor, Glynda Goodwitch cared deeply about her student's safety. Especially the son of a close friend. In her early years, she used to babysit and care for the young boy like her own. she knew of his desires and how frail he was. so when she saw his Transcripts, she knew they were fake. She pleaded with Ozpin to reject the boy, but the old wizard simply refused. claiming to see his potential, but she knew he just wanted another Arc for his war. So when he passed the initiation, she knew it was too late for her to convince him, instead taking matters into her own hands.

When he first arrived in class, she held out hope that he had some training, but seeing him fall to a brute like Winchester, she knew he would be not only a danger to his team, but also himself. So every class, she paired him against harder & harder opponents, giving him harsh, and frankly, very demeaning critics after each loss, and even held him back to try and convince him to quit. She had to give him credit though, he has more courage and drive than most students with far better skill. And always smiling after each defeat, though she saw through the disguise. till one day She could stand it any more

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Mr. Arc....Please stay behind. I must talk to you about your performance today" Glynda called out calmly, but still firm.

Watching him sigh, and tell his team to go on with the rest of the day. He turned around and approached her, his usual dorky smile on his face.

"So, what do I need to work on now Auntie Glynda?" he teased

Once she was sure the rest of the students were gone, she used her semblance to lock the room doors, and pushed him onto her desk.

"Auntie Glynda What are you?!"

"Shut up!" she growled crawling on top of his scared body, tearing open his blazer and school shirt. "Just shut up, Jaune"

Staring him in the face, she slammed her lips against his, Jaune struggling to keep from being embraced by his aunt. She his resistance, she used her hands to hold him in place, her tongue licking his pursed lips. After she pulled away, Glynda spun around and hiked up her pencil skirt giving him a perfect view of her lavender lingerie bottoms and fat, white ass. Her plump, and mature pussy lips visible through the fabric.

Jaune's eyes widen, and blush crept up his face seeing them, and attempted to cover his face. "Auntie Glynda, what are you doing?!"

He saw a purple outline cover his hands and rip them away. Wasting no time, Goodwitch planted her rear onto his face and crossed her legs, entrapping him beneath her in a hellishly warm and sweet-smelling prison. She could feel his confusion and shock as he cried into, the cores. the vibrations running through out her inner walls causing great pleasure to her. She then turned her attention the boy's bulging pants. Tearing open the fly and pushing down his boxers, she gaped when she saw his cock, stand proud at an impressive 9 inches, his testicles the size of tangerines.

"Getting off from your punishment" she sneered, inching her hands towards his vulnerable organ "Someone, must be punished"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That was hours ago. He's been edged and denied countless times. She edged and denied him till she felt him stop squirming from a lack of oxygen. Even then, she continued to toy and abuse him to her heart's content. She herself orgasming numerous times during their taboo and lewd secession. Panting from her latest orgasm, Glynda slowly removed herself from his face, standing right next to Jaune and inspecting his form with worry.

His boyish face was red as Ms. Rose's cloak, slick with tears, sweat and cum, his cock practically purple from the lashings she gave him, his testicles grew till they were the size of soft balls, due partially to her teasing and his genetics. Finally, she saw his body twitching uncontrollably, no doubt scared, and feeling betrayed by his once trusted teacher.

"Auntie...please......please....no more..." Jaune begged, slowly curling up on his side, his eyes widened and scared.

Glynda, herself trembled as well. Part of her felt guilty for what she's done to him. Feeling that she betrayed not only her morals as a teacher, but as an aunt as well. However, the majority of her knew she was doing the right thing. Doing whatever it took to keep her student from harm. She knew that his mother, Juniper Arc, would agree with her methods.

Closing her eyes and breathing deeply, Glynda grabbed his side, turning once more onto his back. She mounted his lap and stared deep into his eyes once more. Lifting herself up, she impaled herself onto his cock. Gasping as his length stretch out her seldom used cunt. Slumping forwards, she leaned into his ear.

"I will keep you safe Jaune" she whispered, slowly grinding into his cock. "Even if i have to violate you everyday until you break"

Jaune said nothing and stared at the ceiling, still processing what's happening to him right now.

Glynda felt horrible, but the means justifies the end. Juniper would agree, and hell, Jaune may be more suited for the role of a house husband.

#rwby #rwby smut #jaune arc #glynda goodwitch #rwby arcwitch #jaune arc x glynda goodwitch

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sushiwriterhere · 1 year ago

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in a heartbeat

summary: "Maybe he just didn’t need the fanfare, maybe he needed to ditch the plans and just hand the rock to you over Chinese takeout and let that be it." rating: explicit (no minors!) pairing: bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x f!reader word count: 3.9k warnings: very fluffy, PiV (unprotected), no use of y/n. notes: this is my first fic in a while and im fighting writers block something awful. this is not proofread :( pls lmk what you think <3! my other works are here part of the coming home to you universe

four days before.

“I’m gonna go out for drinks with the girls Saturday.”

“Uhhh, you can’t.”

