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mandos-mind-trick · 1 year ago

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Eyes On Me

Summary: You wouldn't care if they heard. You wouldn't care if they saw. They already know you're in Tech's bunk.

Pairing: Tech x reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, p in v sex, fingering, slightly rough sex, clothed male unclothed female, glove kink, exhibitionism, slight pain kink, armor kink, this is absolute filth I am so sorry.

A/N: *Sweats* Uh, did I intend on making most of these about the Batch...not really. I just can't help it. I have no excuse for this one. Please forgive me.

MASTERLIST

The barracks are quiet, aside from the pounding of the rain against the window and the occasional rumble of snoring from Wrecker’s bunk. They’re all tired after a hard series of missions, back on Kamino for a short stay before they ship out again.

You only feel slightly guilty about what you’re doing, only that it might disturb them in their much needed rest. You stare up into those brown eyes above you, his gaze sharp and focused. One arm is looped behind you, hand covering your mouth to keep you quiet. His gloved fingers pinch into your cheeks as he muffles your moans, trying not to wake the others.

You wouldn’t care if they heard.

You wouldn’t care if they saw.

The kinds of things that made your pussy clench would make even Crosshair blush.

You, their sweet little medic, laying in Tech’s bunk with his gloved fingers knuckle deep in your pussy. His movements are slow and deliberate, fingers curled into that spot inside you. His armor presses into your side, digging into the dips and curves but you don’t care.

Tech had been the obvious choice for you, his quiet but commanding demeanor was alluring, and you work with him often. He’s eager to learn, and you posed your desires as a learning opportunity. A chance to gain knowledge in an area he had little experience in.

They were all rather looked over when it came to that area, mostly because they didn’t get chances for shore leave often. You were the first woman they had close contact with, which led to some interesting situations in the beginning. None of them had ever approached you with an offer, and you could guess they wouldn’t have, if you hadn’t approached Tech.

You know the others listen sometimes.

You love it.

Tech doesn’t seem to care either, his fingers stilling as he removes his hand from your mouth to tug your breastband up. He covers your mouth again, thrusting his fingers into you faster. You whine against his hand, suddenly aware of how silent the barracks have gotten. Even the rain seemed to stop, making the wet squelch of your pussy all the more noticeable. The lube he’d coated his glove in only made it louder.

Your eyes roll back as he drags the rough fabric covering his palm across your clit, your legs clamping closed as you cum around his fingers. He eases you through your orgasm, your breaths coming in pants from behind his hand. He stills his fingers inside you, holding them there. You continue to flutter around him, squeezing his fingers.

He finally draws them from your aching pussy, the black fabric sticky and coated in your cum. He shifts over you, moving his hand from your mouth. He presses two fingers against your lips and you take them in your mouth. He tastes like metal and plastoid, tangy and bitter on your tongue. You whimper around his fingers as he removes his codpiece with one easy movement, shoving it in the corner of the bunk.

You part your legs further as he opens his blacks, pulling out his cock. He’s hard already, his hand jerking the thick length. Your mouth waters around his fingers, drool slipping out of the corners of your mouth and running down your cheeks. He watches it for a moment before lining himself up.

You moan around his fingers as he presses into you, your pussy already raw and aching from his fingers. The stretch is almost too much, your whimpers loud in the quiet barracks. His fingers press against your tongue, cutting off all noise for a moment. You swallow around his fingers, breaths coming in gasps as he fills you.

The barracks are very quiet. They’re awake. They have to be. There’s no way they could sleep through this, even with Wrecker’s snoring. The thought makes you clench around Tech, his eyes snapping up to your face. He gives you a look, your body relaxing around him, allowing him to press in further.

You’re entirely exposed, the blanket pushed off to the side. Your breastband is up around your armpits, leaving your tits exposed to the cold air in the barracks, and to whomever just happened to look over.

Tech knows this too.

