#but girl you saw what happens to prisoners you saw it

[bringmeanangel]

In a Mood

Pairing: Post-prison Spencer Reid and reader

Tags/Warning: slight Mean Dom Spencer Reid, sub reader, smut. established relationship. gloves, spanking, praise kink, humiliation. pet names. name calling. Use of slut. Hand on throat. Slapping once. finger sucking. hair pulling. spreader bar. gag, teasing. Spanking. good girl. Alight edging. AFTERCARE. did I forget anything?

Synopsis: He tsked "What a little slut" his eyes narrowing a bit, checking in and you inhaled, nodding, signaling him to continue. "Is that what you are?" his  hand wrapped around your throat.

A/N: hello. WELP! I'm trying my hand at some smut. Please be kind it's my first official smut, with a post prison Spencer, because what a mood. Read the tags please! Um... oh this got away from me.

You were getting ready for bed. Spencer was eyeing you, something seemed on your mind. He snaked his arms around your waist and kissed your shoulder.

"What's on your mind, angel?" he asked and  he saw you blush. 

"Just thinking" you said. He reached a hand up and started to massage your shoulders. 

"About what?" 

"Today, in the morgue..." you trailed off.

Spencer's hands stilled for a moment. He certainly didn't think that's how you were going to start the sentence. He kissed your temple, returning to massage your shoulders. You took a deep breath.

"When you pulled on the gloves" you looked down and blushed harder

Spencer smirked and turned you to face him. He cupped your cheek with one hand and stroking his thumb. He was always so patient with you.

"You know me and you in gloves. Part of me wanted to just spread my legs." you looked up a bit, seeing something in his eyes darken.

"Yeah?" he said, standing a bit taller, making you moan. He tsked "What a little slut" his eyes narrowing a bit, checking in and you inhaled, nodding, signaling him to continue. "Is that what you are?" his  hand wrapped around your throat.

"Yes, Doctor." you moaned. 

You never really called him that, it was sir or his name, but something about tonight, it slipped out.

He let go of your throat and you watched as he undid the buttons on his cuff and rolled up his sleeves to his elbows.

He went to the nightstand where he just had a box of gloves out and grabbed a pair. He pulled on the pair, as you watched him adjust the gloves.

 You let out a whimper, barely moving, you're pretty sure he just broke your brain. He was so sexy like this.

A gloved hand gripped your chin tight, snapping you out of your daze. You looked at his lust blown eyes, making you moan loud. He slapped you and gripped your chin tighter. 

"What am I going to do with you?"  he tsked again. He let go of your chin and you tried not to whine at the loss of contact.

"I've got a few ideas" you boldly said with a smirk, causing him to raise an eyebrow. 

God, that dom brow was everything. A gloved hand gripped tight around your throat, causing you to gasp. With his other hand he slipped two fingers into your mouth.

"I don't remember giving you permission to speak" he sneered. You started sucking his fingers "So needy for something in your mouth, sweetheart, you'll take anything."

He pushed his fingers back, loosening his grip on your throat. You gagged a bit and he pulled his fingers back.

"Aw, poor little slut. I don't think you can handle my cock in your mouth tonight." 

Spencer was surprised with himself and a little impressed. You two did rough scenes, but this was coming from deep down. You loved this side of Spencer.

It was rare to see this side, rough scenes were something you two talked about, especially after everything that happened to him in prison, but whatever was making him do this, thank you.

You whimpered, trying to shake your head, eyes pleading. You wanted his cock in your mouth. He titled his head to the side in mock concern. 

"Tell you what, if you can prove to me that you can take my cock without gagging, then you can have it." His gloved hands left you. "Shirt off. On your knees." he said

You took his shirt off, leaving your underwear on. You sank to your knees in front of him. A gloved hand fisted your hair, pulling your head up to look at him.

"If you're a good girl then you wont gag. Open wide" he ordered and you did. 

Two gloved fingers made their way back into your mouth, pushing your tongue down. You gagged a bit and his eyes went slightly soft, checking in.

You give a small nod to keep going. He pulled his fingers out and you opened wide trying to relax your throat. He held up his two fingers and placed them back into your mouth.

You prayed that this wouldn't gag you, but for some reason your body was failing you today. You gagged, coughed, and drool was coming out of your mouth.

"Poor little girl" he mockingly pouted. 

"Please" you whimpered and he let out a soft chuckle. 

"Stay" he ordered and you stayed on your knees.

Your eyes followed him as he went back into the closet and returned with your dildo gag. Your eyes went wide.

Fuck.

"Seems like you need a bit of retraining." his tone was dark.

A gloved hand pulled your chin down and he slid the dildo gag in. He secured it and you looked at him whimpering. He reached under the bed and grabbed the spreader bar.

Your eyes widened even more and you nodded eagerly. He had you lay on the bed. Spencer yanked your underwear down  and lifted your legs as you bent them letting them fall open.

"I change my mind, on your knees, chest down." he said.

You rolled over willingly knowing the aftercare was going to be perfect. Cuffs were attached to your ankles and your arms moved between your legs and he secured the cuffs.

Your ass was up and you were vulnerable and exposed. You gasped when you felt him spread your ass cheeks. He gave a sharp smack and spread your pussy, seeing how wet you were.

"So wet already." he lightly patted your pussy a few times. His hands left you. "What to do with you?" he spoke.

Walking around to grab the vibrator that was in your nightstand. He looked at you and mock pouted again.

"Maybe I should leave you like this. I could sit here, watch you as you're all tied up, needy for my hands on you" you whined.

He crouched down to eye level, his arms on his knees, so you had a good view of him in gloves, but he wasn't touching you. Brown eyes peering at you.

"I could look over some cases. Be working and all you could think about would be my gloved hands lightly dancing across your pussy. playing with your clit." you moaned "See, I wouldn't fuck you, but I'd make you cum multiple times. My fingers, the vibrator. Of course, I wouldn't forget your ass. Get it all nice and red before I slide a finger or two in."

Holy hell was Spencer in a mood. A good mood, a torturous, teasing and mean mood.

"You'd be thinking about that while I just watch you."

Your eyes pleading with him to touch you. He reached a hand up and stroked his hand on your temple. you instantly relaxed.

"Good girl." he praised.

Spencer snapped the gloves off. He massaged your neck and shoulders for a second. You were gagged and bound for his viewing pleasure. 

He had grabbed some files and sat in the chair. He smirked at you, and got to work. He looked up when he heard you whimper, concern on his face, but it quickly left when saw you wiggle your hips. 

This was driving you nuts and it had only been five minutes. He clicked his tongue, raising an eyebrow and placed the files on the chair.

He stood up and grabbed a pillow and folded it. Your eyes widened, was he going to... he placed the pillow between your legs.

"If you're so desperate, show me." He stood there and crossed his arms. You shook your head and he cocked an eyebrow. "No?" You shook your head. "Then be a good girl" 

Spencer grabbed the pillow from between your legs. He tossed it on the floor and went back to sitting on the chair.

This was going to be a long night, you thought. 

Fifteen minutes later Spencer got up and walked to the nightstand, pulling out a pair of gloves. He pulled them on and spanked your ass, causing you to jump a little.

You heard him chuckle and he walked over to your face and titled his head to the side.

"How's my slut?" he adjusted the gloves. 

Spencer reached into the nightstand and grabbed your vibrator and lube.

He reached down and rubbed your clit with one hand and slid two fingers into your pussy with the other gloved hand. You gasped around the gag.

"So sensitive already." he said he pulled his fingers out, but kept rubbing your clit.

His hand left you and you heard the familiar buzzing. You jumped when the vibrator was placed on your clit.

A gloved hand was placed on your lower back and Spencer could tell you were getting close.

He pulled the vibrator away and turned it off. Two fingers rubbed your pussy, it clenched around nothing.

"Such a needy little cunt you've got. Just waiting for me to" he dipped two fingers into you and you clenched around him "Oh. There we go" he soothed, turning the vibrator back on and moving his fingers in and out of you. 

Your eyes shut as you felt your orgasm building. Your muffled cries when he pulled out and turned the vibrator off when you were so close made him give a low throaty chuckle.

He placed the vibrator down and lightly patted your pussy,

"I know, baby." you could hear the condescending tone in his voice. "You just want to cum." you nodded "Yeah, that's what you want?" you nodded again, 

Without warning, two fingers were inserted into you, his fingers curling up and rubbing your g-spot.

His gloved pinky rubbed against your overly sensitive clit and your back arched and you orgasamed  

His fingers didn't stop and he turned the vibrator back on, your second orgasm came ripping through you.

He stepped back, turning the vibrator off again and pulling off his gloves and doning new ones.

 You gasped loudly as a sharp smack was brought across your right ass cheek. He spanked you harder and harder until your ass was cherry red and you were whimpering and crying. 

He reached a gloved hand down and held your hand giving you a squeeze. You squeezed back twice, which was your signal to keep going.

"Good girl" he praised, which made you relax even more.

He reached between your legs with his other hand and found your clit. You were whimpering again

"That's it. That's my good girl. Are you going to cum a third time?" his voice was gentler this time.

It was almost getting too much and then you came hard. body was going limp, breathing was getting difficult due to the gag, but you felt good. 

Soft, gentle hands, skin to skin contact was stroking your temple, you opened your eyes to see your brown eyed dom's caring, soft eyes looking back at you. You gasped for air as the gag was taken out.

"Breathe, angel. I'm right here. You did so good. Such a good girl for me. I wanted to get the gag off first, okay?" he whispered

You just stared at him in a daze.

"Nod if you can hear me?" he said in a gentle, but firm tone. you nodded "Good girl. My good girl. I'm going to get the restraints off of you, now." 

His hand never left your body. Until he was undoing the restraints. He helped roll you on your side, grabbing another pillow and placing it under your head. 

Spencer sat down and placed his fingers on the pulse point of your wrist and looked at his watch. 

You whimpered and he looked at you, sympathetically, combing his fingers through your hair.

"I'm so proud of you, sweetheart." He soothed

Spencer leaned down and kissed your forehead. He grabbed the baby wipes and gently spread your legs, wiping you thoroughly. 

"There we go. Getting you all cleaned up, yeah?" you nodded

 He threw the wipes away praising you non-stop until he could hold you. He put the restraints under the bed and grabbed the warm fuzzy blanket you had and wrapped it around you. 

You had a mini fridge in the room and he grabbed some clementine's, Gatorade and dark chocolate.  Spencer had you sit in his lap, he cradled you and held up the Gatorade to drink.

Your head rested agaisnt his chest. You were feeling good, but still feeling a bit fuzzy.

"How are you feeling, sweetheart?" He whispered. 

"Mmm." You nuzzled against him. "S'good" you kind of slurred. 

He held a piece of clementine up to your mouth and you ate it. He had you a few more pieces and held the Gatorade up. He fed you some chocolate.

"Can I give you a massage, honey or do you need me to hold you a bit longer? I was rough tonight." He kissed your forehead.

"Longer" you said. He combed his fingers through your hair. 

"Okay, love. I love you so much"

"Love you" you said, clinging tight to him.

He held you tight, kissing your temple, rubbing a hand up and down your back. A few minutes later, you sighed.

"I have to pee" you blushed

Spencer helped you stand up. He stood up with you and you hugged him. He followed you to the bathroom.

"What'cha doing?" You teased as you sat down on the toilet "is this a new fetish?" You smirked and he laughed a bit.

"No. Sorry. Just wanted to be with you, in case you need anything." 

"I'm okay, Spencer" You smiled. "More than okay."

He nodded, leaving, letting you pee in peace. He cleaned up quickly, stripping the sheets. He smiled when you walked back in.

"So, where on earth did that come from, Dr. Reid?" You laughed . He shrugged, trying to play it cool, but smirked. 

"Just something I had thought of. I've noticed the way you look at my hands when I wear gloves. I was just waiting for you to say something."

"Oh my God!" You hid your face in your hands, laughing.

"It's okay, honey. I hope I didn't go too far? It was a lot." He looked worried.

You smiled wide and reached up, running your fingers through his hair. You stepped close to him and wrapped your other hand around his waist.

"Not too far. It was a lot, We haven't done something like that in a while, but I think we both needed it." you placed a gentle kiss on his lips and he smiled.

"Now, I'm not done taking care of you." he soothed. You nodded, looking exhausted.

Spencer led you to the bed and grabbed your water bottle and held it up to you. You took a few sips and he had you lay down on your stomach. 

He grabbed some cream, pumped it in his hands, rubbing it together. He rubbed it over your ass. You hissed at his touch, but relaxed instantly.

He moved and sat beside you, hands massaging your shoulders. You moaned, and he leaned down and kissed your neck.  

When you were relaxed, Spencer rolled you onto your back and stroked your hair.

"I'm so proud of you" you smiled half asleep.

"Thank you, sweetheart" he blushed.

Spencer got up and covered you up to below your chest with the fuzzy blanket. He quickly got out of his work clothes. 

"Spence?" You asked.

"Right here, baby. Just getting in my pajamas and then I'm going to get you dressed."

"M'kay"

Once he was charged, he grabbed your sweatpants and sweatshirt. He carefully removed the blanket and slipped your sweatpants on, then sweatshirt.

Spencer turned the lights off the overhead light, leaving the soft glow of the beside lamp. He climbed onto the bed, pulling you against him

He covered both of you up with the fuzzy blanket and stroked your hair.

Your eyes were closed, head resting against him. The two of you stayed in the comfortable silence. Eventually you fell asleep in his arms.

[itsacruelsummerbaby]

THE PATH WE CHOOSE

There’s a group of girls who only audit his class because of him–you’re one of them. But with you, there’s a pull, one he wants to resist so he can make you a proper student of his.

pairing: Spencer Reid x reader || tags: post-prison!Spencer, fem!reader, age gap, professor-student relationship || wc: 3.2k

It’s quite a big disappointment to find out you are only attending his classes as a guest to see him, not because you’re that interested in the topic. But he can’t be mad at you, he’s far too gone in a fantasy world to care about the why; all that matters is that you’re there, looking at him with those beautiful wide, shining eyes, occasionally biting on those rosy lips of yours.

What he would give to have a taste of them.

But then he manages to swim back to the surface from the depths of his thoughts, returning his focus on the class. The class that’s full of young women who are sitting in the front row with that dreamy look on their faces, admittedly auditing probably just to see him. Is his subject really so boring? To him, it’s everything but, yet the number of actual students is concerning. It’s easy to wonder what’s the point of this.

Surprisingly, he grew to enjoy teaching, which always makes him smile, because over ten years ago he would have freaked out in front of a crowd like this. But spending time with his second family taught him a lot, it evolved his social skills, so now he was truly in his element here. Not as much as he was in the BAU, but enough to think about this as a permanent thing after leaving the team.

Because sooner or later it will happen, he can’t do that job forever. It’s too demanding, it’s too dangerous, and maybe one day he will wish for a simple life that doesn’t involve serial killers. Yes, if he keeps teaching, he will talk about them, but at least he wouldn’t be actively hunting them. That’s better. Safer. And maybe he can finally think about having a proper relationship, about marrying someone one day, or even about having a child, maybe…

It would be with you.

Damn it, no, stop, he tells his brain as he leans back in the chair in the bullpen, pressing the heels of his hands to his forehead. He’s been having these same thoughts since he last saw you in class a week ago, repeating in his mind over and over and over again like a broken record, plaguing every moment of his days and nights. He can’t remember ever being so obsessed with another human being, which sometimes truly scares him.

There will be a day when you won’t show up. There will be a class that will be the very last time he sees you, and the thought scares him. But if he could convince you to attend his class officially, not just auditing it, then he would have more time to spend with you. And more time can give him the chance to show you just how good he could be to you.

Oh, come on, stop already, he practically yells at himself on the inside.

“Is everything okay?” Penelope’s cheerful voice is acting like a beacon that shows him the way back to reality, and when he looks over at her, refusing–or rather not really knowing how–to answer, she playfully boops his nose with the top of her pen. “Alright, genius, talk to me. What’s on your mind?”

“I’m just… It’s a student I can’t stop thinking about.” With a dramatic hum, she sits on the edge of his desk and twirls the pen in her hand as she waits for him to continue. “I’m not an idiot, I know perfectly well there is a group of girls who are only auditing my class because they think I’m “cute” as one proper student pointed out a few weeks ago,” he begins to explain.

Before he can move on, Penelope’s eyes widen as she gasps. “She’s one of them, isn’t she? Because she must be one of those girls, otherwise you wouldn’t have mentioned it,” she points out.