Did he need to loop your coworkers into the proposal plan too? Phoenix having dragged it out of him so they could all help was bad enough. Bradley could feel his headache building behind his eyes. He tried to avert eye contact to make the conversation feel natural, instead focusing his gaze on the onion he was trying to caramelize.

“I can’t?”

Bradley’s never been controlling, never tried to tell you who you can and can’t hang out with, and certainly never with that particular tone in his voice. He heard the mail you were inspecting drop onto the granite countertop as you turned your full attention on him.

“Why?”

Fuck.

He could hear the way your eyes were narrowed from the uncharacteristically steady tone of your voice, the way one eyebrow was raised expectantly.

In the back of his mind, Bradley also saw the picnic blanket, candles, and bottle of your favorite wine stashed at Mav’s. There were the flowers he had to pick up and arrange on Friday while you were working, the homemade meal Javy promised him that he needed to grab on Saturday around midday.

“I made dinner reservations at this new place down by the beach, and the only time they had was Saturday evening.”

“And you forgot to tell me until now?”

Bradley didn’t forget. Not about these types of things. Ever since your first date, Bradley had been nothing but proactive. He planned dates, cooked meals, doted on you. Forgetting just wasn’t like him.

“Made the reservation this morning and you seemed busy.” He finally met your eyes and he watched as your gaze softened and you turned back to the stack of mail.

“Bradley Bradshaw you are a sap.”

And the moment passed.

You and Bradley had talked about marriage, you have. You’d talked about it enough for him to know what kind of ring you wanted, that you wanted a small, intimate ceremony, and that you’d lost more than enough sleep over whether to invite your parents. You’d talked enough to know Bradley would probably have the Dagger Squad as best men (people?) and that he’d let Phoenix be part of your bridal party if you wanted, that he wanted Mav right there next to him, and that there would be an empty chair for Goose and Carole. That was one thing.

Getting down on one knee and actually going over that line? That was another.

The rational part of his brain had always insisted that you would say yes, that you also knew from very early on, if not the beginning. The unhelpful part of his brain kept telling him the ring was the wrong size or that a seagull would swoop down and steal the shiny thing right from his fingertips before you could even say no.

three days before.

Bradley’s checked the ring at least six times since he, Javy, and the other guys came into the shop. The sound of the velvet clicking back against itself then sliding open again was starting to grate on his nerves, but he wanted to give Bradley the benefit of the doubt. He remembered what it was like, that lump in your throat, the way his brain tended to keep him up about every disagreement, every time he should’ve apologized instead of stewing on his anger.

Javy, instead, choose peace. He watched calmly as Bradley opened the box again, and brought a finger up to trace the gems before deciding against it.

Doesn’t want to smudge it.

There was clearly something on his mind, because the ring had been paid for months ago and the re-sizing and adjustments were included in the price. But there Bradley was, stuck to the shop floor, looking like he was trying to decide between getting sick right there and maybe saving it for the trees outside the shop’s doors.

“What’cha thinkin’ about there, Rooster?” Jake sidled up to Bradley’s side, voice a low murmur, as if trying not to startle the man.

Regardless, Bradley jumped slightly, jostling the open box and the sound of the box snapping shut echoed harshly around the showroom. Bradley looked like he might’ve decided on getting sick inside.

“Should I get a second one? What if she doesn’t like this one?”

Across the room, a sales associate perked up just slightly, clearly looking to score on another guy so nervous he looked like a ghost. Vultures.

“Bradley, my man, we’ve been over this a thousand times. Phoenix got her Pinterest, it’s all a certain style, and it’s definitely the perfect ring.”

Jake and Bradley had begun to get along, rather begrudgingly at first, then very amicably, after the mission and Jake saved Bradley’s life. Seeing him comfort Bradley was something else though, Javy acknowledged. It was kind of nice to have that tension dissipate from within their team.

“But what if I need another perfect one?”

“Are you gonna propose to her twice?” Bob had popped up on Bradley’s other side, silent as ever. “Usually there’s a second one for the wedding, but I’m here for a bit of a new tradition.”

At that, Bradley deflated a bit. The box in his hands clicked open, then shut again.

“No, no new tradition.” He murmured, before slipping the box into his pocket.

two days before.

Bradley knew Mav loved him, but he wasn’t sure how much he would after this whole ordeal. They must’ve run over the schedule at least a thousand times, forward and backward, even while flying over their comms. At this point, Bradley was sure he had the entire Dagger Squad reciting the plan in their sleep. He hoped he at least wasn’t, he didn’t need you to be clued into anything.

“Nothing has moved since the last time you were here. Go home, Bradley.” Mav’s voice carried through the house as Bradley unceremoniously burst through the door.

He’d started leaving work fifteen minutes early last week, just to double check that everything was in its place, that nothing had broken or spontaneously combusted. It was just enough time for him to stop at Mav’s place on the way home, do his round, and make it home around the same time as usual so as not to rouse suspicion.

“I’m just–”

“Just checking yeah, get outta my house Bradley and go be with your fiance.” Mav had rounded the corner into his back room, all bathed in sunlight and a picture-perfect reminder of why people loved living in California.