He angles his body just enough if they wanted to see, they could. His hips press flush with yours, his belt pressing into your stomach. His tools bite the inside of your thighs as they press against his sides. He starts to move, dragging his length along your walls. You moan around his fingers, hand sliding to grip the wrist of the hand that’s pressing into the mattress beside you.

His gaze is angled down, recording the way his length slides in and out of your wet pussy. For research, he’d claim. It’s definitely for him to watch later, when it’s harder for you two to get alone time.

“Let her go.”

The voice makes you jump, not expecting it. It’s rough and low, breathy and slightly muffled from the wall between the two bunks. Hunter. He can’t see what you’re doing, but no doubt he’s been able to hear the entire time.

Tech slips his hand from your face, drawing his fingers from your mouth. He snaps his hips into yours, a high pitched whine leaving your lips. It’s downright sinful sounding, putting those girls in those holofilms popular among the clones to shame. You continue to moan loudly as Tech snaps his hips into yours, the sound of your pussy rivaling the sounds coming out of your mouth.

You’re going to cum again and soon.

You hear quiet groans, the sounds of bodies shuffling in bunks. You go to turn your head but Tech grips your jaw, keeping your head still.

“Eyes on me.” He says slowly, his voice low from pleasure.

You want to see. You want to see them, hands in their blacks, watching you get fucked by their squadmate. You keep your eyes glued to Tech’s behind his goggles, arms falling open to give them the best view of your bouncing tits.

Your moans get louder, and for a moment you’re worried anyone walking by might be able to hear. It would be one hell of a reprimanding if you were caught in this position, and you’d likely get reassigned. The guys wouldn’t get much more than a stern talking to. They were too valuable to the Republic to risk decommissioning.

Perhaps that’s what made them so bold.

“Kriff, kriff, kriff!” You curse, crying out Tech’s name as you cum, writhing beneath him. He stills his hips, letting you ride out your orgasm around him. You can hear echoing groans from the others, desperate to turn and look but you know Tech won’t let you. He’ll force your gaze on him and only him. You also know he’s not done.

He’s far from finished with you.

Taglist:

@kaminocasey, @rosechi, @mxkyrie, @bobaprint, @star-trekker-0013, @padawancat97 @bamfahsoka, @rain-on-kamino

#star wars #star wars fic #the bad batch #the bad batch fic #tech x reader #tbb tech x reader #bad batch tech x reader #x reader #the dark side fic

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lynnerdo · 7 months ago

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* The heart is not meant to rule *

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader

Tag list: @wo-ming-bai

Slow burn, knife kink, blood kink, strangers to lovers, softer!Feyd-Rautha, CONSENT, 18+, arranged marriage, assassination, poison, murder, etc

Previous Chapter - Seduction Current Chapter - Travel south

***

You slam against the wall and let out a soft moan. It was obvious Feyd was restraining himself from ripping your dress apart and bending you over to be done with it. All the pent-up emotions from the last weeks ripping at the seams of his sanity.

His touch felt more than welcoming, like he was showing his true emotions for the first time, every form of doubt escaping your head. His kiss is hard and needy, as he becomes dangerously aggressive with his hands as well. He makes his way from your hips to your chest and snakes his hand around your throat, softly squeezing it. He breaks the kiss to look at you while he holds you against the wall.

You’re breathing heavily, face completely flush, lips plump and ready to take more. He takes his time, taking you fully in. His actions more so of a devoted follower, and you being his goddess. His raw emotions tugging at your heart, you move one of your hands to his face and cup his cheek. His eyes close as he leans into the touch, and he stays like that for a few seconds. As he opens them again, his eye contact is relentless, and he keeps your gaze as he moves to sit on his knees in front of you.

His eyes start to rake your body, going down your chest, your belly and following your legs down. In his opinion you’re still wearing too many clothes and he would love to make quick work of that. As he takes the dress’ skirt in his hands, he starts to rip it. Starting on the bottom and making his way towards your hips. It’s ripped straight down the middle, leaving you exposed to him. His mouth waters at seeing your bare long legs going up to your panties. His hands slowly move up your legs as he positions himself in front of you.