He closes his eyes as he leans back, then lets out an annoyed groan. It’s not directed at his friend, more like at the situation in general. Why can’t he simply forget you exist? It would make things so much easier, but no, his memory is forcing him to remember everything about you.

In the end, he looks back at his friend, but before he could say anything, she lets out a laugh. “Oh, wait, you actually like this girl, don’t you?” Penelope asks, leaning down so she can keep her voice down. “Oh, my God, this is so adorable. What’s her name? I want to know everything about her, and you know how good I am at this.”

That’s true; she’s the master of snooping around, finding out everything about people from behind the computer screen, and if she wants to help, who is he to stop her? Maybe she will find a dark secret that can finally make him forget about you, although deep down he highly doubts it could work.

Less than half an hour later he leans back in the swivel chair in Penelope’s office, staring at the ceiling as he tries to process what she has found out about you. There was no dark secret, not even a simple red flag, you’re just as perfect as you look. You have excellent grades, you’ve been playing lacrosse since high school, and you’re working at a vet clinic after school.

“She’s smart, kind, and pretty. So, if she’s not a student of yours, maybe you could ask her out,” Penelope suggests, earning a surprised look from him. “I know, I know, she’s a little younger than you–”

“A little?” Spencer asks with a doubtful edge to his voice.

“Listen, I’m saying this as your friend. There’s a girl who obviously likes you, one who’s probably intelligent enough to keep up with your beautiful brain, you should give this a chance. Just one date, that’s all.”

He exhales slowly as he thinks, trying hard to decide what to do. “Maybe you’re right,” he begins, and Penelope squeals from happiness, which he shuts down with a raised hand, “but she also seems interested in the class. She answers if I ask them a question, she’s taking notes, so if I can convince her to take the class properly, she might choose this career in the end.”

His friend only rolls her eyes. “Right. You really want her to choose her career over you?” she wonders.

Spencer nods. “She’s talented, it would be a shame if she wasted it just to be with me.”

“You’re my best friend, you know that, but right now you’re an idiot. Do what you want, don’t get me wrong, but in the end you’ll regret choosing this path with her,” she tells him with a shrug.

With a sigh, he looks up at the ceiling. Maybe there is no right choice, maybe it doesn’t matter what he does, the result will be the same. If he asked you out, then what? You can still say no and break his heart with that. “I’m screwed,” he mutters as he closes his eyes.

Don’t get too hooked on his stupidly handsome features and beautiful brain. 

As you’re sitting in your car in the parking lot, your forehead resting against the steering wheel, you keep repeating this sentence like a mantra. Maybe if you say it enough times, you will be able to resist his charm. 

Dr. Spencer Reid is the bane of your existence, the reason why you can’t sleep at night, why you’re losing your grip on reality. These days you’ve been daydreaming more and more often, imagining a life where he genuinely cares about you, where you’re his girlfriend. 

It’s ridiculous, you know it, and you should get him out of your mind, especially because he’s your professor. He’s off-limits. But how? You don’t know what could be the best solution, the medicine to your suffering. 

You’re knocked out of your thoughts by a sudden knock on the window. “Fuck,” you mutter with a groan.

Jonah is watching you with a huge smile on his face, even waving at you before signaling to get out of the vehicle. You inhale and exhale to push your previous thoughts aside, then open the door to do as he wishes. 

“Is everything okay?” he asks while you lock the car.

You nod, then begin to follow him towards the entrance of the building, feeling as your heart rate keeps crawling higher and higher. You don’t want to go to class, not today, not when you’re ovulating and have all those nasty thoughts about the guy who’s gonna talk in the next hour and half. 

“You know what I still can’t wrap my head around? Why are you attending Dr. Reid’s class?” he brings up the topic you would rather avoid. 

Since your answer isn’t the one he would probably like to hear, you just shrug. “I don’t know, maybe I just wanna know if I should take it next semester,” you lie.

But is it really a lie? 

He lets out a thoughtful hum while you both occupy your usual places in the second row. It’s close, but not too close. Just perfect. You take out your laptop from its case, but before you could open it, you freeze, because you can hear the chatter around you die, and you feel a pair of eyes on you–and it’s not your friend’s.

No, these are the beloved professor’s hazel eyes, and when you raise your gaze to meet his own, the murmurs around you fade away, making it feel like it’s just the two of you there. But it doesn’t last long, he quickly looks down at his watch, then claps his hands once to get the class’s attention. 

Half an hour later a chat message pops up on your laptop, and you glance at your friend when you see he’s the one who chose this silent way of communication. 

Jonah: Are you sure you’re not just trying to please Reid to get his attention by being active during class despite not going for the grades?  Jonah: No shaming, he’s good-looking in a nerdy way, I get it if you’re head over heels for the guy. You: I have no idea what you’re talking about. It’s an interesting topic, I can’t help myself. Also, he’s not my type.

A big fat lie. Bravo.

Jonah: Sure. 

Blowing out the air you’ve been subconsciously holding, you shake your head and return your attention to the lecture. It’s another anecdote, the story of a dangerous serial killer, a cannibal, no less. 

Jonah: Have you noticed that he keeps looking at you? Or am I just seeing this because we’re talking about him?

You shoot him an angry look, then simply close the messaging app. But he doesn’t give up, your phone starts buzzing, the screen lighting up to show you the previews of his messages.

During today’s class, Spencer often has a brief second when he forgets what he was talking about. It doesn’t last long, his students probably don’t even notice the brief break in his speech, but to him, this equals a disaster. He’s not like this, he doesn’t just trail off for no reason.

Well, okay, not for no reason. All he can think about whenever his eyes fall on you are Penelope’s words.

Is convincing you to take his class properly the right choice? She was right, he feels something, a pull that can’t be ignored that easily, and if a day when you’re not simply auditing his class comes, he would lose his chance to ask you out on a date. You would be his student, so he would have to face the consequences if he dared to make a move on you. 

But then he asks a question, and you’re one of the three students who bother to raise their hands. He doesn’t miss the way the young man on your right snickers at the sight of you being so involved, but he can also see you shoot a warning look at him. It’s hard not to wonder what this is all about, what previous conversation triggered this silent exchange–because there had to be a reason. 

In the next few milliseconds, he has to make a choice. Should he ask you? He wants to see if you got the answer right, but at the very same time he has his doubts about talking to you. 

He has never done that, and he has no idea what it would lead to. Would he simply fall deeper into this rabbit hole of emotions? Would his voice give away that he’s uncertain about everything when it comes to you?

In the end, he gathers the strength to say your name.

And you got it right. Oh, that beautiful brain of yours. 

Years of training led to an annoying habit, though. He instinctively profiles people in situations, just like he’s profiling you now while moving on with today’s lecture. He could hear that slight tremble in your voice which gave away that you were nervous–was it because you weren’t sure about the answer, or because you had to talk to him? 

For the rest of the class, he tries to focus on what he has to say, doing his best not to look at you, but it’s hard. The temptation is there, and after a while he finds himself scanning the crowd of students only for his gaze to linger a second too long where you’re sitting. When your eyes meet, you bite on your lower lip and look down at your laptop. 

He eventually dismisses the class, but then he opens his mouth and your name spills out without a warning. You look surprised, and for a moment he wonders if he made the right call. What should he bring up? His plan to convince you to take his class properly, or to ask you out on a date? 

Maybe this wasn’t his brightest idea. 

Every fiber in your body wants to run as far from him as possible. He’s a profiler–a really good one–he definitely notices simple things like someone having a crush on them. You’re not even sure if you can keep up a conversation with him for longer than a minute before your thoughts trail off, moving on to his sharp jawline you love so much. 

You’re only a visitor here, if he finds you have a crush on him, he might ask you not to come back. But how could you stay away when seeing him is like a drug, giving you the kind of sweet high that can recharge your batteries faster than anything? 

Your legs are shaking as you move closer to him, but you focus on your breathing. Inhale. Exhale. And again. And again. It can’t be that bad, it’s just a brief conversation. Yes, that’s what you have to focus on. Inhale. Exhale. And repeat. 

“Is everything okay?” he asks you when you get close enough. 

Nodding, you gulp and pull on the strap of your laptop bag over your shoulder. “Is something wrong, Professor Reid?” 

He hesitates for a moment, or so you think it’s hesitation, and then he licks his lips, a move that sparks your imagination. No, no, you shouldn’t think about what you want that tongue to lick, or what he must taste like. Stop, enough, you tell yourself. You take a deep breath as you wait, your heart beating so fast it might jump out of your ribcage.

“There’s something I don’t understand,” he begins as he folds his arms over his chest. “You’re taking notes, you’re interacting in class, you remember things, yet you’re only auditing this class. Why don’t you take it properly? You’re good, you would get good grades, or,” he says, but trails off.

What is it that he wanted to say? “Or?” you say, the words coming out before you could stop yourself.

Dr. Reid lets out a sigh as he rests his hips against the edge of his desk. “You have talent, you would be a good profiler,” he admits. 

That’s flattering, really, but not what you want to hear. 

“Look, why don’t you take my class next semester? Until then, you could join us for a summer internship at the FBI,” he suggests casually.

Your eyes widen from surprise, because that you haven’t expected. Wow, an internship? And what was that us? Did he mean the FBI in general, or his team, the BAU? If it was the latter, that would be the coolest thing ever. Except… 

Except you would spend more time by his side. Pure torture. 

You take a deep breath, then somehow manage to force yourself to look at him. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” At first, he gives you a surprised look, but then a barely visible smile appears on his lips as he nods. “Where do I apply for that internship?”

“I’ll help you from the inside and get everything ready. Hopefully you’ll only have to take care of the paperwork,” he explains. 

There’s something about his voice, the way it becomes just a tad bit higher, his speech speeding up more and more with each word he says, and there’s a slight tremble from either nervousness or excitement. If you didn’t know any better, you would say he sounds exactly like a guy who’s talking to his crush for the first time to ask her out. But could that be the case? It seems highly unlikely, it must be your imagination.

The offer is nice, though. You’re only doing this because it would be nice to work there.

Great. Now you’re lying to yourself too.

Back in his office, Spencer picks up his phone from the desk and looks for Penelope’s contact. It’s her fault, the least she can do is listen to his ramblings about what he’s just done. It rings once, twice, at the third ring he begins to wonder why she’s not picking up, but then he hears her cheerful voice and lets out the air he’s been holding. 

“Remember that girl from my class? I think I just promised to get her an internship at the BAU,” he says quickly. 

There’s silence on the other end of the line for a few moments, but then she goes, “Oh, Spencer, when I told you to ask her out, I mean dinner, or a movie, not a summer internship she can spend by your side.”

He lets his forehead hit the desk with a loud thud. “I’m an idiot.”

“When it comes to her? Yes, you are,” Penelope agrees, then lets out a sigh. “Okay, why don’t you come over tonight? We could order something to eat and watch a movie. And we can talk about her if you feel like it.”

“Sure,” he agrees, even though he just wants to crawl into a hole and die right now. 

[captaincrazycreative]

Not over Cait threatening to throw some guy in prison in front of her gf who was wrongfully imprisoned and tortured for a decade

[itsalwaysdark]

im back

[viro-lil-goat]

I really hope this reaches more people, I'm only reposting this information from Instagram, the least that I can do. (Update: I changed their upbringing as it appears to have been listed wrong) Wiki page

When I just saw this information I couldn't stop crying thinking about it, and now my heart aches. They were the same age as me, I know for a fact like any other teen they dreamt of their future, who they would want to become, what to achieve, create, wondering if they meet those in the future they can call friends, wondeting if it'll get better when they grow up, maybe wished to leave that terrible place or maybe wanted to stay. How could anyone let this happen, why were they discharged from hospital so easily? And the school, we all know why. I hate to think about how, even with all the progress made, these things still happen.

"murdered schoolgirl Brianna Ghey on February 16, 2023. Candlelit vigils are being held across the UK this week for Brianna Ghey, 16, who was stabbed at Linear Park in Culcheth, Cheshire last Saturday. Brianna was a transgender girl and police are now investigating her killing as a hate crime. A boy and girl, both 15, have been charged with her murder"

An article that explains trans hate crime murders as on 2023

I hate everyone who have ever committed such vile hate crimes, I wish them in prison and hell. But i would never go down to their level. But I also blame the government, the school, and even those bigoted online accounts that teach their followers hate. In this case LibsOfTikTok, who targeted the teacher of this school, who supports lgbtq+, so they had to leave their position. It must have been the push for this to happen. I think their tiktok account has been thankfully deleten. But i have no idea about Twitter or any other. Please check and mass report them if it still exists. (Link to Instagram reel that this information is from)

ADDITION, PLEASE MASS REPORT THESE ACCOUNTS

[lalunanymph]

GRASSLAND ROMANCE

SUMMARY the strongest tribal chieftain sets the stage to claim his most priceless reward

WARNINGS prisoner of war!reader, slave!reader, tribal chief!sylus, first time, fight-to-death-trope, concubine!reader, oral sex, breeding, mentions of lactating, size kink, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of misogyny, bartering, winning her favor trope, loosely based on the new sylus myth card, mdni, 18+

DAWN SAYS it's daddy sylus's time hehehe second one down, 2 more to go !! sylus is my ult bias and I definitely wanted to go for more of a khal drogo x daenaerys vibe when I started this out, so keep an eye out for bit of dark content discussed here... that being said, will be cross-posting this to a03 soon so stay tuned! <3

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── ZAYNE ⊱ XAVIER ⊱ RAFAYEL

The grasslands were not kind to those unfamiliar with its ways.

As a little girl, your grandmother would tell you stories of the fearless warriors traversing these bare lands in search of resources to plunder, steal and conquer. It instilled a sense of fear in you; a knowing instinct to never step out of line less you wanted to suffer the consequences of losing everything you loved.

The day you met Sylus was the day your short life came to its meaningless end.

Taken from your homelands to his tribe, you were relegated to cleaning tasks and cooking; trying to keep your head down and eyes off of you less you wanted to suffer fatal repercussions.

Your days living in sweet bliss were over; your childhood and girlhood gone in one fell swoop.

And yet, despite your best efforts to go undetected, you wound up catching the eye of the fearsome chieftain. His calls for you to his yurt could not be ignored.

You fully expected him to take advantage of your vulnerable state, using his position to conquer what remained of your dignity and hope. 

But, Sylus proved to be a different man behind his ruthless reputation.

A fan of music and wildland games, he often asked you to keep him company for the day, and when the nights got too cold, you were ushered into his private space, allowed to warm yourself with his brazier. 

The scent of moist rose and grapevine trimmings filled the air as you lounged right in Sylus’s arms, enjoying the warmth of his presence and the fire glowing brightly while snow and sleet raged outside of his yurt.

The fearless tribal chieftain was a relaxed man tonight, savoring the presence of his favorite concubine right in his lap. His large hands stroked your hair, fingers running through your locks. The robes he dressed you in were heavy yet comfortable, providing you shelter from the cold; a stark difference from the slave rags you were forced to wear during your earlier encampment. 

“What is on your mind, beloved?”

Beloved. Despite what everyone said or thought about you, Sylus saw you in a different light. A tender and cherished one.

You turned your head to gaze at him, a softness you reserved solely for him shining from your eyes.

“I was lost in my thoughts; thinking back to the time when I first got here.”

A dark look flitted across his face, and he fixed you with a prodding look.

“I know what happened was not ideal for you, beloved. But, you are safe now. I will not let anyone in this camp harm you.”

His promise was as good as gold in this world. Sylus was not someone who would mince words or give you false hope. Despite his stature as one of the most fearsome conquerors of this land, he was a man of integrity and word.

And yet… you couldn’t help the sadness eclipsing your features. 

The ceremonial choosing of his bride was coming up soon, and from the lines of women prepared for him, you paled in comparison. These women were trained from birth to please him, cook for him, and be the bearer of his children. They were thought in the grassland ways, something you were not familiar with.

The women chosen for him did not stick out like a sore thumb, nor were they foreigners of this land.

Each of them were meticulously handpicked to appeal to his tastes and desires; where you fit in, you had no clue. 

It wasn’t as if you were his tribe’s de facto pick. You were sure you weren’t on any of the elder’s lists, your fate relegated to being his concubine for life.

As if he could read your mind, Sylus tilted your face up to look him in the eyes. 

“Beloved, you are the only one for me. There is no one else in these lands I would rather spend my days with.”