He was the picture of relaxed domesticity, dish towel over his shoulder, spatula in one hand that he was clearly thinking about hitting Bradley with as he paced the room and ticked things off on his fingers as he murmured to himself.

“You’re gonna wear a hole in my carpet, and I happen to really like that rug.” Bradley stopped walking but the way his fingers twitched at his sides clued Mav into the way he was clearly still running through the run of show in his mind.

“She’s not my fiance yet.”

“And she never will be if I murder you for breaking into my house and giving my wife a heart attack.”

“Penny’s not even home at this hour.”

Mav had never seen Bradley like this. He’d missed graduations and recitals and all the shit you don’t get to see as an estranged god-father, but he’d done enough wondering about what he was like in those moments to have come up with this scenario. Bradley truly was the perfect mix of Goose and Carole–all Goose’s easy romantic energy, ever creative, ever attentive, and just as much of Carole’s eye for detail and desire for things to go right.

“Bradley.”

Mav watched as the fight eased out of Bradley’s shoulders and his hands relaxed at his sides, “Right. Sorry.”

“Look son, you don’t have to be sorry for wanting this to go right. And you’ve only got a little of sorry to be about starting to drive me insane.” At that, Bradley cracked half a smile and Mav considered that a small success. “You like this at home?”

A sharp laugh echoed around the wood-paneled room, “Oh absolutely not. She’d know in a heartbeat.”

“Well, then you have your answer.” The gears were turning at a million miles an hour as Bradley tried to decipher what he meant. “She knows you in a heartbeat, which means she knows how she feels about you. And we both know what that means for Saturday.”

Bradley nodded, the picture of relaxation and ease all at once. “I’ll see you Saturday.”

one day before.

Bradley was starting to think the gash on his finger was some sort of awful omen, something terrible that had been awaiting to reveal itself until the last moment. He’d arranged flowers for you probably a million times at this point, had even done it blindfolded (only cheating a bit so he didn’t lose a finger) just to amuse you. Now, as he stared at the blood bubbing up from his middle left finger where he’d just stabbed himself with the scissors, the entire thing felt like some sort of cosmic joke.

He’d never doubted that he wanted to marry you, not even when you’d argued or insisted on shoving your ice cold fingers and toes up against him in the dead of night. Not once had he wavered since that initial thought in his brain, and he was even more sure when he went to open that fucking bank account that he’d been diligently adding a sizeable portion of his paycheck to. (What? He wanted to be sure he could afford exactly what you wanted, DeBeers advertising campaign be damned.)

Maybe he just didn’t need the fanfare, maybe he needed to ditch the plans and just hand the rock to you over Chinese takeout and let that be it.

The only thing keeping him going despite all his nerves, aside from his deep love for you, was the way you’d once leaned against him when the two of you were spending a week away in the mountains. Overlooking something that felt like it was right from a postcard, you’d told him exactly how all the little romantic things he did made you feel.

“Every time you buy me flowers, I get this little feeling in my chest, like something curling around my heart.” Bradley remembered keeping himself from making a joke, something about heart attacks, trying not to break the moment as the fog hung low over the trees.

“From the moment you picked me up for our first date and insisted on opening the car door, bringing me flowers, they all make me get that little squirmy feeling that no one’s ever given me before.” You had pressed yourself to his side but not met his eyes, as if your confession was too powerful, too heavy to make when looking at him, “And some of it’s because I’m a sap at heart and you somehow know what I want before I do, but some of it’s just because it’s you Bradley. Always has been, always will be.”

The words said next would keep him going in his darkest moments, kept him together on long deployments, kept him pushing through every moment of doubt in the planning process.

“So if you ever decide to propose to me, even if it’s just you asking me over coffee, just know I’ll get that feeling, just because it’s you.”

At that, you’d turned to face him, shifting so you could hook your chin over his shoulder where he turned his face to yours. He could see every lash, every spot on your face that he loved to press his lips to when you were too sleepy to protest. You’d graced him with a tiny smile, somehow just a bit melancholy, but all too loving.

Bradley shook his head, clearing the memory as he scrambled to keep his blood from spattering on the countertop. He was going to have to grit his teeth through the pain of using a liquid bandaid so the pictures weren’t ruined by a regular bandaid.

You’d compromised on drinks being Friday, so he had the evening to himself. All the time in the world for flowers, for a barbecue at Javy’s (home cooked meal to be picked up that night instead of Saturday morning), and for waiting up for you to text that you were ready to go home.

the day of.

Bradley thought he’d be blinded by panic, or doubt, now that he was counting down hours and minutes in place of days or weeks. Instead, all he felt was a sense of serenity, almost like he was floating through the motions.

The day started like every Saturday he’d had since you moved in and he’d been granted a relatively permanent station at Top Gun with Mav and the rest–you pressed up against him, your hair tickling some part of his bare skin, and the type of bone deep satisfaction with life that came with going to bed with a full belly and the love of his life at his side. He stared up at the ceiling fan as it made its lazy rotations and thought about how today was marking the difference between two parts of his life.

After today, there would always be a time before the proposal, and after.