You swallow hard, and he looks up at you, eyes dark and full of want. He starts to pepper your skin with soft kisses, all around your panties. It almost drives you mad with how soft and slow he’s going, as you get wetter by the second. He enjoyed seeing you squirm a little at the uneasy feeling of need that came rushing over you.

“So needy, wife…” his fingers started to trail the area as well now, “what would you like me to do with that?” he mockingly spoke.

His question was rhetorical, as one of his fingers started to trail your pussy on the outside of your panties. You were so wet for him, and he enjoyed the humidity radiating off you. The soft fabric of your panties rubbed against your clit and elicited a few erotic moans out of you. You need to feel him on you, get devoured by him, but he was taking his sweet time. Without noticing you had left out a whiny moan.

He stopped what he was doing and stood back up. You looked at him questioning. He almost looked like he was smirking at you, mocking you even further. You took control into your own hands however, snaking your hands on top of his shoulders and unclasping his cape, letting it drop down to the ground. The cold air hit his unclothed back and he got chills all over. You started tracing the chains on the front again whilst holding eye contact. As your hands made their way towards the hem of his pants, he stepped closer to you, almost leaving no space between the both of you and the wall.

You move your hands softly, and teasingly, over his bulge and it elicits a soft breath from him. The touch almost being entirely too much for him but also not enough. You cup him in the palm of your hand, and his head falls forwards onto your shoulder. As you slowly tease him even further, he starts to kiss your shoulder and moves his way up to your throat, up to your ears, taking in your scent through your hair and you swear you feel him pulsate in your hands, growing larger.

“Does my Lord Na-Baron prefer hands, or would he like me to use my mouth?” you sinfully purr into his ears.

He never answers however and starts to pull you towards the bed. He forces you to sit down on the edge and before you know it, he’s on his knees in front of you.

“Mouth.” He smiles almost, as his hands go to remove your panties.

He traces your wetness with one of his fingers and sucks it dry, all while keeping his eyes fixed on yours. As he positions himself to get a better angle at your cunt, his hands snake around your thighs, pinning you down effectively. You let out a short breath as he suddenly licks your folds. He loses himself in the eroticism of it all and starts moving faster and faster. His mouth making a sinful sound every time he resurfaces to look at you. Your own face contorting in pleasure and extasy.

“I’ve been waiting for this for weeks, wife. You have no idea how thirsty I was. I should punish you for making me wait for so long.” He says in between kisses and tongue flicks, he even sounds a little bit angry, but his words just spur you on.

You take his head in your hands and bend down to kiss him, tasting yourself on him. Almost apologetically facing him like this. You pull him towards you, onto the bed and he kisses you deeper. His body language seems to calm down at this, and you manage to get him to lay down on his back. Somewhat submissive, this Harkonnen under you, you go down to remove his pants and throw them off the bed. His bulge is massive, and you wonder how he’ll ever fit inside you, one way or another.

His eyes are dark, but he awaits whatever you have planned next. What he doesn’t expect however is you turning around on top of him. You sit down on his chest and your wetness collides with the heat of his body. He has access to your fastenings from here and he starts to undress you from behind you. He slides the dress down your arms and pulls the remainder over your head. Your back exposed to him, he starts to trace small lines and imperfections he sees. You had a constellation of small dots on your entire back, and he wanted to remember them all.

As Feyd is busy with soft touches and being completely enamoured, you decide to release his cock from its restraints. You show down his underwear and expose him to yourself. He stops tracing for a few seconds as the cold air strokes his length unwillingly. As you make your move to grab his cock you feel Feyd’s hands on your hips, pulled you backwards over his chest. One of his arms making his way up your back and pushing you down, giving him access to your ass and if you went any further, your pussy.