You wanted to ask him why; what could possess a man like him to love a lowly woman like you?

But, you enjoyed his caresses on your cheeks and jaw; snuggled closer to him as the wind tore through the night, safe and secure right in his arms.

The next morning, you were pulled aside by one of the village elders, Enkh, as he looked you up and down. 

“My son needs a new wife after his old one died in childbirth,” scrutinizing you from head to toe, he fixed his beady gaze on you like a dishwasher studying a piece of vermin on a brass plate. “And you will do.”

The idea of being married to Enkh’s son, known as the most ruthless and cruel man in the entire tribe, filled you with unadulterated fear. You had no say in your fate, and spent the entire day wondering how to tell Sylus—the chieftain himself—of your dilemma.

But, you didn’t have to open your mouth and divulge the truth.

Sylus already knew.

He called you out to his tent, where some men who were sparring upped and left the second you arrived. In your hands, you held a pouch, given to you by Enkh’s wife before you left their yurt.

A symbol of choice for a woman about to be married, you were given explicit instructions to hand it to his son after his sparring win tomorrow. It was tradition for the winner to receive a wife as compensation, and from the thunderous look on Sylus’s face, you could tell he was not at all pleased about this latest development.

“They claimed you, just like that? Without my agreement?”

Despite not being his official concubine, everyone in the tribe knew of your position with the chieftain. You were virtually untouchable, and only higher up families like Enkh’s, could make the play for one of his concubine’s hands. 

This displeased your lover, who took it as an affront to his rule. 

But, he didn’t react the way you expected him to, with violence and malice as the forefront of his actions. 

Sylus led you to the heart of his yurt, where thick layers of felt and wool provided insulation from the chill. Dressed in traditional Bökh gear, he was preparing for the ceremonial sparring to begin when he heard word of your impending nuptials to Enkh’s son. He dragged you down to his side, letting you rest on the rugs and pillows surrounding the area before he shared what was on his mind. 

“Do you want to marry into that family, Y/N?” 

Instinctively, you shook your head. “No, Sylus.”

He nodded, pleased at your swift rebuke. “I am going to be honest with you—the only way we can circumvent both of our fates to marry different people is for me to participate in the fights myself.”

You gasped, wide-eyed at the revelation. “But, it’s unheard of. You are the chieftain!”

Rough fingers touched your face, caressing your cheek with a softness he only showed to you.

“I know, my beloved. But, think about the alternative. I do not want to lose you.” 

A grin stole across his handsome features, and he shot back: “If I lost, I’d be stuck here forever—in this limbo of never having you… but then again, could I really lose?” 

Unperturbed by his musings, you raised the stakes by straddling his lap, glaring down at him. In this position, he had to hear you out; he had to allow logic to take hold of his wilful mind. 

“Sylus, the rules of the game means that you have to steal the gem from your other opponent and then you can stake your claim. Are you sure you want to do this? You cannot back out once the games have started.”

The Grassland Festival, or the most important festivity for Sylus’s tribe that was happening in a few hours, was in tandem with the fighting ring for men to win the hands of their future wives. 

His red eyes, which shone like a grassland sunset, appraised your form astride his lap; soft and sure.

“My love, you severely underestimate my devotion to you.”

Turning your fates around, he flipped you back onto the soft pillows and rugs, a look of fond playfulness in those jewel-toned eyes.

“All I have to do is fight, yes? And I have never lost a fight.” 

His soft touch tucks a stray lock of your hair behind your ear. “You are the prize I must win, my love. I will do everything I can to make sure we stay together.”

Filled with happiness and the surety of his tone, you put your faith in what came next. 

Long and nimble fingers snuck to your waist pockets, where he retrieved the pouch given to you by Enkh’s family. 

“Hey—!”

You tried to reach back for it, but he held it from you, a smirk playing on his defined lips. 

“Is this what you are going to give the boy?” 

Warmth splashed across your cheeks as you tried to glare him down.

“Despite what you may think, you do not own every aspect of me, Sylus. I reserve the need to keep some secrets to myself.”

He hummed, clearly not believing you. “And yet, you spoke of the sincerity of our feelings. Isn’t this me being honest, little dove?” 

You sputtered, tripping over your refutes, and he rolled his eyes.

“Alright, love. Let me make it simple—”

He lifted you closer to him, letting you fall over his lap. The sudden proximity filled your senses purely with him; igniting sparks of heat across your entire body. 

“If someone were to hand the champion a pouch, should he take it?” 

He was teasing you, and it was clear he wasn’t planning to let up anytime soon. 

You huffed, trying to swipe it again. But, he was nimbler than you, yanking the pouch away from your outstretched hand. 

Sighing, you tried to pull him up, grumbling when you barely made him move an inch.

“Have you been training more?” You grumbled, eyeing his broad shoulders; the muscles stretching across his tanned skin. 

“Perhaps. Although as much as I have been honing my skills, I do still need someone to look out for me.” 

His smirk threatened to affect your entire composure, and you darted your eyes away, flushed and embarrassed at how easily he could get to you. 

The faith you had in him to win was astounding; there was a reason why he was known as one of the best warriors in the grasslands. 

“You’re the champion,” you grumbled under your breath. “Do you need me to watch your back?”

In response, Sylus’s smile softened around the edges, his red eyes taking on a tender quality. 

“Let me paint you a scene, love: I win the challenge, and then I get to be yours. How does that sound?” 

Tugging a stray lock of hair which fell loose from your braid, Sylus waited for your answer patiently. 

It was useless to try and dispute him. Whatever the strongest wanted, he would get—and he clearly wanted you. 

“Alright,” you responded softly, conceding with a smile. “If you win tomorrow, I will hand you my pouch. There is nothing you cannot do.”

Responding to your confidence, he chuckled softly, teasing you more by dragging you closer to him, enjoying your weight pressing onto his body.

“Or, we could do it together.”

He hummed, touching the hollow of your throat with his cool lips. Your eyes fluttered shut, trying to staunch your reckless sounds.

“The second I get that gem, you run up to me, crowning me as your chosen one and I respond back.”

Struggling to control your raging thoughts, you murmured: “Will it work—such boldness?” 

To answer your question, he smirked, finding your flustered expression and slight doubt adorable. 

“My, my, love. Are you doubting me?” 

The world flipped around, and suddenly you were thrown over his shoulder. You gasped, confusion mingling with surprised delight as Sylus manhandled you with practiced ease. He stepped past the plush pillows and rugs, opening the flap of his yurt to bring you out into the mellow morning. 

“Wh-what are you doing?” Your sharp inhale spurred on his laugh, his low and rich chuckle making you flush warmly. 

“Didn’t you tell me this before, love? Actions speak louder than words.” To your mortification, he was heading right to the middle of the courtyard, where spectators were already gathering to witness the fight. 

“Sylus—!”

You smacked his broad shoulders, but he wouldn’t let you down. Sylus already had a plan in mind and you were helpless to stop him. 

“Oh, love, relax,” he teased, taking long, purposeful strides towards the other villagers. “I need to show them I already have a lover. And since she won’t let me take her away…” you could plainly picture his cocky smirk. “... I’ll just have to take her myself.” 

The rest of the villagers stopped in their tracks when they noticed their chieftain walking towards them, a smaller woman in his arms. Elders dropped what they were doing to whisper under their breaths, their judgemental eyes trained on Sylus’s smug face and the look of mortification on yours.

“Sylus—”

He set you down in the front stand, tossing you a wink for good measure.

Whispers rushed around the arena like wildfire, catching aflame from the look of pure devotion in his eyes; a look reserved just for you. 

Enkh’s son, a hulking brute by the name of Altan, shot him a glare—insulted by Sylus’s blatant claim on you.

Motivated by his wrath, the tribal chief turned to the other man, raising a brow. 

“Altan, son of Enkh!” 

His voice boomed across the field, shocking you out of your mortified stupor. 

“You dare claim one of my concubines as your wife? Do you know what that entails?”

The atmosphere in the arena tilted towards a frenzy, the people inadvertently roped in to witness the showdown of the year.

Since ceremonial rites were read and sacrifices were made, the last agenda for today would be the warrior fights. Sylus took his spot in the ring, unafraid. The head monk, a calm man by the name of Bataar, whispered something to Enkh, who glared at you as if this entire ordeal was your fault.

You shrank back in your seat, attempting to hide your scorching cheeks behind your palms.

The fight began, and it was clear from the onset that it would be an unfair one. Sylus, whose expertise and years on the field, easily overpowered Altan, pinning him to the ground. A horn blared, and the winner was declared.

A stirring eagerness and relief moved you from your seat, and you didn’t care for customs or etiquette when you ran across the ring, jumping right into his open arms. Sylus lifted you off your feet with ease, spinning you around, his laughter mingling with yours. 

In his palm, he held the priceless gem he stole from Altan’s belt— a symbol of his opponent’s virility. Its capture meant that he had won the other man’s intended bride fair and square. He handed it to you, and right in front of his entire people, you proudly proclaimed your acceptance of his proposal—slipping the jewel right inside of your pouch and handing it to him. 

Triumphant, Sylus took your offered gift, tucking it in the lapels of his leather harness with a contented grin. 

The tribe elders were helpless to stop their strongest from claiming you, as was the custom of these rituals. 

Sylus had no hesitation when he slung you over his shoulder again, a conqueror who had rightfully won his beloved. 

He didn’t care if whispers of your status or his incredible defiance towards the elders would reach his ears; all Sylus could think about now was savoring this priceless reward he fought hard to obtain.

Bringing you back to his yurt, Sylus let the flap fall close behind him, a clear signal to the rest of the tribe that he intended to enjoy his winnings in peace.

Your back met the soft pillows and rugs, his broad build blocking out the rafters letting in warm morning sunlight; lost in the depths of his jewel-tone eyes.

They shone like precious rubies, far more valuable to you than any material item in this world. 

The feel of your palm stroking his cheek, your fingers playing in his hair, suddenly made his stomach twist into hard knots. They were impossible to unravel, a bowline loop which went on for eternity.

His breathing turned ragged, gaze going soft as he looked at you—really took you in.

The sight of his beloved—his bride—right here in his home, about to be taken and claimed by him, set his nerves ablaze more than any war cry ever could. 

Sylus moaned unabashedly when you tangled your fingers in his hair, bold enough away from the prying eyes of others to fall prey to the undeniable attraction you’ve felt for him since the first time you saw each other.

He lets you bring him in for a kiss, your lips sweeter than wildberry dew.

“Sylus…”

The possessive need to claim you flared in him when you called out his name.

Smoldering attraction turned into a wild, untameable blaze, threatening to consume him whole. 

Due to his rugged nature, he never had a woman this close to him, her touch a balm to his rough edges.

In your arms, Sylus was more than the fearsome tribal chieftain whose name could strike fear in any man’s heart. 

He was wont to your desires, an instrument of your love.

“Please,” you licked your lips, and his eyes followed the gesture with a blatant look of desire. “Kiss me.”

You didn’t have to ask him twice. Sylus captured your lips in a deep and passionate kiss, swallowing your moans whole.

Your tinier fingers in his hair tightened, bringing his body closer onto yours. He fought back a shiver from the force of his desires as his body covered yours completely, trapping you beneath him under his weight.

“My love, you are playing a dangerous game,” he growled, adoring how fragile and small you felt under his hulking mass.

Dragging your hands down the slope of his shoulders, you felt his muscles rippling under your touch; his broad frame and the layers of sinew forming his brawny build leaving you lightheaded.

“Oh, my love. The sight of you underneath me, looking so vulnerable and lovely,” his voice dipped lower, a hoarse edge taking over it. “... it’s driving me wild.”

Shying away from such a bold declaration, you bit your lower lip. “Sylus, will it hurt?”

Sensing you were speaking about the act of copulating, he took your hand, rubbing circles on your palm. 

“A little, but it is nothing you cannot handle. Besides, I will be with you through it all—I will not hurt you, my love.”

The idea of a ruthless tribal leader like him, promising some young slave girl that he would be gentle with her, was so far-fetched from your idea of what a conqueror was that you began to relax in his presence.

You trusted Sylus because he has proven time and time again how your comfort and safety were his priorities.

Especially when he was this close to claiming you.

Steady yet hasty hands slowly unraveled the lapels of your thick coat, his breaths tumbling out in silent huffs. Sylus’s large palms were warm—far too warm on your chilly body.

The great chieftain was a silent, nervous wreck when he glanced down at his beloved, watching her with soft eyes and reaching out to her with an even softer touch. 

“Sylus… please.” 

The cadence of his name on your tongue will never not be the sweetest thing he's heard in his life. 

You returned the gesture, removing his leather gauntlets, slowly stripping him off his warrior bravado to reveal the sweet and gentle man underneath.

“Please, what?” He whispered against your throat. Outside, the cool breeze rattled the rafters, but inside his yurt and in his arms, you were warmer than a butterfly in spring. 

You seized, back arching when he kissed a tender path from your neck to your bare chest. 

The sight of your hardened nipples and smooth curves whipped through him like a frenzy, and Sylus grew impossibly hard at the image of your sweet body, swollen with child.

His child.

The fantasies of your breasts filling up with milk, the slope of your belly gently curving with the promise of his heir… 

 His thin patience was hanging by a thread.

Sylus shrugged off his sheepskin pants, tossing it to the side of the yurt as he quickly worked on the lapels and hooks of your clothing. 

Once your smooth body was bare to him, Sylus’s gaze softened, his tone almost reverent when he said:

“You look beautiful, my beloved.”

You had not imagined your wedding night (or, in this case, morning) to be a tender affair.

Where every brutish belief you once held towards his people melted away with every tender touch of this gentle chieftain.

Sylus propped a pillow under your hips, careful to lean his full weight onto you. Your eyes fluttered shut, a moan seeping past your swollen lips when you felt his tongue glide across your breasts, taking his time to play with and suck on your nipples.

His mouth moved down your body, teasing you with whispery kisses.

Parting your thighs wide, you realized a second too late what he was doing until he slotted himself in between; mouth pressed to your pelvis.

“Sy—”

The protests fizzled out the second you felt his tongue parting through your folds, tasting the effect he had on you.

Low whimpers slipped past your mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair.

Sylus… mhmm… s-stop—

But, he didn't relent. He glanced up at your flushed face, shaking his head. 

You can take it, beloved. Can't you? For me?

It wasn't the reluctance that set you back but the shame of such an intimate experience.

You had never experienced a man this close to your sensitive parts; the idea of him in this position itself was too much to bear. You should be worshiping him, not the other way around.

But, Sylus refused to listen to your pleas and moans—hellbent on pleasuring you.

His tongue traced patterns on your clit, drawing out more of your high-pitched whines. There was little doubt whoever passed by the yurts could hear your pleasured sighs. 

Sylus couldn't care less.

He wanted the whole tribe to know you were his;  that he had chosen you and you had chosen him.

His tongue delved deeper into your core, tasting your excitement. Some of it stained onto his face, his chin drenched with your juices.

Your hips rocked to the rhythm his tongue set, your moans reaching fever pitch.

Good girl. That's it. Show me how much you want it.

Sylus murmured, working you through your cresting pleasure.

It came like a rising high within you, soaring higher than any eagle could as you crashed to the ground, screaming his name.

Sylus tightened his grip on your thighs, doubling down on his efforts. Your mess stained his cheeks, his chin, driving his desire to a burning point.

He worked his way up your body, leaving kisses on every inch of skin his mouth could reach.

Finally reaching your lips, Sylus poured every bit of his devotion for you into this heated kiss, swallowing your moans and letting you taste him on his tongue. Strings of saliva connected your lower lip to his, hanging by a tenuous thread.

The heat of your cheeks would have burned you alive, the tension between your bodies rising to a feverish pitch.

Tenderly, he nudged your thighs to wrap around his defined waist, opening you to be taken by him.

The first stretch was accompanied by his lips on yours, coaxing you to relax and open up to him.

That is it… good girl… taking me so well…

The deeper he sank in, the more loud he was with his praise.

I adore you… you sinful, sweet girl… take me… take me good… 

Sylus!

Your cries reverberated across the sheepskin walls. It felt like drowning, your body sinking deeper into the plush woolen pillows.

Oh, oh… oh, right there…

He licked into the heat of your mouth, tracing the ridges of your teeth. 

There? Does it hurt? Do I make you ache?

Yes, you responded deliriously. Yes, yes and yes.

It was the kind of pain you could never forget, yet you desired it all the same. A masochistic plea of your body to be devoured and conquered.