The morning was lazy as you insisted you didn’t have a hangover but let Bradley cook you a plate full of turkey bacon, gently scrambled eggs, and a few hashbrowns. He knew you would be fine by afternoon, and after that excited to hang out at the beach before dinner.

He was sort of counting on it.

Apparently he’d underestimated your ability to bounce back because the way you draped yourself across his bare back was a little less than innocent as your hands smoothed over his shoulders and down his stomach. He slowed the way he was chewing the last of his hashbrown as you pressed a kiss to the sensitive spot under his ear.

“Good morning, Bradley,” You crooned lowly.

“Mornin’.”

His stomach jumped as you ran a nail over one of his nipples, and kissed at his shoulder. Tilting his head to the side to give you more room to work with, he took a slow drink of his water.

Maybe he wanted you to work for it just a little, what with how badly he’d been stressing these last few weeks.

And work for it you did. The light drag of your nails just barely there on his stomach and arms had him getting hard faster than he thought was humanly possible. But there was just something about the warmth of your chest at his back, the thinness of some shirt you’d stolen from him doing little to hide the swell of your breasts, that did it for him. Hell, it was really just that it was you that got him going.

“I missed you last night.” You whined, just a bit, as he finally turned around on the barstool and gathered you into his lap.

You could definitely feel the way he was hard against the soft give of your thighs, but somehow in that moment, all he wanted was you near. Sensing that somehow the moment had maybe passed, you curled in his lap and stretched your arms around his shoulders, apparently just content to be touching him.

“I missed you too.”

The way your lips met his was almost as natural as breathing, and then the moment wasn’t so innocent anymore. Your lips slotted against his as you kneaded at his arm muscles and part of Bradley was incredibly satisfied that you were enjoying just how much effort he put in at the gym. Sure, he had to be fit for his physical, but how hard he went on his biceps and shoulders was purely for your benefit.

When the two of you finally stumbled back into the bedroom, Bradley thought he might pass out from how hard he was. Everything about you was amplified somehow. Your skin was softer and the gentle scent of whatever perfume you’d worn last night filled his nose. The give of your hips and thighs was easier and all he wanted was to sink his teeth into you and never let go. You might even let him.

Sprawled underneath him you looked like a goddess, bathed in the rising morning sun, nipples gently peaked as your chest rose and fell.

“I love you.”

It was so tender in comparison to the way you sat up and worked a hand inside Bradley’s boxers to grab firmly at his cock. He groaned as you shoved at the little clothing the two of you were wearing and in a moment, your skin was a beautiful contrast to the crisp white of the sheets.

Bradley made to go down on you but you kept his face in your hands, “Been ready to go since I watched you scramble those eggs.”

He couldn’t hold back the way he barked out a laugh, that one was new. “The way the white and yolk were combined really do it for you?”

You smacked at his chest indignantly as he propped one of your thighs over the crook of his elbow, “Your back and arms look nice when you whisk, you asshole.”

You weren’t so huffy as he slid into you, gentle as ever. Bradley knew he wasn’t the biggest ever, but he also knew he wasn’t anything to scoff at either. He kissed away any discomfort he could see on your features til you rocked your hips up against his insistently.

“Give it to me like you mean it, babe,” Grinning all cheerfully, Bradley cursed under his breath as he felt you bear down on him.

After that, there was little to be said beyond whispers of I love you and the occasional swear word. Sometimes sex between the two of you was raunchy and heated, and other times it rounded out his Saturday mornings in a way that left him sated like nothing else. Sometimes he thought it might be better than flying.

You came first, digging your nails into his shoulders and breathing his name in repeat. The feeling of you squeezing around him did little to keep him from coming and besides, the way you scraped your nails down his chest and begged him to let go definitely did him in.

Clean up was quiet kisses and gentle shoves in the direction of the en-suite bathroom, Bradley making sure the water wasn’t too cold for you as you peed. (It was the little things.)

Fuck what Bradley had thought earlier about being serene, he thought he was going to crawl out of his skin. Holding your hand as the two of you made your way down the beachfront towards the space behind the Hard Deck, you were chattering on about some coworker’s baby shower and Bradley was focusing way too hard on not absolutely eating shit with the way the sand was shifting under his feet.

In the distance, he could see the candles and the picnic blanket like a homing beacon. He couldn’t see Mav or Javy or anyone else, but he knew they were all hiding somewhere, ready to burst from the shadows in excitement. Harvard was also brandishing a camera even though Bradley couldn’t see any hint that he was around–turns out he was a more-than-amatuer photographer and had volunteered to capture the moment.

“Bradley, what’s all this?” Your voice reached a winded sort of pitch as the two of you finally reached the set up.

It was perfect, and part of Bradley finally exhaled. The picnic blanket from your fourth date, the little tea candles doting the beach, and the bouquet of flowers resting at the corner of the blanket, right within Bradley’s reach.

Gently dropping your hand, Bradley picked up the flowers and pressed them into your hands. By now, you’d clearly caught on that something was happening because your eyes were wide and slightly teary, and there was a ghost of a wobble in your lower lip.