You hum pleasingly as he kisses your ass cheeks and you move to lean onto your knees, giving him full access. He pulls you closer and you feel his nose hit your ass. His cock, dangerously big, hovering in front of you. You grasp it by the base and give it a few pumps. One of the hottest moans you ever heard comes from behind you and you feel Feyd’s grip become more tight, even painful at one point. His strength unmatched by your softness.

You relish in the fact that you could make him sound like that, and you move onto more. You spit on his cock to slick it a bit more and start to pump a bit more, precum wetting his head even further. Feyd is pressing you down into his mouth, his tongue fucking your insides and his nose pressing into your ass harshly. His hands grip and hold you down, making it impossible to move away even for a second. You decide to make him whimper like he’s doing to you, and without warning sink your mouth on top of his cock.

He almost let’s go of you, but instead moans unashamedly into your pussy. He didn’t expect this, and his breath is wavering a little, his body snapping to attention. You decide to drag it out of him and move teasingly slow on top of him, agonizing him, whilst bobbing your head. It almost felt like punishment for the both of you.

He tasted magnificent, almost sweet like liquorice, but he also had a scent about him of which you knew. You had noticed he smelled softly like Caladian rose, which he probably brought with him from Caladan. You felt like he was obsessed with you, and it only made you more willing for him. Both of your moaning increasing, and you even started to move in rhythm for him and his tongue.

One of his hands came up to your pussy and he inserted one finger, then two. The way he was pumping ever so slowly drove you mad, and you took his cock deep into your mouth and kept it there for a few seconds, moaning hard on it. Feyd closed his eyes at the vibration he felt and then continued to split you open with a third finger inserted. You let go of his cock with a pop and held it steady in your hand, slowly pumping the wetness all over.

You started to move away from him, wanting to turn around and look at him whilst you were pleasuring him, but he held you close, sucking away at your clit. He was relentless, his fingers doing more work than necessary, trying hard to make you cum. It didn’t take long of this to eventually make you see a white flash of light and stars afterwards. Your entire body shook on his fingers, and he let out a pleased hum.

As you were catching your breath, he didn’t leave you a lot of time to saver in the moment. He slapped your ass and ushered for you to move off him by pushing you to the side. You managed to gain some more control over your body over the next few seconds, but Feyd had moved faster than you imagined. Settling himself between your legs he finally saw you fully naked. He was breathing heavily, eyes dark as night.

Day had already fallen, and the room had a faint light covering you both. Moonlight made its way into the room and onto the bed from the open curtains a few meters away. Feyd looked magnificently beautiful, a perfect specimen.

Feyd had never been this hard before, your touch driving him crazy. He was convinced at one point you had been a witch, the way he felt so compelled to do things to you, or let you have all control over him. It felt new and fresh, and he never knew that this is what he craved. You lay under him, panting, face red and hair dishevelled. Some precum on your lips, pussy wet and willing for him, and it had all been your choice.

The sound you had made when you came on his fingers would be one he would savour for the time being. You had tasted deliciously, and your mouth had felt like velvet on his cock. He didn’t enjoy using the word ‘perfect’ often, but you had been for him. From the moment you walked to the altar, to right now, everything had been perfect.

He reached out to the dresser and took out a small dagger. He knew he might be testing you greatly this early on, but he also knew you would take it. For him. He unsheathed the dagger and started to run the sharp knife softly over your chest, circling your breasts with care and control. Eventually ending up at your throat.

He felt you swallow, and your breath hitched a little. This was obviously very new for you, so he wanted to make sure you felt comfortable enough before continuing. As he felt your breathing calm down, he cut slowly into the side of your throat, very shallowly. Your blood started to manifest itself and he reached down, licking it all up.

“We have been bonded by blood, wife.” He whispered in your ear, “you are mine, and mine alone.” He continued, voice hoarse almost, filled with desire.

As he moved away from you to look at you, you saw your own blood on his lips, covering his plump lips. The feeling all too intimate, you decided to make things more interesting. You sat up in defiance to his actions.

“Lay down husband, let me show you who I belong to,” you spoke angrily at him.