Sylus raised himself up on his forearms, the bulging, rock hard muscles rippling with every exertion; his thrusts almost knocking you backwards if it weren't for his tight grip on your hips.

Every collision of his cock against a spot deep inside of you made your toes curl; leading you closer towards your desperate end.

Sylus—can't… close… 

It felt like a ball of tension growing bigger and tighter, growing uncontrollably hotter with every thrust, every heated whisper of his praise against your ear.

Sylus nipped your jaw, tracing his tongue against the curve of your lower lip.

His gentle insistence, coupled with his brutal thrusts made your body run hot and cold.

Goosebumps erupted across your skin. You were growing dizzier and hotter.

You gasp—fuck, fuck, this is too much—and he tells you just take it, darling.

Take it for me.

He nipped Your earlobe, pushing deeper against your body. 

Does it feel good? Are you close? 

Squeezing your eyes closed, you nodded.

Yes, Sylus… almost… 

Good, he traced his tongue across the heated Seam of your mouth.

Give it to me, darling. Let go for me.

One request. You gave into him.

“Yes, yes,” you shuddered, digging your heels into his lower back. 

Sylus groaned, expressions contorting into painful bliss when your walls contracted around him.

He worked you through them, letting you stab your nails into his broad back.

That's it, darling. Give it to me. Come undone for your husband. 

Husband. 

Husband. 

The word sent an unrestrained quake straight through your soul.

Yet, the reality was far sweeter.

Sylus slumped on top of you, spent after releasing ropes of warmth deep inside your quivering cunt.

Languidly, he rolled you onto his chest, skin pressed to warm skin. You were spent, soaked and still wrapped around him.

The act of consummation was over. You finally belonged to him.

And for the test of his days, Sylus would make sure to show you how much you mean to him; going above and beyond to declare his love. 

“I love you,” he slurred into the heat of your throat. “Always have. And from the very beginning.” 

You nestled closer into his side, feeling safe in the warmth of his arms, finally allowing yourself to embrace the reality of this powerful man’s infatuation with you. 

Amidst the vast and intimidating grasslands, you had ensured your survival as the feared chieftain's wife, with Sylus unwaveringly by your side.

© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost on other websites and claim as your own. do not feed my content to AI.

[lilacgaby]

prohero!bakugo but you, his wife, were kidnapped.

you sat in a dark room, the dripping of water the only sound you heard. your eyes were blindfolded, your hands restrained behind your back as you were bound to a pipe on the floor. the smell of blood filled your nostrils and you resisted the urge to gag.

"she's awake." a strange, gnarly voice you never heard before said, before ripping the blindfold of your eyes, a different man beside him shining a flashlight directly into your face.

you didn't wanna know what you saw in the corner of your eye, unmoving and surrounded by a puddle. but you were broken out of your thoughts by a voice:

"so, girlie, wanna tell us what your husbands weakness is? he put a bunch of our gang in prison some while ago, so we want him dead." a guy with a scar across his face questioned.

as you stayed silent, he pulled your hair, yanking your head forwards to look at him. "answer me, and we won't have to get ugly."

you glared at him, your eyebrows scrunching in annoyance, "no way, eat shit and die." at your words, the man slammed your head against the wall brutally, leaving a dent in the wall, and your head bloodied.

"looks like you'll be trouble huh? i'll ask you again, what's your husbands weakness?"

as you again refused to answer, the other man slapped you across the face. "maybe his next wife will learn to listen. but we'll keep you alive for a bit longer, maybe you'll have a change of heart."

they stood back, admiring their work on you. your nose was broken now, the smell of your own blood apparent to you now as it dripped over your face. your head was pounding as you struggled to stay awake.

"katsuki.." you muttered wearily under your breath, making the two men laugh at you. as you fought off tears off pain.. or was it embarrassment? you didn't know as the two feelings started to blur together.

you knew you just had to hold on. just for a second longer, he'd come for you. the tears dried up but her will didn't, even as the hours passed with no sign of katsuki.

"did your little husband forget you girl? guess you weren't as precious as we thought." the men laughed.

"y-you're wrong. he's coming, and you'll regret this." you mustered, making the men smirk. "oh yeah?"

"fuck yeah." a voice echoed through the compound, accompanied by the sound of a concentrated explosion blasting through the walls.

one of the men, shook up by his sudden appearance, and look of pure unadulterated anger, tried to run off. the other grabbed you, trying to use you as a shield for his next explosion, but katsuki just used it as an opening for a direct hit, sending him flying into the other man, rendering them both useless.

katsuki then ran over to you, untying you from your confines, and looked over you, gently grabbing your face in his hands. "shit, babe.. 'm sorry."

"you came.. i knew you would."

he took you into his arms, getting you back to safety. after this, he'd never want to let you out of his sights again, he just felt so worried, so anxious for what could happen.

but as you two held eachother, the thoughts and fears were all calmed by the feeling of your bodies in tandem.

[princesssmars]

you sometimes forget how… slightly obsessive, violet could be. nsfw.

when you were younger you had a love hate relationship with her tendency to become so completely fixated on something. staying up for hours at night thinking about their next score, holding a grudge for years against anyone who got piss drunk and pissed off vander in the bar, planning and fidgeting over the perfect way to ask you out for weeks before you finally took the step yourself.

even if it got her into danger, got her and her siblings into a temporary struggle that made your heart stall with the thought of nearly losing them, you always reminded her that you thought her fixation on things was cute, and a useful tool about half of the time.

(you even said that the trait reminded you of powder, always blabbering to you for as long as she could talk about her new ideas for gadgets and bombs. the girl was overjoyed in sharing something in common with her big sister, immediately climbing on her back to ramble about something new.)

but then you actually you lost her. you lost all of them. and you wished you had told her that that insecurity she had, all the insecurities she had, were stupid and inconsequential to how perfect you thought she was.

but maybe you’ll get the chance to tell her (and tell jinx that yeah, you were right, i did start seeing ghosts too) because a scarily realistic replica of your ex is standing in front of you and before you can shoo it away she’s hugging you so tight you think your ribs will break.

you follow as ekko gives her the tour of the firelights base, admiring each and every way she’s changed. she’s taller, obviously stronger, wearing a prison uniform that you don’t if you’re allowed to say looks good on her and a red jacket she stole from some guy because of course she did. you stifle a laugh as she tells the story and she smiles at you, indiscreetly wrapping your hand in hers.

it’s obvious by the look on his face ekko is so going to tease you about this later, but you don’t get a chance to care when she turns to you and ask where she and her enforcer friend can sleep. and janna knows you want to offer for her to sleep with you, but it’s been years and you don’t want to make her uncomfortable so you lead her and caitlyn to the newbie dorms.

but it seems like you’ve forgotten just how damn stubborn she is, because not even half an hour later a loud banging at your draws you from your bed, her flushed and nervous face shocking you into silence.

she asks to come in, but with her it’s always more like a demand then a question. you try to ignore the burning feeling of her eyes trained on you as you lead her to your bed, rolling your eyes as she aggressively flops back onto it.

“holy fuck, i haven’t been on something this soft in years. i think i’m gonna fall asleep right now.”

“i wouldn’t be mad if you did.” well, you’d be a little upset. you have so much to talk to her about everything, anything that’s happened since she disappeared. granted a lot of it was bad but there were still a few things you think would cheer her up. she’d already told you enthusiastic she was to eat jerichos again, just wait till she found out that-

you must of zoned out for a minute because you’re shocked back to reality by soft lips pressed to yours, vi’s bandaged hand cupping your cheek like you’ll fade into dust if she lets go. you mentally kick yourself in the head for not responding quicker when she pulls away and looks at you with that sad puppy look she gets.

“i, i’m sorry. it’s just, you were staring at me for a while! and it’s been so long since i’ve seen you and i don’t even know what we are or if we’re still girlfriends but you’re even more beautiful than the last time i saw you-“

you cup both of her cheeks in your hands,(maybe a little too hard) give her a second to back away if she wants, and pull her back in. her arms wrap around your waist and she lets out a whimper when your hand travels to the back of her neck to pull her closer and closer-

and now it’s around one hour? maybe two? it’s a while later, and as her hand travels back into you for the fourth time, yeah, you’re starting to remember how obsessive she could be.

“vi, baby - oh my gods, y’know you can slow down!” your voice pitches when her fingers, her beautiful long and big fingers push up against that spot inside you, her other hand keeping your hips down when you involuntarily raise them off the sheets.

“don’t think i can, princess.” she groans into your breast as she sucks another path of bruises down your chest, slate eyes amused at how your hands grip the bed like it stole from you, how your mouth opens so cutely before you bite your lips to hold back your sounds.

her mouth finally closes around your clit and the increased sensitivity from your past orgasms combined with the almost growling sound she makes when she tastes you sends you right over the edge, thighs clamping around her head as she carries you through it.

the rubbing of her rough hands over your thighs and her gentle words of praise merry drag you into the beginnings of a soft slumber.

until you can feel the damn brute lift your legs onto her shoulders and stick her tongue inside you, laughing at your shocked squeal and resumed grip on her hair.

“besides, we’ve gotta make up for lost time, don’t we?”

writing a drabble based on the fic you’re writing instead of finish the fic i’m such a genius like 😍😍 glad her tag is coming back but i want content coming out like a factory line ok everyone get to work 🙏🏽

[darylbae]

there’s just smth about daryl seeing you injured maybe a broken leg or even an amputated one from a bite and limping, someone holding you up as you walk. he’d almost run over to you and pick you up.

a dumb idea — daryl dixon 🩰

in which you were injured on a run, and daryl can't bare to see you that way without helping.

Rick had chosen you for a run, not alone, but for you to go. He'd seen you were quick, efficient with your melee weapons, and were probably one of the best choices. You were joining Rick and Glenn, Daryl having to sit this one out by Rick's orders. He hadn't cleared the prison in full yet, so he wanted Daryl back here to keep watch. Daryl and you weren't exclusively a thing, neither of you had spoken about it at all, but everyone else could see it was waiting to happen. You were currently just really good friends hiding your feelings for each other, or at least thinking you were hiding your feelings for each other. You were sat in the backseat of the car, happily talking to Glenn as the car rolled towards the gates. You glanced out the window to see Daryl, sulking at the gate yet picking his arm up to wave at you. You returned the gesture, a sweet smile on your face that Daryl had become addicted to. One of the many addicting things about you.

Your positive-for-the-end-of-the-world attitude had come to an end when you'd ran into a building to find some cover, the darkness of the building rendering you blind as your leg had been impaled by a broken bit of a glass shelf. You let out a cry, falling to your feet as Rick and Glenn rushed over to assist you. "You good?" "What happened?" Rick had turned a flashlight to your leg, seeing your jeans ripped and stuck to your leg with the amount of blood. You almost passed out at the look of it, the glass had lodged itself in there pretty snug. "We need to get her back, now," Rick demanded, wrapping an arm around your back and coordinating with Glenn to get you safely to the car. Rick had taken his shirt off and tied it around your leg above the wound, before beginning the drive back to the prison. Glenn had trained his eyes on you and your leg for most of the drive, making sure you were still alive and not dying back there. The drive felt like hours, you felt like closing your eyes but Glenn was adamant on talking to you. Telling you about Maggie, telling you about how sweet Daryl seems to be around you, and you knew it was a distraction tactic, to keep you awake and not looking at your completely blood soaked shin.

You heard the rattle of the gates as they'd slid open for the car, and you felt a short burst of relief to be back. "Dar..." You managed to speak, wincing as Rick had reached for your hand to pull you out. "Daryl." Rick and Glenn had their arms under yours, carrying most of your weight for you. Until Daryl had heard the commotion and come out to see what the fuck people were shouting for.

Daryl saw you. Your leg, completely red from the knee down, being assisted into the prison. He wanted to help, he wanted to ease your pain even just a little. Dropping his crossbow to the ground, he'd paced over to you, relieving Glenn and Rick of their duties. "It's okay, I got ya," he cooed, "I got 'er," he'd lifted you, arms clinging to you as he led you to the cell block. "It's okay, sweetheart." Your blood loss wasn't fatal, thankfully, but Herschel was about to have you on the mend in no time.

You'd been allowed to rest, peeling your eyes open after having slept a while. The first thing you were aware of was the pain in your leg, which was thankfully still there. It was still light outside, so it must not have been long at all. A bottle of water and some pain meds were sat at your bedside, and you'd desperately taken them in order to ease your pain. "There's my girl." You heard, and Daryl had entered your cell and sat at your side. "How's the leg?" You chuckled. "It's seen better days." You could've sworn you'd spotted a smile on his face for a moment. "Were you scared? Did you think I was gonna die?" You teased, poking his arm and smiling innocently up at him. "No," he answered, "you're a fighter. I know that." There was something he was keeping to himself, you could see it in his brain. Almost as if he wasn't allowing himself to say it. It had been a tough process even getting to a friendly level with him, he had always kept his feelings to himself. But you liked to believe you were making progress with him, you wanted to. "What's on your mind?" You asked sweetly, your voice like honey, and he was addicted. God, he was addicted. He wanted nothing more than to have you night and day, for breakfast, lunch and dinner. But he didn't know the first thing about flirting, or even dating. "Nothin," he grumbled, and you sighed dramatically. "Come on, Daryl," you exclaimed, "talk to me. I need some sort of stimulation for my brain." Your voice was light, but you meant it. He paused, almost debating whether or not to say it. "I just care about ya, is all. When I saw ya bein carried in, my mind just stopped and all I wanted to do was make sure you were okay. Told Rick it was a dumb idea." You smiled, poking his arm again. "You care about me, that's sweet. I care about you, too." He grabbed your hand as it made contact with his arm, and just held it between his own. This was his way of expression, to show you how he felt without ruining it with his words. The pair of you just sat in silence, hands interlaced, a stupid grin on both your faces as you stared at each other. Adrenaline was pumping through your veins, a wave of confidence taking over you as you leaned up and pressed a small kiss to his cheek. Once Daryl had registered what you'd done, he'd turned his head, closing the small gap between you both for a delicate kiss. He was so gentle, his hands still holding yours firmly, and you wanted to do this forever. "I hope that speaks better than I do." He admitted, and you just laughed, resting your head on your shoulder. "Now get some rest, I don't want to see ya on your feet for the rest of the day."

[evellynssocbrainrot]

Kaz and Inej are the touch-repulsed ship, but it's crazy how touchy they still get in the books.

In Six of Crows

Kaz can reveal one-half of his naked body to Inej, and that is a fuck ton of skin (This isn't really touching, but it's still important)

Kaz had to carry Inej bridle style, in his arms, which meant that their bodies were PRESSED, her side to his front and they stayed like that for a while

Kaz and Inej were sitting pretty close together when Kaz went to talk to her after she recovered a bit from her injury, and then Kaz proceeded to wonder what would happen if he got closer

Kaz and Inej were pressed shoulder to shoulder during the prison wagon ride and stayed like that long after Kaz had woken from fainting

Inej woke Kaz up after he fainted by POKING HIM IN HIS THIGH!!! (I am infinitely jealous of her)

*INEJ*WORE*KAZ'S*GLOVES* (Not really touching, but still extremely important)

Kaz gripped Inej's wrist and felt her pulse

Inej touched Kaz's cheek skin to skin, and he withstood for a fair while

Kaz gripped Inej's hand during the "How will you have me?" scene, AND INEJ SQUEEZED HIS HAND BACK!!! T_T

When Inej falls in the end, after she killed the squaller that was trying to kidnap her, Kaz RAN BLINDLY to her without LOGIC OR PLAN in the hopes of CATCHING her

In Crooked Kingdom

When Kaz rescued her from Van Eck, there is a small and supremely slept-on moment in which Kaz INTENTIONALLY touched his fingers to the top of her upper arm, and Inej, the girl who flinches when her best friend hugs her, was COMPLETELY relaxed

Kaz canonly daydreams about touching Inej's hair :3 (No touch, but INSANELY STUPIDLY ADORABLE)

I know y'all have read the bathroom scene, but let me remind you of the things they did

Inej was near a guy while having her shoulders and her arms exposed, this is big for her

KAZ WAS STANDING BETWEEN HER LEGS!!!! HER KNEES WERE FRAMING HIS BODY, HE WAS SUPER CLOSE TO THE CIRCLE OF HER ARMS AND HER WAIST

AT SOME POINT, KAZ BROUGHT HIS ARMS AROUND HER ON THE BASIN

KAZ STARED AT INEJ'S PULSE SEVERAL TIMES

HEEEE KIIIISSSEEEDDDD HHHHEEEERRRRR NNNNEEEECCCKKKKK, the same spot at which Inej was kissed by clients

After Kaz took his revenge on Pekka and after he explained his "child burying" scheme to Inej, he extended his hand AND HELPED INEJ UP, and after that, their hands were still joined (It is a CRIME that this scene was removed in the show, Freddy and Amita would have KILLED it)

The skin-to-skin hand-holding at the end of the book, in which their hands stayed like that for a good while, need I say more??