Tan suit be damned, Bradley dropped to one knee and pulled out the velvet box that had been burning a hole in his pocket since before the two of you had gone out to dinner. (The dinner reservation had actually been real, to his credit.)

“Oh my god,” you whispered, bringing a hand to your mouth in a way that betrayed the way your hands were shaking.

Bradley inhaled deeply, before popping open the lid of the box and letting his eyes flick down to where the ring was sitting, nestled right where it was supposed to be.

As if unable to stop yourself, you opened your mouth and blurted, “If you’re about to ask me what I think you are, the answer is yes. A thousand times yes.”

Blinking up at you, Bradley didn’t move a muscle as you kept going, “Oh my god wait you probably have a whole speech, I’m so sorry, I’ll shut up now.”

Distantly, Bradley heard a shutter clicking but neither of you broke eye contact as his face broke into a huge smile. He kept going according to his plan, the unspoken understanding passing between the two of you that you’d never live that down.

He said your first name like a prayer, before launching into the speech he’d rehearsed for months now, “I have loved you since I met you. I love every part of you–your laugh, the way you’re passionate about your work, the way you love everyone around you with such intensity. I love you when we argue, I love you when we’re together and apart. You consume my every waking thought, and grace me with your presence when I dream. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“I want to wake up next to you for the rest of my life. I want to bicker about how we go through junk mail, the right way to parallel park, and what show we’re going to watch on Thursdays for however long you’ll let me. I want you by my side for the good, the bad, in sickness, and in health.” He said your name again, before asking the question he already knew the answer to, “Will you marry me?”

“Yes, oh my god yes.”

Miraculously, Bradley slipped the ring on your finger without incident, then gathered you up into his arms and pressed your lips together. His cheeks were wet with your tears.

“I love you so much, Bradley Bradshaw, you are my everything,” You choked out when he set you down unable to stop yourself from sticking your hand out in front of you and crying harder when you saw the ring of your dreams adorning your hand.

“I can’t believe you said yes before I asked,” He breathed before pulling you into him to kiss you fiercely one more time.

“She said yes before I even opened my mouth,” Bradley chuckled as you giggled by his side, hands never leaving the new ring on your finger.

“That’s not nearly as bad as you were for the last three months,” Javy crowed, and the crowd was in uproar as Bradley attempted to defend himself.

Above all the noise and the lighthearted teasing, Bradley knew one thing–he was happy. And you had said yes.

----

tagging: @sebsxphia @roosterbruiser @bradshawburner @gretagerwigsmuse @sometimesanalice @joaquinwhorres @roosterbruiser @roosterforme @bradshawsbitch @seresinsweetie @notroosterbradshaw @kmc1989 @peachystenbrough @rhettabbotts @theharddeck @wkndwlff @waklman @blue-aconite @thedroneranger @bibitches-r-us @sunlightmurdock @laracrofted @jupitercomet - tagging ppl either by request or whom i feel like are luv <r bradley. pls lmk if you'd like to be added/removed

#top gun: maverick #no use of y/n #bradley bradshaw #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #top gun: maverick fanfic #top gun: maverick fic #top gun maverick #rooster x reader #rooster fanfic #coming home to you universe

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aquitainequeen · 5 months ago

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I went looking for more narrative threads in Furiosa and found an excellent one:

During the early days of her captivity, Furiosa is advised by the History Man to make herself useful to Dementus in order to survive. Understandably she doesn't take his advice, choosing to stay silent and unresponsive even while Dementus cossets her as his 'daughter'.

Years later, she first sees 'the Praetorian Jack' from afar coming to inspect the new War Rig, and not just walking in the company of Rictus but walking in front of him. What's more, Rictus hands him the steering wheel for the rig, catching his attention when he's distracted and calling him 'Jack'. This is a big deal, since at least one of the sons of Immortan Joe is on relatively familiar terms with Jack and clearly respects him. Jack has brought home the booty every time; this has given him certain status, privileges and security. He doesn't seem worried about what Joe might do to him when he loses his crew to the Octoboss' attack; he knows he's proven himself to be useful enough that he'll be free to build a new crew.

And that proven usefulness benefits Furiosa in turn. Jack promises her that he can help her to escape the Citadel when the time is right, because he's perfectly confident that he's far too useful for Joe to kill or punish too severely. Many viewers wondered why Joe didn't take Furiosa (again) for his harem when she was revealed as a woman, but realising how valued a servant Jack is to Joe explains a lot. If Jack wants this person on his crew and explains the reasoning for it then Joe will listen, take his advice and give him what he wants.

Of course, the fun really begins when Jack not only swears to help Furiosa on her way, but deeply wants to be of use to her in finding her way home...

#Long post #Furiosa #Furiosa meta #furiosa a mad max saga #furiosa: a mad max saga #Praetorian jack #Furiosa spoilers #Rictus erectus #The history man

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inblackwoods · 7 months ago

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While I'm posting about my pathologic transcription, I'll make shorter posts about my takeaways. About the literal health of the environment around town, we get a couple people on day one to give context. The most obvious is Aspity, but to get an idea as to why things are as she says, you have to talk to a drunkard, called a Carouser, and a Tot.