His eyes opened in surprise at your defiance. You even made it sound like he had no control over you. He submitted to your strength, but only for now, he thought. He’d have his way with you before the night was over.

As he lay down, you crawled on top of him, sitting your pussy on top of his cock, flat against his stomach. The sound he made was almost like a mewl, the contact both of your parts had sinfully wet and delicious.

You took the dagger into your hands and started to softly move your body back and forth. Your pussy stroking his length, preparing it for what’s to come. You moved the dagger to one of his nipples and cut him right under, another moan falling out of his mouth. Another small scar on his abs, and one on his collarbone. The blood was coming out slowly, but you had cut a bit deeper than he had.

You threw the dagger across the room and took some of his blood onto your finger, sucking off one of them, but moving the other hand to your exposed nipple. You rubbed it and your breast sinfully, as you kept moving back and forth on his cock, making the both of you even wetter. He couldn’t stop staring at you and your actions, your breast now covered with his blood, his mouth agape at the sight.

You bent down and took more blood from his collarbone and started to rub your clit with it. He grasped both of your legs in an attempt to refocus himself, you were driving him over the edge of sanity, and he was straining to control the last bit of humanity he had. You wanted him to become a mad dog, he was convinced.

What he was seeing felt like an ancient painting that inspired war, a woman worth fighting for. He understood the ancient tales of men dying because of a woman, the love they had for their wives or concubines, and how easily men were brought to death at the simple flick of a wrist by women. He felt compelled to let himself get swallowed into the dark void you create for him. Even just for tonight.

“I am yours, Feyd.” You spoke softly. “Do with me as you please.”

He took a few seconds to regain consciousness from the words he heard. Completely enveloped in what you were doing and the emotions he felt at your confession. He got up softly and placed you in his lap. His eyes scanned your body, soft and supple for him, wet and wanting for him. You were in a similar position as when you shared your first kiss.

It compelled you to kiss him, ever so soft. And he let you, pulling you into the kiss even more so. Long and soft kisses were exchanged, you started to feel a little bit emotional. You wondered if anyone was ever soft on him, if he had ever experienced softness like this. You realise it’s never too late to show him the softness he never received and craved so dearly, but all in good time.

Your kissing started to get a little bit more heated, and your mind transported you back to the damp grass, where you had showed self-restraint towards Feyd. Tonight was different, however. You had the privacy you needed to let your inhibitions go. As Feyd cupped your ass and forced you up on top of him again, your hands come up to hold his shoulders. He started circling your ass and pussy with his fingers, almost asking for entrance.

His cock was wet against your stomach, and you decided to move faster than him. As you grabbed it, he yanked your hand back however, taking back the control he had over you.

“All too needy, lady Atreides,” he spat out your previous name mockingly, reminding you of the first time he had said this to you.

Your giggle has returned, the alcohol making a reappearance. His face is serious however, and he decides to punish you for laughing at him. He slaps your ass hard, probably more intense than he wanted to. It smacks you awake, and it stings your ass. You let out a pained moan and stop giggling immediately. He holds both of your arms behind your back and grabs your throat.

“My little Na-Baroness forgets that she can’t always get what she wants,” he speaks as he tightens his grip.

You struggle against him a little bit, his grasp being all too hard. This would certainly leave bruises on your tender skin, one more sign he would relish in come morning. You almost feel like he wants to make you beg, the position he has you in uncomfortable for you. He has full control over your upper body and you’re not strong enough to use your legs to lift yourself up. He’s holding you steady and pinning you down at the same time. Pussy hovering over his wet cock.

You let out a pleading moan, for more air and release, but he refuses to give it to you.

“Is my little wife afraid? Is that what I see in her eyes?” his voice harsh, demanding and controlling every bit of breath that you have.

The way he says it stirs something deep inside of you, preferably where you would want Feyd to be at this moment, but you know why he does this. He needs to feel the control he likes to have; he needs to make sure you trust him like he wants to trust you. So, you let him, tears forming at your eyes from the intensity of his grip. You want to speak but he doesn’t let you.