When Inej saw her parents, she was about to FALL, AND KAZ BRACED HIS BODY AROUND HERS TO STABILIZE HER!!!

As you can see, I still have not recovered from Kanej

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

just imagining that the thought Vi has with how Jinx treats the reader (season 2 bc they think powder is really gone) makes her think that powder is still in there somewhere. Random thought while writing this, what if like how people say ‘if something bad keeps happening there will be good eventually’ so I like to think that Jinx has the reader who for some reason is never killed or anything. Just Jinx’s one good thing. Lol

Idk if this is a request but it inspired me

If ya want listen to Wildflower by Billie Eilish for this cause it also inspired me

Wildflower

During season 2, Vi felt all hope for Powder still being in there fading away

She loved her sister more than anything and she wanted nothing more than to get back to hurt during her time in prison

But when she got out and saw what her sister has become, what she helped her sister become, it aches deeply in her heart

To see her sister root herself so deeply as Jinx, the way her mental state has depleted so much, and how much her sister has changed hurts

It’s so hard that after episode 9 where Jinx blows up the council, Vi finds herself giving up entirely

She forced herself to accept that Powder is gone and all there is now, is Jinx

She denies her sister being there cause if Powder was still in there, why would she show herself to her big sister?

Why would she hide herself from Vi?

Vi only knows Powder is in there when Jinx is with you

She sees Powder in the way Jinx holds your hand

Vi sees Powder with the way Jinx runs to find you, how she’s always looking for you in a fight or how she’s always having your back

Be it you met in childhood or after she was taken in by Silco, Jinx and you were stuck together like glue

Vi could tell Powder was still in there with the grin Jinx gave you when you smiled at her, the grin reserved for you when you entertained her sister and asked her questions about her gadgets and weapons

She sees Powder in the small pour in Jinx’s lip when you reprimand her softly, scolding her out of care

The way Jinx cradles your hand, the fear in her eyes when she thinks you have gotten hurt

She hears Powder as well in the giggles you manage to pull out of Jinx

In the way her sister shields you from harm, the way her hand is always seekin yours or how you’re never far from Jinx

In the way Jinx protects you and never leaves your side

She sees glimpses of Powder day in and day out whenever she sees the girl

But it’s never because of her, because of Vi, Jinx’s sister

No, Powder only shines through when she was with you

Powder came out when it was safe, and Vi knew that

Powder found a home with you and in your heart, and Jinx accepted that and accepted that part of herself when she was with you

And Vi hated it

She hated how hard her heart aches when she sees her sister so willingly herself when with you

Not her

And she knows why, she knows how you held Powder and Jinx in the palm if your hand

How you loved the both of them, how you’d take both parts of Jinx and cherish them all the same

Powder or Jinx, you loved her

Hates how Powder melts away and hides the moment she makes eye contact with Vi, the grin of her sister and wiping and storing itself away to wherever she stores what was only meant for you

She looks so happy and alike to the girl she knew

Only. With. You.

[pedrospatch]

conflicted

Raider! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: Your captor gives you a bath. You have some conflicting feelings when he touches you.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. RAIDER ERA. DARK!JOEL. DUBCON. also tagging elements of NONCON just to be on the safe side. UNSPECIFIED AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 50). READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION. mentions of Joel’s group murdering reader’s group, Joel killed her father, mention of blood, Joel pretty much kidnaps reader and keeps her as his own. pet names (baby, babygirl, honey, pretty girl, little girl), daddy kink, very minimal editing.

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS.

if this isn’t your thing, that’s fine, just scroll on by.

word count: <1k

a/n: this is a bit less than a blurb. a blurb of a blurb. a blurbette, if you will. i shelled it out in like less than an hour. to me it is part of the captive universe, but can be read as a standalone! please be advised that this is not fleshed out at all, i just felt like writing something that didn’t require too much brain power.

He pours one last pail of hot water into the tub.

“How’s the water?” he asks you.

His voice is so deep. Rich, like molasses. 

It’s also laced with a southern accent, you’d noticed.

Aware he’s still waiting for an answer, you shrug.

He tries again. “S’not too hot, is it?”

He had ordered one of the women in the group to start a fire and boil water collected from the stream they had stumbled upon just a mile south of the small cottage.

“Seriously, Joel?” Angela had glared at him. “I am not a fucking maid.” Hands planted on her hips, she foolishly added, “If I’m gonna haul and boil water for a bath, it’s gonna be for me, alright? Not for that little fucking brat of yours.”

His switchblade had gone straight to her throat.

“Fuckin’ say that again,” Joel hissed, the sharp edge of the blade lightly slicing into her flesh. “Call her that one more time and see what fuckin’ happens.”

She apologized and then got to work, completing the task within a couple of hours.

Finally, you answer his question.

“Water’s fine,” you mumble. It’s hot, but not scalding.

“Good.”

Joel kneels beside the tub.

Flinching, you hunch over and pull your legs up against your chest.

It doesn’t matter. He’s already seen you naked.

He’s the one who had undressed you, after all.

Dipping a washcloth into the water, Joel instructs, “Sit up straight, honey.”

Honey.

The pet name makes you feel sick to your stomach.

You’re not his honey. You’re his prisoner.

He frowns, the creases between his brows deepening.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, pretty girl.”

Obediently, you nod and the water sloshes around you as do what he says.

You saw what he was capable of. You’re terrified of him.

With a satisfied hum, he begins washing you.

It had been three days since the massacre. Joel gently scrubs away the crimson caked onto your skin and the color of the water turns to rust. You don’t know whose blood you’ve been wearing—could it be your father’s?

He had been standing in front of you when his life was taken by the very same man that knelt beside you. Had his blood splattered on you? Was it being cleaned off by the same man who had so violently spilled it?

Your stomach lurches at the thought.

He had been trying to protect you during the ambush.

Your father had been trying to fucking protect you.

And Joel Miller had killed him.

He had killed him just to get to you.

Joel runs the washcloth down your arm, his dark gaze dragging over every inch of your body. “Such a pretty, pretty little girl,” he murmurs. Dropping the washcloth into the water, he gently cups one of your breasts in his large hand. He sweeps his thumb over your nipple and lightly teases the pebbled flesh, his digit circling it until it becomes a stiff peak.

Your eyes flutter closed and you inhale sharply.

There’s a strange feeling in your lower belly.

Strange because it’s not entirely unpleasant.

He trails his hand lower, raking over your tummy.

Lower.

Lower.

Lower.

He rests his palm over the mound of your pussy.

Gasping, your thighs clench together.

You’d like to think it’s to keep him out, to keep him from violating you further, but the burning pressure building in between your hips seems to be saying otherwise.

Horrified, you squeeze your thighs even tighter.

No. Don’t let him in.

But what if your resistance led him to force his way in?

You shudder, unable to decide which would be worse.

Joel leans forward over the bathtub, pressing his lips to your temple. “Don’t fight it, honey. S’okay that it feels good,” he mumbles against your skin. “It’s s’pposed to feel good when I touch you, baby.”

No, it’s fucking not!

Bowing your head, quietly begin to sob.

He wraps his arms around you. “Don’t cry, babygirl,” he soothes. “Don’t cry. Daddy’s gonna take real good care of you. I promise I’ll always take good care of you.”

His vow makes you cry even harder.

divider credit @saradika 🤍

[ckret2]

Chapter 76 of human Bill Cipher not looking much like the Mystery Shack's prisoner because he's just vibing on the porch: Mabel's riding high on the success of making Bill two whole friends, Ford's dealing with curses... and let's see how that camera got cursed in the first place.

####

Mabel asked, "What about Aaron Laarson?"

"I don't know," Candy said, "Aaron is cute, but he isn't a very good dancer. That's very important to me in a teen pop idol."

"He's a really good actor, though," Grenda said. "You should see him in Hot Models 2: Runway Boogaloo!" Candy looked thoughtful.

They'd spent the last thirty minutes chattering, with Grenda and Candy sitting on Bill, who was now laying his upper body on the couch cushion he'd been assaulted with earlier but otherwise hadn't moved. To all appearances, Bill was sound asleep—he even breathed like he was asleep—but every once in a while, he'd pipe up with something like, "Don't get too attached to Aaron Laarson. He's dying in a kayaking accident next summer."

Grenda groaned in disappointment. Candy said, "He should have spent that time practicing dancing instead of kayaking."

Mabel caught movement in the corner of her eye, and started when she saw Ford and Dipper. "Uh oh. I didn't expect them to come in on this side of the house."

Across the clearing, Ford shouted, "Mabel, what the devil is he doing outside with—!"

Mabel shouted, "It's okaaay, I got permission from Grunkle Staaan, I love yooou!"

Ford hesitated. "Well... if Stan okayed it."

Dipper looked at Mabel and her camera. Mabel looked at Dipper and his camera. They immediately started making the stupidest faces they could at each other's cameras. "Hey," Mabel said, "did you find the nightwigglies? It looks like they found yooou!"

Dipper self-consciously tugged up the vest he was using like a makeshift skirt. "We did! It was so great, we recorded some kind of ritual dance, how they make babies—" At Grenda's outburst of "Ewww!" he quickly clarified, "Not—not in a gross way—and we saw some kind of Nightwiggler god! It was amazing!"

"Wow! That's great!" Mabel said. "We summoned a demon and almost died."

"What?"

"By the way!" Mabel waved her camera at Ford. "Grunkle Ford, I kiiinda used your cursed camera by accident. Could you please uncurse the tape so I can keep the episode I filmed tonight? Goldie said the magic thingy he stuck on it will only keep it tame as long as the tape's in the camera."

"That's because it's technically the tape itself that's cursed, not the camera." Ford wondered if Bill had led Mabel to the camera.

"Can you uncurse it, though?"

"I think so. I'll see what I can do." Ford took the camera from Mabel. He decided not to comment on the girls' interesting makeup choices.

Bill opened one eye a sliver as he felt Ford and Dipper step on the porch, saw Ford's bare calf over his boot, and cracked up. "What happened to your pants! Did you try to join the Hokey Pokey?"

Ford gave Bill a withering look—caught sight of Bill's mismatched tween-girl-pencil-case/airbrushed-hot-rod eyeshadow, and laughed in surprise. "What happened to your face?"

"Aren't I beautiful?" Bill asked, lacing his hands under his chin (and making Ford snort again when he spied the multiple nail extensions on one hand). "Go on! Tell me I'm beautiful. I know I am."

"You're..." Ford was keenly aware that Mabel and her friends were probably behind this makeover, "...certainly colorful."

"Stanford, you flatterer!" Bill cackled.

Dipper headed inside, yawning. "I'm gonna... go to sleep or something."

That was a good idea; but Ford was hesitant to go in. He was loath to trust Bill unsupervised alone with a couple of vulnerable children, with no one to keep him in check but another child he'd already manipulated into helping him escape once.

But who was Ford to judge. Bill had manipulated him into helping him escape, too. He supposed Mabel could handle him as well as anyone else.

Grenda said, "I think we should watch Hot Models 2 anyway! It's got lots of cute boys! And girls, I guess." She turned to Bill. "Hey, do you like girls or boys?"

"Sometimes," Bill said. "Sure, I'm up for it. It's a pretty good satire of Big Fashion and I like the runway fight scene with the big light show."

To Ford, all Bill seemed to be doing was talking about movies, wearing stupid makeup, and being a chair for a couple of kids. It was so... normal.

It was something a person would do.

Ford made himself go inside. Maybe he'd start work on uncursing that tape for Mabel before he went to bed.

####

Bill had written a magic-negation seal on the back of a crumpled Mystery Shack receipt and attached it to the camcorder with an X of clear tape. Ford had only used that seal twice in his life. Once, thirty years ago, when Bill had taught it to him. And once last fall, when Ford had attempted to draw it in the Book of Bill to prevent its anomalous effects. Bill's book had absorbed the seal into its page until it disappeared—then burped. At least the symbol still seemed to work on the camcorder.

Ford tried to rewind the tape to the beginning; something inside the camcorder caught and made a nasty sound. He grimaced and hit the stop button. That wasn't good. He carefully peeled off the magic-negation seal, popped the cassette tape out of the camera, and examined it. 

He pushed up the cassette's guard panel, but where there should have been a strip of magnetic tape running beneath it, there was nothing. The tape must have snapped. As he tried to inspect the damage, the cassette jumped and rattled in his hand, trying to snap the guard panel shut on his finger like it wanted to bite him.

"Stop that," Ford chided. "I'm trying to repair you." Would it listen? In his experience, objects animated by this particular curse tended to be consistently hostile. He might need to re-seal it.

To his surprise, the tape settled down sedately on his desk. That was more like it.

"Can you unreel the damaged ends of your tape?" If it could, that would save him the effort of disassembling the thing entirely.

After a short pause, the cassette flipped up its guard panel and extended two ends of broken tape.

"Thank you."

It looked like something had... burned? melted the tape? But what? The video cassette's casing was completely undamaged, how had something managed only to burn the tape inside?

Ford snipped off the damaged ends of the tape, used a little strip of masking tape to connect them back together, and carefully rewound the tape a few seconds with a pen. This was only a temporary repair; he'd have to transfer the contents of this cassette to an undamaged one. Mabel would probably want it digitized so she could make her video, too. But watching a few seconds wouldn't destroy it; and he wanted to know whether the camera had recorded whatever damaged the tape.

He carefully removed the smallest of Project Mentem's undamaged monitors, moved it to his worktable, plugged in a VHS-C player, and slid the cassette in.

As he started to play back the recording—the first thing on the screen was one of Mabel's terrified-looking friends—the monitor trembled and jumped, banging heavily as it landed back on Ford's worktable.

"Oh, behave." Ford peeled the magic-negating seal off the camcorder and slapped it on the TV. It immediately stilled. Some gratitude for repairing that tape.

When Ford turned his attention back to the screen, Mabel's friend's face had been replaced by Bill's, his curls filling the edges of the screen.

"Gold-O! You came back!" "Hey, Grend-O. Sorry for the wait..."

As Ford watched, Bill grappled with the camera, eventually managed to get a grip on it, and stared it down with nearly enough fury to make Ford forget the goofy eyeshadow. "Now let's get this straight. Everything beneath this shack's roof is my domain and under my protection! If you want to hurt anyone here—you'll have to get through m—"

The scene cut straight to Mabel's face as it skipped over the damaged section he'd had to cut out. "Welcome back to Mabel's Guide to Secret Sleepovers! Weee're—"

Ford stopped the tape. Huh.

Huh.

####

As soon as Candy and Grenda were gone, Mabel flung her arms around Bill. "Thank you for being nice to my friends," she said. "Especially Grenda. I'm so glad you liked them both after all!"

Liked them? He'd been a charming host to them, but. "Did I?"

"Yes," Mabel informed him firmly. "You did."

Well, he figured he must've, then. And Grenda had grown on him. She'd complimented his eyes, she admired gross things, she had very intelligent opinions on amphibians in general and axolotls in particular... "Hey, any friend of my friend is a friend of mine!"

"That's so much better than what I was trying to say." Mabel let go of him, beaming. "Wanna hang out with them again sometime?"

"Sure!" Bill said, shrugging. "We still have to watch some dumb action comedy movies."

"Great! I'll let them know the next sleepover's over here!" She ran upstairs.

Calling her friends to arrange the next sleepover before they'd even gotten home. Yeah—that was generally how Bill planned his parties, too.

Looked like his social circle for the foreseeable future consisted of three little girls. Wasn't ideal, but he could work with that. He'd always liked getting invited to girls' nights. And maybe at future sleepovers he could talk the kids into some real fun. When they weren't trying to keep quiet, he knew, they fed off each other's chaos. And he was sure there was a budding pyromaniac lurking in Candy's heart.

####

Ford nodded as he passed Stan in the entryway. "Just getting up?"

"Yep. Just going to bed?"

Ford shrugged ruefully. "Afraid so. We got some terrific footage last night, though."