The Tot mentions a "Rotten Field," and when asked what that is, he says:

"It’s where they bury the bulls’ bones. The place is covered with fur instead of grass, and it’s all bones bones bones underground. Bones and horns. Yeah."

Why are so many bones and horns and hides being thrown into a field instead of being used in some way? Either for jewelry, clothes, or for tradesmen's tools, these things have a variety of uses.

The Carouser, when asked about the Abattoir, says:

"Hundreds of bulls are being slaughtered there- what else is there to know? It is our humble town that provides the whole Northeastern region with beef! Or even the whole country mayhap."

It's because of the massive scale of the Bull Project that so much excess material is being produced and then thrown into the fields and rivers as waste products. Nothing is in higher demand than meat, nothing is needed as regularly, and perhaps the people in the Capital and in other towns are less interested in buying blood or bone. It's not profitable, the Olgimskys don't view it as anything but by products of more lucrative things.

Aspity says:

"All that water comes from the Steppe and it isn’t exactly clean. Yesterday I inspected all the springs in the area; there seems to be no more clean water around. That salty taste is everywhere, it’s reddish in colour, and there are disgusting clots in it."

And when Bachelor asks for more information, she says:

"The towsnfolk store water in home-made reservoirs. This modest supply should be enough to help us last a little while, but afterwards we’ll have to drink that bloody mixture."

Bachelor reacts to this with disgust, and can even insist she is lying, perhaps because he had been benefitting from this disgusting reality in his life in the Capital.

Aspity's whole point in starting this conversation is to make blatantly clear some of the side effects of the Steppe's occupation, which is that the waste material of the Abattoir is dumped into the river and land. This problem would be lessened in severity if the community was manufacturing meat not for the sake of providing for the entire country, but just for the local population and what's necessary to export in exchange for other essential imports. Obviously, this would be less lucrative for the Olgimskys (who don't care as long as they don't suffer any loss) but it would mean that the people who live here would better be able to care for themselves and the land with no need to think of supporting an entire country off the backs of one small community. The occupation of the Steppe, the running of the Bull Project, will not only destroy the Kin and lower classes, but will also eventually kill the town, the higher classes and even the Olgimskys as well. When the water runs out, it will run out for the lower classes first, but it will eventually run out for everyone.

More on Fat Vlad trying to talk about this all as if it were an inescapable, natural reality (and the Bachelor's fighting against this notion) later. Sort of how some people think that the way the world works, capitalism and such, are natural laws instead of constructed ideas (horrible fallacy).

#Pathologic #Pathologic HD Classic #мор утопия #This game is good about addressing a lot of the horrible realities of the town and how it's being run #I just don't see it talked about that often #Post cannon even in a Termite ending a lot of work needs to be done to do right by the Kin and to even make this town survive long term #So many things are killing it and despite what Fat Vlad says #It doesn't have to be this way

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scarnatlover · 1 year ago

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In the comfort of your arms

Summary: In light of shocking news, the refuge found within the comforting embrace of a girlfriend becomes an anchor, grounding one's frayed nerves and fragile spirit.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader (romantic); Tony Stark x Reader (platonic)

Warnings: panick attack, mention of blood, mention of sex

-------------------------------------------------------

Y/N pov

Being the CEO of one of the most prestigious law firms is certainly not a point that everyone can get to. I'm not everyone. But that doesn't make it any easier. And it isn't.

Everyone thinks that because I'm the CEO, I don't do anything. Wrong. I do more than anyone else. I'm the first one in the office in the morning and the last one to leave at night. Constantly dealing with papers to sign, contracts to inspect, cases to review, in and out of courts, constant calls from people who want either me or one of my lawyers, meetings I have to attend, and so on.

Of course, competition doesn't help. Ricky's Corporation is the only company that is on par with mine. There has always been this rivalry. Where my company did not reach, his company did; Where his company didn't reach, mine did. In the end, for several years now, it has been mine that has prevailed, even if only briefly.

There were times when I told myself to shut everything down, that it wasn't worth it anymore, but Nat was always there with me to reassure me that everything I was doing was perfect and that I was at a great point in my career. And everything went back to the way it was before.

Until, Tony Stark showed up at my office, asking me to be his lawyer. After a long discussion, we both decided to embark on this journey together. What I didn't know was that being Tony's lawyer meant becoming the lawyer for the Avengers and Stark Industries as well, which was not in the contract but which I let go for fear of losing such an important client.

The only benefit that this choice brought me was the money that comes to us every time. Of course, Tony doesn't care much about his bank accounts. But that alone did me any good. Otherwise, the work has tripled, if not more. Many more meetings, many more documents, many more calls and hearings. Sometimes I can't even get home to Nat because of the work I have to do. Not to mention, I have to stop whatever I'm doing every time Tony calls.

Just like now. I was reviewing documents for an alleged first-degree murder case when my phone rang. I pressed the button and heard my secretary's voice on the other end of the line.

"Miss Y/L/N, Mr. Stark has requested your presence in half an hour in his office at Stark Industries" I heard that voice that usually told me good news; Not this time.

"Tell him I'm busy, I'll go to him as soon as I can," I said, continuing to look at the papers in front of me and underline the main parts of what was written.

"I'm sorry Miss, but he insists," she continued.

I got up from my chair, loosening a little the tie that Nat had tied around my neck this morning, a sign that I was getting nervous and not just a little. I picked up my phone and looked at the time. 3:57 p.m., weird that Tony was in the office at this time.

"Tell him I'm coming" I ended the conversation before ending the call for good.

I quickly gathered my things and then left my office, a little frustrated. I texted Nat that I probably wouldn't be home by 4:30 p.m., as we had arranged since we wanted to have an afternoon to ourselves.

I think the others who were with me in the building understood that this was not the time to speak to me or to stand in my way. When I got into the car, I leaned my head on the steering wheel, exasperated. I could feel my eyes filling with tears. I was tired, very tired. It was all too much, too difficult, too complicated, too tiring. But it has always been my dream to join a law company.

After half an hour, I finally managed to park the car in the Stark Industries parking lot and got out of the car; I made my way to the entrance of the hotel and as soon as I arrived at the reception I saw Happy sitting on a chair near the elevator, looking at me. I waved to him and he immediately reciprocated, even sending a smile.

Once Tony's receptionist gave me access, I went up in the elevator and pressed the floor number Tony had pointed me to. While it was going up, I pulled out my phone, expecting a message from Nat, but it wasn't there. My message had been ignored, but I could see that it had been delivered and even read. This only added to my frustration.

Finally, the elevator stopped, I got out but I stopped a few steps later because I saw the very person I expected to see only in the trials. Ricky Martin. I just hoped Tony hadn't called him too.

I walked over to sit on one of the free chairs, hoping Ricky wouldn't notice me. Unfortunately, of course, this was not the case.

"If it's not Y/N Y/L/N that sitting there" he practically screamed, some people turned to look at us a little badly.

"Hi Ricky" I replied annoyed and without looking him in the eye I could guess that he understood that he was bothering me.

Before he could say anything else, Tony opened the door, letting out the other person who was inside with him. I understood why Nat didn't reply to the message. She was with Tony discussing something. As soon as she saw me, she completely ignored Ricky, who was looking for her attention and headed towards me.

"I'm so sorry my moon, as soon as I saw the message I wanted to answer you, but Stark called me for a meeting about a mission. I have to leave now, I'll be back about tomorrow morning. I'm sorry I can't be with you as we planned, but I promise we'll be together tomorrow," she said with a pout, then took my face in her hands and gently leaned her lips on mine. Honestly, I was hoping that tonight it would be just me, her and Liho, but instead, there will only be the cat at home since after this news I didn't want to stay home alone, so I'll stay in the office.

I nodded and she looked at me with a mixture of confusion and concern, but before she could say anything, her phone rang. She looked at the screen and saw Clint's ID. "Fuck" she murmured giving me another kiss and telling me to warm up the food she had prepared in the fridge, before running to the elevator and getting in.

Sighing, I picked up the papers I had placed on the chair next to me when I sat down and walked into Tony's office.

As usual, it was a mess. But who would Tony Stark be if he didn't leave everything in disarray? I sat in the chair next to Ricky, without looking him in the face, leaving my eyes to focus only on Tony.

"You may be wondering the reason for this sudden call" he began and already from his tone of voice I knew that whatever was on his mind, I would not like it. "Given the events that are going on, I've been thinking a lot these days," he said, opening a drawer and taking out a packet of peanuts, starting to eat them and then continuing to talk. "I think instead of just Y/N, Ricky should be a lawyer for this company as well."

And at that moment, everything stopped. As if my whole life had just been thrown away. As if all my efforts, sleepless nights, and evenings spent in the office instead of in my bed had been for nothing. As if my dream of becoming the best has been shattered. Because that's exactly what happened. Ricky sat next to me, looking at me with a smug smirk.

The rest of the meeting was difficult; My leg was bouncing up and down, a clear sign that I wanted to get out of that place. Tony must have noticed this because he quickly finished his speech and then told us we could leave.

Martin left quickly, his smirk still on his face. I didn't move from my chair. I couldn't understand, I couldn't focus on one thing, I couldn't stop shaking, I couldn't breathe. He couldn't give anything.

Martin left quickly, his smirk still on his face. I didn't move from my chair. I couldn't understand what was going on, I couldn't focus on one thing, I couldn't stop shaking, I couldn't breathe. I couldn't do anything.

I felt my clothes sticking to my skin, not allowing me to breathe, my hands were becoming numb, my chest felt like it was on fire, and I could feel my heartbeat in my ears. It seemed to go at the same speed as the F1 cars.

I didn't understand anything, I didn't know what was going on. I felt like I was dying, or fainting, I don't know which of the two. But thinking about it only made things worse.

Nat pov

I should have expected that. I can't have a night out with my girlfriend because my work is always in the middle. Sometimes I think about what our life would be like if I wasn't an Avenger. It would be very nice, but at the same time, it would not be the everyday life I know very well.