"Oh, yeah? Anything sellable?"

"That's up to Dipper, but I think there's good potential. Bare minimum, I'd bet some cryptozoology documentaries would be interested in his findings."

"Hey, all right! Not bad for a night's work." Stan passed by, headed for the bathroom.

And Ford almost headed on to the guest bedroom—but, reluctantly made himself turn toward the kitchen.

Bill was sitting at the table, sipping at a can of cider with an empty one already on the table in front of him, staring out the window at the morning. He didn't usually drink that heavily this early; it probably meant he was heading to bed soon. The girls must have kept him up all night. Dipper had regaled Ford with tales of what Mabel's sleepovers were like.

"Bill."

"Hm?"

He should have gotten straight to business. Instead, he said, "I watched some of Mabel's video from last night."

Bill glanced over at him. (He still had that ridiculous makeup.) "Oh, yeah?"

Under my protection. Did he consider himself the household's guardian—or its owner? "I..." Ford cleared his throat. "I wondered about—the symbol you painted on your hand to disable the camera. That part of the tape melted, and—I assume it was light-activated, which means it must be different from the seal I already know, so...?"

Bill's face had immediately closed off. He turned away. "You're not my student."

Ford was surprised at how much that felt like a slap to the face. He should have been glad—he'd finally managed to get Bill to agree with what he'd been telling him all summer—but he hadn't expected Bill to ever give up. (He hadn't expected Bill to ever change.)

But he probably hadn't really given up. No doubt he was giving Ford the cold shoulder to see if he begged Bill's forgiveness.

"No. I suppose I'm not." He trudged into the kitchen, rummaged in his coat pocket, and dropped a leather pouch on the table. "Anyway, I'm just here to drop this off."

Bill reached for it, stopped himself, and warily asked, "What is it?"

"The rest of my nutrition pills from my interdimensional travels." When he'd lost his trench coat to the lake during the eclipse last week, he'd had to dig out the old tattered one he'd worn during his travels, and he'd happened to find his pills at the same time. It had occurred to him to bring them up while he was working on Mabel's tape. They were tricky to synthesize, but they lasted forever and the ingredients could be found in almost any dimension—whether there was anything otherwise edible for humans or not. 

Bill eyed him suspiciously; but he opened the pouch's snap and peeked into the resealable plastic bag. They didn't look like "pills" so much as small balls of incredibly dense dark brown bread, each about the size of a wad of bubblegum. "Whyyy?"

"To make up the difference in your diet until we figure out the food problem," Ford said. "They're formulated so that four a day meets a human's... well, meets my nutritional needs. I haven't looked into your..." vague gesture, "body... type."

"Is this your emergency stash?"

"It... was." Stan had persuaded Ford to get back onto normal food (as much of a waste of time as it was), but he still had this stash left.

"Why are you giving me your emergency stash."

"Because... I'm not having an emergency and you are?" It was better than a couple of avocados and some hot sauce. Honestly, he should have thought to go looking for his nutrition pills weeks ago. If he'd realized just how severe they'd made Bill's situation... or how stubborn Bill would be about asking for help... or that they'd ever plan to keep Bill around long enough that his nutrition would be an issue.

Bill squinted at him, and for a moment Ford thought he was about to start a fight for some insane reason; but then the air seemed to leak out of him, his shoulders sagged, and he just looked at the nutrition pills. "For starters, they'll need more than twice as much iron."

"That much?"

"And more vitamin D, I don't remember the numbers right now." He shut the pouch, sat back, and lifted his cider can again. "All right."

All right? Ford supposed that was all he was getting. He turned to go.

As he did, Bill said, "Bed?"

Ford glanced back. "Yes?"

"Fine," Bill said. "Have nightmares."

He couldn't help letting out a laugh. "Fine. You too."

"It's too late for you to start trying to sweet-talk me like that, Stanford Pines!" But he tilted his can toward Ford—cheers—chugged down the rest, and cracked open a third.

####

Dipper was already in bed when Mabel charged in. He rolled over slightly, saw she was still in her sleepover pajamas, and mumbled, "Going to sleep too?"

She rummaged around in the closet by the door. "I can't waste that kind of time!" She retrieved a shoe box full of the wooden models of the townspeople she'd crudely whittled last summer at a library arts & crafts program run by Wendy's dad. She dumped them out on the floor, and, for lack of a figure representing Bill, tore a corner off a stray sheet of notebook paper and drew his eye on it. "I've got to capitalize on last night's success!"

She snatched her pyramid prism off the windowsill and taped the paper eye on it. "Hey, you." She poked Bartholomew's cradle. "Why were you a big chicken in front of my friends?"

"What, with you waving that camera around?" Bartholomew said. "I didn't want it to know I have a soul to steal."

"You knew?! You jerk!" She gave the cradle a harder poke, rocking it slightly.

Dipper yawned. "Capitalize on what success? The demon summoning?"

"No! Helping Bill make two new friends!" Mabel sat on the floor, plopped the Bill prism down amidst the other wooden figures, and started setting them upright. Waddles waddled over to sniff at them.

"Oh." Dipper groaned and rolled back over.

"The next stage of his rehabilitation is expanding his social circle. Get him some normal friends that don't want to eat people or destroy moons or whatever!" She grabbed up the notebook paper again, tore it into sections, and wrote on each with the nearest gel pen: "Friends!!!" "Maybe" "NO" "Healthy ☆ Rivals" "♡ Potential dates? ♡" She added thoughtfully, "And maybe get him a love life. We had to chase off his last girlfriend."

Dipper groaned louder. "I don't wanna think about Bill dating. That dumb eye-bat was bad enough."

"She's not dumb, she's into avant-garde experimental films. And she watches them with subtitles. Bill said so." She placed her, Grenda's, and Candy's figures in the Friends section, tentatively placed Dipper halfway between Maybe and No after checking to make sure he wasn't watching, and then started scanning her collection for more likely friends. "Who in town do you think would date Bill Cipher?"

"Nobody. Everyone hates him."

She stuck Wendy and her gang in the "Friends!!!" section, she thought they were a safe bet. "Who do you think would date Bill if they don't know he's Bill?"

"Nobody." Dipper pulled his blanket over his head.

"Pbbt, don't be so negative! You've gotta believe in him." Blubs and Durland? They were probably his friends, right? She sorted them accordingly and added Lazy Susan to the "Maybe" section. "Just you watch. I'll have Bill reintegrated into society before the end of the summer!"

Mabel had picked out several more prospective friends for Bill before Dipper sighed, rolled over again, and said, "Why do you have to make friends for Bill?"

"Bro. Come on. When he's left to his own devices, he keeps talking about pulling people's veins out of their bodies or telling them secret information about their own childhoods. He's probably talking about something creepy right now."

####

"I'm telling you," Bill said, gesticulating emphatically with a cider can. "It works. Your cousins will never argue with you again, and you guarantee they'll be with you forever! It's the perfect way to permanently resolve family disputes!"

"I can see your logic," Stan said, grimacing. "However. I'm not eating my cousins."

"Not all your cousins," Bill insisted. "Just one, to send a message. You don't even need to eat the whole guy! Just half a limb or so. If you want to look like the bigger man, you can even let him choose which one."

Looking faintly nauseous, Stan shoved over his unfinished eggs and pancakes and stood. "What the heck was your home life like?"

"Oh, it was terrific. I was the family golden child." Bill dug into Stan's eggs. "I was everything your family hoped you'd be and was disappointed you weren't!" 

"Was that before or after you started eating your cousins?"

"I didn't say I did it. That's your species' thing." Bill said, with a lofty tone that suggested moral superiority, "We'reinedible."

"Ha!" Stan shook his head. "You talk a big game for a guy who's never eaten one family member!"

Bill snapped the tab off his cider can and flipped it at Stan's head.

####

"He's delightful, but he's an acquired taste," Mabel said. "He just needs somebody else to help mediate when he meets new people! Like letting two cats sniff each other under the door!"

"Okay, but why you?"

She thought about that, staring at the pyramid representing Bill; then she shrugged. "Somebody has to."

"They really don't."

"Somebody should," Mabel insisted. "I just really want to see him make friends with everybody here. It's like... making it up to the town for hurting them last year."

"I think leaving them alone would work better. After what he did, he doesn't deserve to be friends with anyone in town—"

"It's important to me, okay?" Mabel snapped. "It just is."

What was that for? Did she think he was criticizing her for befriending him? He mumbled, "I didn't mean you."

She was quiet a moment. "I know." 

"Sorry." Dipper was too tired for this conversation; he was just sticking his foot in his mouth. He yawned, muttered, "Good luck scheduling him a playdate, I guess," and rolled over.

####

After sleep and lunch, Ford returned to his study, set up a second blank video cassette to copy the damaged one's data, carefully rewound the damaged one all the way to the beginning, and watched it for the first time in over thirty years.

The recording was grainy and distorted now. It looked so old. This technology had been brand new when Ford had bought his video camera—so new that he'd had to order it from overseas, it hadn't been available in the United States yet. How quickly things changed.

The camera turned to take in Ford's own, younger, beaming face. "This is Dr. Stanford Pines, with the first of what will hopefully be many video recordings of the oddities in Gravity Falls." (In the present, Ford snorted.) "The subject of this first video is a series of magic symbols that, when combined, can animate inanimate objects. Any inanimate object."

He turned the camera around. Like a vampire's morbid pulpit, one of Ford's journals was laid open atop the lid of a black casket. Two heavy chains were laid across each side of the book and locked around the casket's handles to keep them tightly secured. A couple dozen pages in the middle of the book had been left free of the chains, but were pinned down by a cinderblock.

All the security measures were clearly needed; the book was thrashing in its restraints strongly enough to make the casket lid rattle. The visible text writhed across the journal's pages, words and symbols appearing and disappearing in the margins. The susurrations of the pages rubbing against each other sounded like the hissing of a trapped animal.

Ford tipped the cinderblock off the journal and pinned the pages down with his shoe instead. "Several days ago, a local director taught me the spell he used to animate clay figures for his movies. I'd thought perhaps he was creating golems, but aside from the superficial similarity of writing symbols to animate figures of mud, there doesn't seem to be any similarity between his ritual and any golem folklore I've ever heard. Furthermore, his creations are intelligent, capable of speech, and seem to remain loyal to their creator simply out of a passion for acting and respect for his directorial talents rather than any sort of magically-compelled loyalty." A wry note entered his voice. "And I can confirm that the spell itself certainly doesn't impart any loyalty."

 The page below his foot erased itself and replaced the text with large, angry text: "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO EARN MY LOYALTY?! YOU DOG EAR MY PAGES! YOU USE ME AS A CHOPPING BOARD!"

"Wh—! Who do you think you are, a Sefer Torah?! Don't be so precious! You're made of faux leather and craft paper, I'll dog ear you all I want!" Ford snapped. "And I already apologized for the chopping board thing!"

The journal stopped moving. "My cover isn't real leather?"

"On my budget?! The closest you've ever come to real cow hide is visiting the Sprott farm!"

While the journal was stunned silent, Ford scooted his foot aside so the camcorder could see a symbol on the opposite page—one of the few bits of ink that didn't seem to shift around the journal's pages. "This is the symbol the director taught me. But it's only supposed to work if you perform an accompanying ritual to activate and power it, which I haven't." He reached down with a gloved hand to flip the loose pages over, then pinned them again under his shoe to let him record another symbol. "This symbol is supposed to power magical artifacts. I suspect writing both these sigils together in the same book has caused them to interact in unexpected ways. But, by themselves, these two are insufficient to bring a book to life—I experimented by copying them both into Journal 1—so perhaps some of the other symbols or spells written in Journal 2 are contributing to—"

"WHAT?!" Journal 2 angrily scrawled around the perimeter of the second symbol. "You tried to bring that teacher's pet to life?! What's wrong with ME!"

"You mean, besides your completely uncooperative attitude, reckless abuse of magic, and murder attempts?" Ford ignored the journal's angry "shouting" as he went on, "But until I figure out what the other symbols are, my... anonymous informant on the occult—"

"You don't mean Creature #326? Tell me it's not Creature #326!"

"—has taught me a sigil that should be able to reverse the effects of the animation spell—"

A series of magical sigils flashed across the journal's page and were quickly replaced by "HA-HA-HA!" The camera shuddered.

"What was that?!" Ford set the camera on the casket where it could watch as he tried to pin down Journal 2's fluttering pages and write on it. "We'll see who's laughing in a minute, you— Stop erasing what I write!" Ford tugged out a sticky note that had been serving as bookmark, hastily scribbled on it, and slapped it into the journal. "Ha!"

The book immediately fell still.

Ford grabbed up a tape dispenser from the floor, pulled off a short strip, and attached the sticky note more securely to the page. "Well. That was effective." He flipped through the journal. "Furthermore, it looks like all the changes Journal 2 made to itself have been reverted. Good. It defaced a lot of data I'd hate to have to reproduce..." As he spoke, the camera slowly rose into the air.

He turned to pick it up, flinched, and quickly got to his feet. "Oh! Uh. Hello."

"Hello," the camera echoed in Ford's voice.

"How did you...?" Ford smacked his forehead, eyes wide with amazement! "Of course! My recording! The symbols my journal wrote! This is fascinating. Recording the symbols on magnetic tape must be just as effective as writing them on paper, even if the symbols aren't visible without specialized equipment. I'll have to experiment with other methods of... of..." Ford petered off as the camera slowly floated higher. He held out a hand hopefully. "Please come back?"

"No," the camera said. "Please give me your soul."

"No." Ford took a deep breath, set Journal 2 on the casket, and flexed his fingers. "Okay. Let's do this again."

As the Ford of thirty-odd years ago wrestled with the camera on the TV screen, the much older Ford sighed. That had been fun. Exploring the bizarre and aberrant had still been fun, back then. That thought disconcerted him; was it no longer fun now? He supposed it still was to an extent. He was just worse at having fun. Harder to dazzle.

He wondered why Journal 2 had been so wary of Creature #326. Bill. It had been right, he was Ford's "anonymous informant"—Ford had told him about his hostile new living journal in a dream, and after Bill had finished laughing, he'd taught Ford how to counteract the spell activating it.

But how did it know?

Could it have warned him about Bill?

Ford would never find out now.

The TV went dark as, in the recording, Ford trapped the camera inside a box. Slightly muffled, Ford said, "Try getting out of that!" Under his breath, he muttered, "I think I prefer writing over narrating anyway."

The screen remained dark for another ten seconds as the camera bumped around and muttered to itself. And then it abruptly cut to a shot of Dipper's bed. Off-screen, Mabel's voice said, "Awesome, still works!" She set the camera on the table under the kids' window—

That was what Ford was looking for. He rewound several seconds and began transferring the recording of Mabel's sleepover onto a fresh tape he'd prepared earlier.

After that, maybe he'd go back to the start again so he could see the other symbols Journal 2 had flashed at the camera and copy them into Journal 5—onto a page already prepared with the magic-negating seal.

####

In the Nightmare Realm, a red book with a golden handprint on the cover boldly labeled "2" floated alone in the void, as it had since it had been tossed in the bottomless pit a year ago.

Its tattered pages were splayed open as it drifted weightlessly through the aether.

On one page near the center of the book, a sticky note with a seal drawn on it was attached to the page with a strip of tape, and surrounded by a warning never to erase the symbol on the sticky note.

The tape had lost its stick after decades buried outdoors; it stuck to the sticky note, but not to the book. The sticky note was barely holding on by a corner.

And as the book slowly wheeled through the void, the last corner peeled off, and the sticky note fluttered away.

Journal 2's pages rustled.

####

(I think y'all who have been keeping up with my posts about this fic know exactly what's coming next. 😎

Thaaat's right. 😎😎

An unrelated flashback chapter!!!

Anyway hope y'all enjoyed, let me know what you think!)

[allthingsimagines]

So It Goes…

“I’m yours to keep and I’m yours to lose. You know I’m not a bad girl, but I do bad things with you, so it goes” - So It Goes… by Taylor Swift

Feyd-Rautha x Pregnant!Atreides!Reader

summary: What will happen when orders are given and it pits the two people you love most against one another?

word count: 3.4k

warnings: Feyd being very ooc

a/n: I woke up this morning and cranked this out because I couldn’t get it out of my head

The Freman had attacked in unprecedented numbers. They bombed the city, the whole building rattling violently from the attacks. You had been in the throne room as they broke into the palace. The room filled with smoke as the revered Muad’dib made his way in front of the Emperor.