I was in the quinjet getting ready to leave when I heard the phone ring. I made a puzzled face before heading to the table where we usually outline the mission's plan of attack. I immediately saw that Tony was calling me and I sighed in exasperation.

"Tony, what's up, I've got to-"

"Nat, you have to come here to the office, it's Y/N." Hearing those words, I took my duffel bag, where I had my clothes since I had already put on my suit, phone and car keys.

"What's going on? What's wrong?" I asked frantically, running as fast as I could toward my Corvette, which seemed much farther away than I remembered I had parked it.

"I don't know, I think she's having a panic attack and I don't know what to do. I tried everything" he explained and finally, I got to the car, quickly entering it and, as soon as I put the keys in, I sped away, still on the phone with Tony.

"Fuck, move you shitty assholes" I yelled slamming my hands on the steering wheel, since those in front of me, even with the green light, didn't move and I was in a hurry.

As soon as I arrived, for the second time that day, I parked quickly, forgetting my bag with my house keys, wallet and phone inside, but at that moment, the only thing I cared about was my girlfriend.

Running, I entered the building, quickly showing my security badge and then running to the stairs, deciding that they would be faster than the elevator and let's face it, I don't think I've ever run so fast.

When I finally got to the floor where Tony's office was, I saw Ricky Martin smiling while he was on the phone with someone, but as soon as he laid eyes on me, he ended the conversation and walked over to me.

I wanted to go straight on my way until he started talking to me. "Your girlfriend's a failure, Romanoff," he grabbed my arm. "She has not succeeded and she will never be able to do anything in life. I bet she doesn't even you fuck well" when I heard the last words, I couldn't contain myself and punched him on the nose, both because of the words he was saying about Y/N, and because, as I said many times, I was in a hurry.

"My girlfriend," I replied as he held his nose while moaning in pain, "She's not a failure. You, Ricky Martin, are a failure. On her own, she's managed to go a lot farther than you. And it sure fucks me better than you Ricky, even if it doesn't take much, given the cock you find yourself down there. Even a rubber cock is better than yours" and I left, walking over to Tony's office door.

When I entered, I found myself in front of a scene that I had never seen before. Y/N, sitting on the floor with her back against the wall, her neck and arms full of scratches, some bleeding, some not, with her shirt unbuttoned and her tie thrown somewhere, crying and desperate, trying unsuccessfully to breathe. Tony, on the other hand, was crying too, probably because he felt partly useless because he couldn't help Y/N, and on the other hand, because he felt guilty thinking he was the one who created this situation. As soon as Tony saw me, he motioned for me to go to Y/N without worrying about him.

Calmly and quietly, I approached my girlfriend, so as not to panic her more. "Hey, my moon. Can you try to take big, deep breaths for me, mhm?" I said gently taking her hands, trying to stop her from hurting herself more. She just shook her head and then started banging it against the wall behind her.

"No, no darling, we don't do that, mhm. Sh sh sh, it's all right, I'm here. Can you feel me? Can you feel my hands?" I asked her and after a few moments, she nodded. I just smiled at her before bringing her hand to my chest, to let her feel my regular heartbeat. "Come on love, let's do as the therapist said, huh? Inhale for 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5. Hold for 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5 and finally exhale for 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5" I patiently guided her as she did her breaths, just as her psychologist had instructed me.

"Well done my love, very good. But now we have to repeat them, okay? Just like before" I told her, this time bringing her head to my chest and squeezing her hard enough to make her feel that I was there with her, but that I didn't want to restrict her any more.

After a few minutes, finally, her breathing was regular again, although she continued to tremble, and a lot of it. I stood there with her on the floor sitting, gently stroking her hair and giving her the comfort she needed. Occasionally, I would give her a few kisses on the forehead or wherever I could go. "Do you want to go home now?" I asked her after a while longer, hoping for a positive response from her. As an answer, however, I only got a no.

"Love…" I whispered to her, a little disconsolate by her answer, but it was very predictable. From the beginning of the relationship I had understood that she, even if she was very sick, had to go to the office if she hadn't finished something and this caused a lot of fights between the two of us, but they always ended up with her in my arms crying while she apologized and me consoling her.

"I-I know, I know. But I've go-ot to get to the office quick, I-I've got t-to finish something quickly," she whispered in a faint voice, breaking here and there. Usually, I would have let her go, but in the condition she was in, it didn't seem appropriate, so I tried to negotiate

"Okay, let's do it this way. You and I now go home, take a bath together, put on matching pajamas and watch Moana until you fall asleep" I tried to convince her, also trying to make her sleepy by gently stroking her hair. She opened her mouth, probably to protest again, but before she could do so, I started talking again. "Liho can sleep in the bed with us and you can be the little spoon" and after that, I knew I had convinced her. I felt her body relax against mine, her regular breathing on my neck, her hands fisting my suit. When she finally nodded, I smiled and kissed her on the forehead.

We spent that night just as I promised. Liho was asleep next to Y/N who was next to me, with her head on my chest, curled up like a baby. I wouldn't change a thing at all. With her, I feel like I'm at home. And deep down, I was.

#black widow x reader #marvel #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha x reader #tony stark

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