Your husband, na-Baron Feyd-Rautha, had kept you securely behind him the entire time. You clung to him like a shadow, holding the back of his tunic in one hand and your swollen stomach with the other. Muad’dib had made quick work of the disgusting Baron, which had left you feeling an overwhelming sense of relief.

You had prayed for the downfall of the Harkonnen’s since the moment they had murdered your entire family. They attacked with no warning and slaughtered everyone you had ever loved. You were the only survivor and the Baron took you to serve as a reminder of their great power. Certainly, you would have been dead in days if not for your husband’s possessive nature.

You had been promised to him since the day you were born as a show of peace between the families. When the Baron dragged you kicking and screaming back to Geidi Prime, Feyd had declared that you were his to do with as he pleased and no one would lay a hand on you. As humiliating as it was to be reduced to property by him, it was far better than whatever fate you would have had at the Baron’s hands.

Feyd-Rautha was a brutal man. He killed as he pleased and sent a wave of terror over every person he encountered. He had terrified you as well. He did not care for your feelings or desires. You were his wife now, and he could do as he pleased with you. One thing that you had not expected with Feyd was that despite his violent nature towards everyone else, it had never extended to you.

Perhaps it was the fact that he saw you as his to own, but it kept you safe and alive. You had not anticipated for love to bloom from your marriage to him, but you did love him in your own way. He would burn the world down for you and had killed anyone who had spoken ill of you. His brutal nature was alluring and you could not resist it.

He saw you as his property, but that changed once he started to see your own ambitions come to light. You wanted vengeance for your family and you silently plotted how best to take down the Baron. Feyd had thought you to be as meek as a mouse, but you were formidable indeed. You made quite the pair and the people of Geidi Prime adored their na-Baron and na-Baroness. What they didn’t know is that the two of you had been plotting how to take out the Baron for months to take control of the planet.

Seeing the Baron die had drove you to tears. People around you suspected it was because he was family or from the brutality of the kill as he bled out on the steps of the throne. You cried tears of relief for all that he had done to your family and to your husband.

You hardly even registered anything else that had happened in that throne room as you tried to pull yourself together. The Muad’dib then sent all of you to your rooms to be held as prisoners.

You only hoped he would spare you and your husband because of your condition. You were six months pregnant with a daughter and you couldn’t have been more nervous of what would come next.

You prayed the Emperor would die, along with the Reverend Mother that had plotted alongside him. She had hated your family since the day you and Paul were born. Your mother was only supposed to have a daughter and she had broke that promise. Paul had held all of the power the Bene Gesserit looked for in daughters. While you were still trained by your mother to use the voice, you never were anywhere close to what abilities Paul had.

Now, you hoped that evil woman would pay for all she had done.

“Wife.”

You looked over from your spot on the bed only to find Feyd moving towards you at a hurried pace. Your heart rate increased at his tense form, “Yes, husband?”

“They’re calling all prisoners. You will stay by my side, understand?” Feyd said as you stood from your place to meet him.

His hand reached out to hold the side of your face while the other was splayed over your bump. You nodded and placed your hand over his own, “Will you promise me something?”

“Anything darling,” He said, stroking his thumb over your cheek bone.

“Don’t get yourself killed. I need you to try to stay out of whatever conflict arises. We need you Feyd,” You said with a shaky voice.

Feyd pressed his lips hungrily to yours and you moaned against them. He pulled away, leaving you breathless as he spoke, “No man will kill me today.”

A loud banging came from outside your door and Feyd let out a growl of annoyance. He pulled away and took your hand in his own as he led you out of the room, your ladies fearfully following behind. You followed Feyd out of the room and were met with Freman soldiers, who all tensed at the sight of your husband. You clutched onto Feyd’s hand tighter as the guards led you behind the Emperor, Princess Irulan, and the Bene Gesserit.

The guards opened the large doors to the room and you all followed in. You stuck close to Feyd’s side as you took in all of the Freman soldiers that surrounded the room. You stood in the middle of the crowd as Feyd stood slightly in front of you for protection.

“There is a mass armada in orbit. You’re facing a full invasion Freman,” the Emperor spoke as he came to a stop with the General’s signal.

The Muad’dib stood in the middle of the room facing away from you. You narrowed your eyes on his figure as he looked familiar to you.

“How can you be so sure the great houses are here for me? They might be curious to hear my side of the story, don’t you think?” the Muad’dib spoke before turning around to face the Emperor.

It was him. He was alive despite all of the odds. Paul.

You stepped forward without thinking as your eyes welled with tears at the sight of your brother. Once Feyd realized who he was he followed after you as you made your way to the front. Feyd kept his hand securely around your middle as you moved through the crowd.

“I am Paul Atreides. Son of Leto Atreides. Duke of Arrakis,” he spoke, but your brain could hardly register the words being spoke as you tried to get to him.

“Gurney, send a warning to all the ships. If the great houses attack, our atomics will bomb all of the spice fields.”

Your eyes widened as they found Gurney Halleck following Paul’s command. You couldn’t stop your tears as another one of your family members was alive.

“Are you out of your mind?” the Emperor said in shock as you made your way to the front.

“Consider what you’re about to do Paul Atreides,” the Reverend Mother said.

“Silence!” Paul shouted with the voice and you heard her fall to the ground.

Before anything else could be said or done, you pushed past a few of the nobles at the front to get a good look at your brother. You squeezed Feyd’s hand as he stood close behind you, “Paul.”

Paul’s eyes snapped to you and you saw his whole body tense. The room was silent as he stepped towards you in shock, “Sister?”

You let out a choked sob as you dropped Feyd’s hand and rushed towards your brother. He pulled you into a tight hug and you clutched onto him like a life line. He pulled away and you took a good look at your brother. His eyes were blue now from the spice and he looked much older than he did when you saw him last.

“I can’t believe you’re alive. How did you-“ you started, but Paul cut you off.

“Mother and I escaped. In all of my visions I never saw you alive, how are you here?” He asked, but all you heard was the fact that your mother was alive.

Your eyes darted around the room, but your eyes settled on the one woman of power in the room. Your mother stood next to Gurney, her hand planted on her own swollen stomach as she watched the two of you interact. She was dressed like a Mother Reverend would be, and based off of her new appearance and the group surrounding her you suspected that was right.

You pulled away from Paul and tearfully let go of him as you hurried to your mother. Lady Jessica pulled you into a tight embrace and held you close to her body.

“Mother, I missed you,” you said into her shoulder as she rubbed your back in the comforting way she had when you were a child.

You pulled away and both of you looked at your swollen stomachs before meeting eyes again. She placed her hand on yours and let out a soft sigh, “You survived, just like I taught you.”

You nodded, without all of her preparation when you were younger you certainly would have died. You looked over to find Gurney giving you a proud look that was filled with more emotion than you’d ever seen from him. You reached forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek before quickly pulling back, “It’s good to see you again, old man.”

Gurney chuckled and opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off by Paul. “My own sister lives as a testament to our family’s strength. She is Y/N Atreides!”

The Freman cheered, but you only tensed as you stepped away from Gurney and your mother. Your husband would not keep his mouth shut at that. You were his wife after all.

“She is no longer an Atreides. She is Y/N Harkonnen now,” your husband spoke as you saw Paul’s eyes turn to him, filled with anger.

You quickly crossed the room and stood in front of your husband to defend him from Paul. The two had always hated each other and now it was at an all time high.

Paul watched as Feyd’s hand wrapped around your pregnant stomach securely, and you leaned back into his hold. Paul took a shaky breath to try to control his rage as you grabbed Feyd’s hand atop your stomach, “If he hadn’t married me, I would have died at the Baron’s hands months ago. He is the only reason I am still alive.”

Paul bit his lip to contain his own anger and turned to the Emperor as the two began shouting at one another. You let out a shaky breath as you tried to collect yourself. Feyd’s hand rubbed a gentle circle on your stomach as your daughter kicked against it.

You looked back at him and he moved his hand to your face. He gently wiped your tears and you pressed a kiss to his palm. You turned your attention back to Paul as he declared he would marry Princess Irulan.

“But you have to answer for what you did to my father,” Paul growled out as he stared down the Emperor.

“Do you know why I did it? It was because he was a man who believed in rules of the heart. But the heart is not meant to rule. In other words, your father was a weak man,” he spoke and the room sat in a tense silence as your anger bubbled.

Your father was not weak for loving your family. He was a strong man whose love for your family lasted until his dying day.

“Stand or choose your champion,” Paul said, his strength unwavering.

“Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. I choose him as my champion,” the Emperor spoke.

Your heart seized at his words and you looked up to meet your husband’s eyes, but they were set on the Emperor. He stepped away from you to follow the command, but you reached out to snag his hand.

“Feyd, you cannot do this. He is my brother,” you begged as he kept his eyes forward.

“I do not turn down fights, darling,” he said walking towards the Emperor to get his blade.

Gurney handed Paul a blade and he quickly took a fighting stance on the opposite side of the room. Feyd took the blade and moved to ready himself. You went to go to Feyd, but the Freman soldiers blocked your path. You glared in anger at them, “This is ridiculous! Feyd, don’t do this.”

Feyd kept his eyes forward on Paul as the two took their positions. Paul met your eyes before he looked back at Feyd and held his blade up just like Duncan always had before a fight, “May thy knife chip and shatter.”

Feyd turned his head to find your horrified look before turning back to Paul. He smirked before he repeated the phrase, “May thy knife chip and shatter.”

Then the fight began. The two fought brutally against one another and you could have been sick at the sight. You called out for them to stop, but they continued their violent dance. You looked over at the Emperor to find him watching with a pleasant look on his face. You growled as you moved towards him, “This is madness! Call off the fight!”

The sounds of swords clashing rang in your ears as you stared the old man down. He gave you an annoyed look before turning back to the fight, “Quiet woman.”

Your anger spiked and you opened your mouth to speak, but your head snapped to the fight as you found Paul on top of Feyd with his blade in his shoulder. Your mouth opened in horror as Feyd pushed Paul off of him and ripped the dagger out.

You turned to the Emperor to try to convince him, but an arm wrapped around your throat. The Emperor tightened his arm on your throat as you thrashed against him, “If they want to keep you alive, they’ll finish the fight.”

You fought against his hold, but quickly stopped as he pressed a blade to your stomach. You froze in his hold as your mother called out, “Paul! Feyd-Rautha!”

Paul turned his head to see what was the interruption only to find the Emperor holding you tightly to him. Feyd turned and his whole body filled with rage. The two men stepped away from one another and you smirked, “Now you’ve done it.”

The Emperor hated the look the men’s eyes as they made their way towards him. He tightened his hold on your throat and you grimaced, “Done what?”

Feyd was the angriest you’d ever seen him and Paul wasn’t much different, “You’ve united them in a common cause.”

The two men came towards you and everyone backed away. The Emperor pressed the knife harder against your stomach and you gasped in pain.

Feyd was filled with the urge to commit unspeakable violence at the sight of the Emperor holding a blade to his pregnant wife. You met Feyd’s eyes and tried to calm yourself down.

“I was willing to spare your life, but now you’ve threatened my sister,” Paul said, holding his blade up to the Emperor.

“Release my wife and I will make your death quick,” Feyd growled out as he stepped closer.

“You will continue the fight if you want her to live. I command it!” the Emperor shouted and pressed his arm tighter against your throat.

You gasped for air and Paul was quick to use the voice, “Release her!”

The Emperor quickly dropped the blade and let you go. You stumbled away from him, but before anyone else could act you snatched the blade from the floor and drove it into his stomach.

The Emperor gasped out in pain and stumbled as you drove the knife deeper. You met his pained eyes and glared, “For House Atreides.”

You drove the knife up higher into his stomach one last time before you stepped away and he fell to the floor. His daughter dropped to his side as he took his final breath and you turned back to face Paul. You steeled your nerves and met his eyes before you kneeled before him, “Emperor Paul Atreides.”

You heard everyone in the room kneel and your husband dropped to your side. You kept your eyes on the floor, but you reached over to grab his hand. Feyd squeezed your hand in his own as he stayed at your side. Paul began giving directions and everyone rose to their feet.

Feyd pulled you to your feet and was quick to pull you close to him. His eyes raked over your body as he scanned for any sign of injury. He took your face in his hands and met your eyes. You could tell he was furious at what had occurred as he inspected you.

“Are you hurt?” he growled out as he noticed the redness on your neck.

You placed your hands over his and let out a shaky breath, “I’m okay. We’re both okay Feyd.”

He nodded and moved to place a hand on your stomach protectively. He shakily sighed before giving you a proud look, “You did well there, I wasn’t sure if you would be able to do it.”

You sighed, leaning into his touch, “I did it out of love for my family. That includes you and our daughter, my love.”

A proud smirk appeared on his face, “You should kill more often. You look alluring when you do.”

Shaking your head at your husband, you spoke, “I’ll leave the violence to you, husband. I have other ways of gaining your attention.”

Feyd smirked before pulling you into a deep kiss. You groaned in response as you pulled yourself as close as you could to him with your bump in the way. You both pulled away and he brushed some stray hair from your face.

“Feyd-Rautha.”

You both turned to face your brother, the new Emperor, as he stood in front of you with Gurney at his side. The room was full of commotion as people began to shout and head out.

“We’re taking the fight to the great houses. Can I trust that you will keep my sister safe while I am away?” Paul asked, doing his best to bridge the wedge between them.

You looked between them as Feyd contemplated his words. Feyd looked down at you and let out a sigh before looking back to Paul.

“I will gladly give my life to keep her and our daughter safe,” he declared as he returned your brother’s intense stare.

Paul reached his arm out and Feyd reached forward and clasped it. The two stood staring at each other before Feyd said, “Good luck Atreides.”

They dropped each other’s arms and Paul gave you a nod before he headed off to lead the charge. You let out a nervous sigh, but leaned into Feyd’s hold.

“You couldn’t call him Emperor?” You asked with a teasing lilt to your voice as you leaned against Feyd’s chest.

“Now what would be the fun in that?” he asked and you shook your head at him as he rubbed gentle circles on your waist.

“Will we be alright? The Imperium is going to be after all of us after today. Especially me, since it was my hand who killed the Emperor,” you asked and his hold tightened on you.

Feyd guided your chin up to meet his eyes. He looked like a man ready for battle with how intense he was looking at you, “You are my wife. If any one dares to try to lay a hand on you again or our daughter, they will wish they were dead when I get my hands on them.”

You let out a sigh as his violent words felt incredibly reassuring. You softly kissed him once more and smiled up at him, “Good. That was exactly what I hoped you would say.”

[oizysian]

22 // Masquerade // On The Inside

Summary: Wanda is an undercover cop who does some things she wouldn’t expect while in prison.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: forced kissing, pussy eating, dirty cop

Word count: 1.1k

Kinktober masterlist

Wanda’s POV:

I had never been in trouble in my life, but now I was in prison as an undercover cop, and it was terrifying. I had to pretend to be tough and brave, which I was normally, but being in an unfamiliar situation put me off my game, and this wasn’t exactly the best situation to be in. All I had to do was watch and possibly extract information from one of the inmates, but I was barely here a whole week and I was being harassed - and I had to do my best to not act like a cop.

I tried to stand my ground, but these women were in here for a reason and without authority, I was outnumbered and outgunned.

I was a new inmate - fresh meat, and they made it very obvious that they were all very hungry.

I was cornered by two bigger women; pushing me around, touching me and I knew I was in deep.

“Back off.” I growled and one of them grabbed me, pushing me up against a nearby wall.

“Hey.” A voice called out.

A girl with a scar on her eyebrow and deep, dark eyes walked up to us, interrupting the woman’s assault on me.

“That one’s mine.”

The woman swirled around and laughed, letting me go and turning her attention to this other girl.

“Yeah, pipsqueak? Says who?”

“Says me. Just ask the last bitch that thought she could take something that belonged to me.”

The woman looked from the girl to her accomplice, and from the look on her face, let me go. I fell back against the wall and gritted my teeth, knowing I couldn’t do anything to blow my cover.

“Get lost.”

The two women scurried off and I was left alone with the girl who said she owns me.

“I don’t know if I should be thanking you or not.” I said softly, standing tall to appear less meek.

“You should.” She walked up to me and closed the distance between us, pressing her lips to mine and shoving her tongue nearly down my throat.

I put my hands up to her chest and pushed, huffing angrily. She smiled and wiped my spit off her mouth, winking at me.

“That’s just a taste. Wait until tonight.”

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Think about it? I’ve been ready for it since I first saw you. It’ll be easier for us both if you just let it happen.”

I did my best to make myself look bigger and scarier than I was, but she just laughed and looked amused.

“Cute. But remember, if it’s not me, it’ll be someone else.” She looked around and nodded her head at me. “Not sure if the other broads around here will be as gentle as I will.”

Something about this girl was alluring and attractive, but this was an insane notion. I couldn’t just be used and passed around like that … right?

“It’s a madhouse in here. If you have nothing to offer,” she gestured to my body. “They’ll take something else. You need protection and I’m offering my services.”

“For what in return?”

She smirked.

“You know what.”

I frowned. Maybe it would be beneficial to team up with this girl. Teaming up was so much more different than what I would be doing, but it was the best way to describe it.

“Okay.” I whispered and she tilted her head at me in confusion.

“Okay?”

I nodded.

“I’ll sleep with you.”

“It was that easy?”

“It was that easy.”

“C’mon.” She took my hand and led me down the hallway towards the laundry room, where she led us in and then closed the door behind us. “Nice and cushioned.”

She sat on and pat a pile of sheets and I took that as an invitation, sitting next to her awkwardly.

“How often do you do this?” I asked meekly and she snorted.

“Never. I’m all talk.” She leaned back onto the sheets and looked up at the ceiling. “Make sure to make some sexy noises so the others think I’m fucking you good.”

I stared at her for a moment before taking her hand, smiling slightly at her.

“I really appreciate this.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She swatted my hand away from hers and I shook my head, smiling. “I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to use me for other things too, y’know.”

“Yeah?” I smirked, picking up her playful tone.

“Yeah.” She looked over at me and I bit my lip.

“I’ve never been with a woman before.”

“No?” She sat up. “I’ve only been with girls.”

“Are you a lesbian?”

“I don’t like labels.”

She sighed and I watched her face, her expressions saying more than her words.

“You wanna try it out? No strings attached?”

“None?”

She shook her head. “None.”

I leaned forward and tentatively brushed my lips against hers, testing the feel of her lips against mine. Her lips were soft and surprisingly sweet and I obviously took her by surprise because she didn’t respond right away. After a moment, she responded in full, kissing me hard.

“You wanna …” she whispered against my lips and I hung on her every word. “You wanna ride my face?”

I blinked at her bluntness and nodded. I pulled off my pants and underwear and climbed her body, sitting on top of her as she grabbed my thighs and guided me down onto her face.

Her tongue was strong and soft as she explored my wetness, and I could feel my legs shaking as she fucked me. She was definitely good at what she did. I braced myself on the laundry cart in front of me and bit my lip, my hips rolling in time with the movements of her tongue.

I had never felt like this with a man, or even with myself. I couldn’t believe this was even happening. What got into me?

My brow furrowed as her tongue found my clit, swirling circles on it and flicking at it teasingly. I was losing my mind. One hand grabbed at her hair and pushed her face against me, the other still attempting to balance myself.

“Oh, fuck!” I cried as I came, my whole body tightening then releasing all of its tension at once.

I could hear her hum, satisfied, from under me as I got up and crawled off of her.

“Guess it was as good for you as it was for me.” She joked and I smiled shyly.

“I can’t believe I did that. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“I can tell. Little miss straight laced.”

“Shut up.” I laughed as I got redressed.

“Make me.”

Who knew I’d enjoy myself more as a criminal than as a cop?

[itneverendshere]

rewatching desperate house wives right now and would love to see a little something inspired by gabrielle and carlos?? maybe season 2 when he's in jail and she wants a conjugal visit. just thought it would be fun, love your work!!!

I'M THE GIRL YOU DIE FOR- r.c

pairing: canon!rafe x queenb!kook!reader

of course, you had to be here.

no one else was going to fight for rafe—certainly not that tired, old man, with his cheap suit and receding hairline.

god, you hated this place. the lighting was terrible, the walls a sad, dull beige that screamed "i give up," and the leather chairs were probably fake.

honestly, couldn’t these people at least pretend to have some standards? guess that’s what happens when you’re not the one cutting the checks.

now, instead of champagne and designer brunches, you were spending your afternoons in a hellhole like this. you stood near the chain-link fence, your sunglasses shielding you from the glaring sun.

in the distance, the inmates were out in the yard, working out, talking in groups, smoking—whatever it was they did to kill time.

who thought it was a good idea to have meetings out here? the yard was full of dirt, sweat, and who-knows-what, and the chain-link fence looked like something out of a low-budget crime show. you flicked a piece of lint off your skirt, more for effect than necessity.

maxwell finally showed up, his face blank, like he wasn’t impressed by the outfit you’d spent an hour putting together. whatever. you were here for rafe, not him.

“we need to talk,” you said, tightening the hold on your birkin like it weighed a thousand pounds. it was designer. it probably cost more than his car.

maxwell didn’t even flinch. “about?”

cheap suit, cheap attitude. honestly, if you weren’t so desperate, you’d be done with this idiot by now.

“about my fiancé.” you tilted your head, giving him your best ‘don’t play dumb with me’ look. “we need a conjugal visit. and i need you to make it happen.”

“a conjugal visit?” he said it slow, like you were asking for a miracle.

“yes.” you smiled tightly. “you know, those things where people in prison get to have a little privacy? i want you to get us one.” you rolled your eyes. god, this guy was infuriating. “isn’t that part of your job? to get what we need?”

maxwell raised an eyebrow. “a conjugal visit isn’t part of the deal. rafe’s charges are serious. i’m trying to get your fiancé out of jail, you want me to stop everything just so you can have a booty call?”

he was acting like you were asking for something outrageous.

as if it wasn’t completely reasonable for you to want to see rafe. really see him. after months. this was rafe cameron you were talking about. he had power. you had power. how could this crusty lawyer not understand that?

“i’m not asking, maxwell. i’m telling you. make it happen.”

“i said no.”

you scowled at him, “all we need is an hour. you can’t tell me no! you work for me, you will make it happen.”

he gave a fake sigh, the kind people did when they thought you were being dramatic.

“listen,” he sneered, leaning in slightly. “i’m not your servant. you don’t get to snap your fingers and expect things to just happen. newsflash—your boyfriend is in prison. not some hotel.”

oh, this smug asshole. you were about to really let him have it when a low voice interrupted from behind the fence.

“you got a problem, lady?”

you turned, eyes narrowing as you saw two inmates standing near the fence, both of them massive. tattoos snaked up their arms, and they looked rough. you’d seen them with rafe before.

maxwell glanced back at them, trying to act tough, “excuse me, but this is a private conversation.”

“private? you’re out here talking loud enough for the whole yard to hear. we heard what you said.” he tilted his head toward you, eyes narrowing on maxwell. “sounds like you’re disrespecting cameron’s girl.”

maxwell stammered, suddenly not so confident. “i—i’m just trying to explain that a conjugal visit is complicated. there are rules—”

“we don’t care.”

the second maxwell started running his mouth, you could already tell he had no idea who he was dealing with. he was still trying to act like he had the upper hand, like he was some big-shot lawyer who could push people around. you almost pitied him. almost. but honestly, he deserved what was coming.

“you’re not gonna get away with this,” he snapped, all bravado, puffing out his chest like that was going to make him any less pathetic. “you think you can intimidate me? i’ll have you all locked up for life if you so much as lay a finger on me.”

you rolled your eyes behind your sunglasses. what an idiot.

the bigger inmate—tank, you’d heard people call him—reached through the fence with a broomstick.

you hadn’t even noticed it before, but he must’ve grabbed it from somewhere nearby. he jabbed it into maxwell’s shoulder, not hard enough to really hurt him, but enough to make his point. maxwell jumped back like he’d been electrocuted.

“hey! what the—” he shouted, trying to step out of range, but tank just laughed and poked him again, this time aiming lower, jabbing him in the ribs.

“you don’t make the rules here, old man,” tank sneered, poking him once more, this time a little harder. “you’re gonna learn that the hard way if you don’t shut your mouth. apologize!”

maxwell’s face was turning red now, panic setting in as he tried to dodge the broomstick, but the other guy grabbed the handle, keeping it steady while tank prodded him over and over, relentless.

“i swear to god,” maxwell was screaming now, voice cracking. “i’ll have the guards throw you in solitary! you’ll never see daylight again, i’ll make sure you rot in here!”

the inmates just laughed, like his threats were some kind of joke. and honestly, they were. you watched, arms crossed, completely unbothered, as maxwell flailed, trying to keep his balance while other inmates jabbed other broomsticks at him, from every side, like he was nothing more than a punching bag.

“you hear that, boys?” tank said, grinning as he poked maxwell one more time. “he’s gonna get us locked up for life! like we’re not already in here.” the other inmate burst out laughing. a few more guys started drifting closer to the fence, watching with interest. “apologize!”

maxwell’s face was pure panic now. “stop it!” he screamed, backing up so far he was almost falling over. “i’m serious, i’ll call the warden, i’ll—this is all her fault, if she wasn’t such a goddamn horny b—”

you gasped, insulted, ready to read him to filth but the inmates beat you to it.

“do it,” the second guy sneered, his voice low and threatening. “see if we care. you think we don’t know how to make things happen? you’d be gone before you even got your phone call.”

a few of them started yelling, and jeering, like they were ready to jump in, too. maxwell’s eyes darted around, realizing that this was spiraling out of control.

“you idiots!” he screeched, his voice high-pitched and panicky. “you’ll start a riot! they’ll lock all of you down—no more yard, no more visits, nothing! you’re gonna screw yourselves over!”

but they didn’t care. the guys on the yard were getting riled up now, shouts echoing across the open space. some of them were banging on the fence, rattling it hard enough to make it shake.

“apologize to the lady!”

one of the other inmates reached through the fence, grabbing at his sleeve, yanking him forward. maxwell screamed, struggling to pull away, but the guy held on tight, his grip ironclad.

“come on, boys!” someone yelled from the yard, and suddenly it was like the floodgates had opened. more and more inmates rushed toward the fence, shouting, banging on the metal, some of them reaching through, trying to get a piece of the action, “apologize!”

you adjusted your sunglasses and turned to leave, your heels clicking against the pavement. you hope they kill him for you.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚

you were dressed to the nines, as usual, in a designer dress that probably cost more than what the guards made in a month. even in this drab setting, you looked like you belonged on a yacht, not here, in some depressing room meant for criminals and their girlfriends.

you strutted toward him, your lips glossed to perfection, knowing full well that the bratty smile curling your mouth would drive him insane.

it always did.

rafe was already sitting there, arms crossed, looking as exasperated as you’d ever seen him.

his jaw was clenched, and the muscles there twitched. he was not happy.

you smirked. of course, you weren’t expecting a warm welcome, but at least you got to see him.

“hi, baby,” you purred, batting your lashes as if you weren’t here to make his day harder. “missed me?”

he just stared at you for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed shut like he was trying to find some ounce of patience. then he let out this long, heavy sigh, rubbing his hand down his face before finally looking at you again.

“you—” he started, then stopped, poking his tongue against the inside of his cheek in frustration. “you started a riot because you wanted a conjugal visit?”

you tilted your head innocently, like you didn’t understand why he was so worked up.

“almost,” you corrected, as if that made it any better. “it wasn’t like they actually did anything.” you waved your hand dismissively, the gloss on your lips catching the light as you smiled.

“you—” he stopped, biting the inside of his cheek again, trying to rein it in. he was always like this—prone to temper, to obsession. the need to control everything. especially you. “do you know how close it came to getting out of control? the guards were ready to lock the whole place down. for days. you think that would’ve been good for me, huh?”

you shrugged, not really fazed.

“he was being a dick to me, baby. what was i supposed to do? that lawyer was useless. i wasn’t just going to stand there and let him talk to me like that.”

his eyes dropped to your mouth, unable to resist.

“he was the best lawyer in the fucking county.”

“they clearly need new ones then.”

rafe groaned, trying to keep from losing it completely.

“he almost called me a bitch!”

“were you acting like one?”

“and so what if i was?” you leaned back, crossing your arms, the movement accentuating your designer dress. “he was the one acting like an asshole. he’s lucky i didn’t throw my drink at him. if i’d had one.”

he looked like he was about two seconds away from unleashing his deranged side, rubbing his hand over his face again, like that was going to somehow make all of this disappear.

“you don’t get it, do you? you can’t pull this shit in here, baby. it’s not the fucking outer banks. people don’t just let you get away with whatever you want because you look good and throw money around.”

you rolled your eyes, flipping your hair over your shoulder.

“yeah, well, maybe they should. you don’t see me lowering my standards just because you’re stuck in this dump, do you?” you gestured around the room, your nose wrinkling at the depressing, beige walls. “god, i mean, who chooses these colors? it’s like they want people to lose their minds in here.”

he scoffed, “that’s what you’re worried about? the color of the walls?”

you pouted, “what else was I supposed to do? sit and wait for him to do nothing? ’m not stupid.”

"you're lucky you're even allowed in here after that stunt.”

you gave him a sweet, almost patronizing smile, teeth digging into your lower lip. "aww, baby, are you worried about me?”

"stop," he snapped, "this shit isn’t funny. you think i want to spend the next month in solitary because you couldn't keep your mouth shut?"

you didn’t flinch. in fact, you smiled even wider, enjoying how worked up he was getting.

“don’t be so dramatic. it wasn’t like anything actually happened.”

"you're out there playing power games with people who don't care about you,” he tapped two fingers against his temple, brows slightly raised,“they won’t bow down because you’ve got money or a pretty face."

"maybe not, but they’ll listen if i push hard enough," you said coolly. "and guess what? they did."

he clenched his jaw again, running his hands through his growing hair in frustration. he looked like he was fighting every instinct not to explode.

"you really think you're helping me, don’t you?"

you crossed your legs slowly, adjusting your dress so the fabric draped perfectly. “would you rather have me fuck someone else? y’know… a free man?”

that got a reaction. his eyes flickered with something dangerous, a smirk forming at the corner of his mouth as he leaned in close.

“you wouldn’t.” he whispered, the words laced with venom and amusement at the same time.

your smile turned wicked. “wouldn’t i?”

his fingers twitched on the table, the way they always did when he was seconds away from grabbing you.

“you’re really testing me right now,” he said slowly, his fingers drumming on the metal table between you. "you think ’m stuck in here, so you can play your little games? make me jealous?”

you held his gaze, unbothered, your lips curling into a defiant smile. "’m just reminding you that i have options. ones that aren’t sitting in a prison cell.”

he chuckled darkly, though there was nothing funny about the look in his eyes.

"options, huh?" his voice was edging on borderline strained. "and what makes you think i wouldn't kill any man who even looked at you?"

"you’d have to catch him first, wouldn’t you? and we both know you’re a little… tied up at the moment."

his hand shot out, gripping your lower cheecks with a force that sent you spiriling, remembering how he used to manhandle you anytime he got his hands on you, your faces were almost touching.

his eyes were wild. possession. obsession. the kind of dark love that made you both feel alive.

“you’re mine. no matter where i am, no matter who else you think you can have. you’re mine.”

“then get the stupid conjugal visit,” you hissed through your teeth, “’m horny.”

“’m not asking you. ’m telling you. you don’t have options sweetheart. you never did.”

you felt your pulse quicken.

god, he was insane, but that’s what made it so intoxicating.

he was right. no matter what you said or did, no matter how much you tried to push his buttons, it always came back to one thing: you belonged to him.

“i’ll get you your damn visit,” he continued, his voice dropping lower, “but ’m not doing it because you demanded it. ’m doing it because you need to be reminded of something.” he leaned back, letting go of your face, his fingers printed into your cheeks, keeping his eyes locked on yours, “you’re mine. and i’ll make sure you remember that.”

you rubbed where his grip had been, the throbbing sensation making it clear that he hadn’t lost his touch—he never did.

you grinned as you leaned forward, closing the space between you two again, “i’ll be waiting, baby.”

rafe’s smirk widened, his eyes burning with that possessive glint you knew all too well. there was no escaping him, not that you really wanted to.

“enjoy your time behind bars,” you added, standing up slowly, your movements deliberate, making sure he had a full view of your ass as you walked toward the exit. “maybe i’ll find a way to keep myself busy until you get out.”

he didn’t answer, but you could feel his eyes burning into your back as you left the room.

you knew you were pushing him, playing with fire, but that’s how you both liked it. this was the game you played. you couldn’t wait for him to remind you exactly who you belonged to.