“So eager to please, eager to control. Yield, wife.” His face right next to yours, his breath lingering on your lips as you manage to gasp some air in.

His grip loosened a little bit, in order for you to formulate an answer or response. You took a few seconds to breathe in and managed to clear your throat.

“I yield, husband,” you said with a defiant look in your eyes.

It took no more than a split second for him to let go of your throat and sink you down on top of his cock, gripping your hips with both hands and pushing you downwards. He stretched you open completely, feeling your walls clench him in all the good ways. You let out a gasp and a moan, as he moaned into your mouth.

You stayed like that for a few seconds, getting used to the feeling of each other, feeling his cock pulsate inside you, and letting your pussy get used to his girth. You knew he was going to be big, but the way he felt was driving you crazy. You just wanted to move on top of him, make him cum inside of you, feel him all over.

Feyd has never felt such a wet and willing partner, he had experience, but it never felt like this. So right for him, the perfect wife, he had to do everything in his power to keep him from releasing right then and there. As you started to move on top of him, he just let you do whatever you wanted. His previous words lost in the heat that you gave him. He closed his eyes to relish in the feeling of your wet cunt moving up and down on him and let himself fall on top of the mattress and into the pillows behind him.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw your body, marked with his blood, moving up and down slowly. Your hair falling over your tits which were bouncing softly because of your movements. You looked ethereal to him, and all he could do was pray at the altar you had created for him in his mind.

He felt incredible, almost splitting you open from where you were sitting, only able to move slowly so you wouldn’t hurt yourself in the progress. His hands grasping your legs hard, your hands coming up to his chest to stabilise yourself to move a little bit faster. As you started to feel secure in your movements he started to rub your clit with his thumb, agonisingly slow and soft. You felt yourself thrust forwards in order to get more friction from him, causing his cock to stretch you open even further.

The sounds you produced were absolutely sinful, and you didn’t know what to do with your hands at one point. Feyd decided to switch positions as he threw you off him and onto your back into the pillows. He looked at you and the state you were in and vowed to himself that he’d be the only one allowed to utterly destroy you. As he aligned his cock to your entrance again he had a sinister smile on his features.

“I wish I had done this to you back on Caladan.” As he lets his tip enter your wet hole he continues, “let everyone see how I fuck you in the damp grass,” his cock going deeper and deeper, “show everyone you’re mine,” he huffs out as your pussy fully takes his cock in.

You’re panting and out of breath, his eyes are drilling into yours and you know he’s serious about this. You also notice the way he said ‘everyone’ was pointed to remind you of Duncan. About how it drove him mad that another man could even think about claiming you as his first. Feyd was not going to have any of that, it would be clear to the world that you belonged with him, and you were willing to be with him.

He looked at you, struggling for something to hold onto, his cock stretching you to the fullest as you were panting. He started to move with a certain pace, snapping his hips and plunging his cock deeper with every thrust. It felt surreal, he was hitting every spot he could. His hands came down to your legs as he held onto them thrusting into you like he was possessed by something, spreading them open even more and the sight only spurred him on.

Both of you were breathing heavily, you more so than him, moaning like a common sex slave. The noises that he made you make would make you feel embarrassed had this had been another setting. It was obvious that he loved it when you were vocal however, as he grunted more the louder you got. He finally bent down to kiss you, roughly and hot. You managed to pull him down even more and held onto him as he set a fast pace fucking you raw.

You kissed his neck and broke skin when you bit him as he plunged harder into you, your own emotions becoming a bit more violent. He merely snickered at your actions, obviously relishing the fact that he was making his wife feel this good that she reverted to aggression. He would have a huge bruise later, but considered it a marking you placed on him, so others would stay away.

“Tsk tsk tsk wife, haven’t you learned to be nice to your husband?”, he mocks as he pulls out of you.

You let out a groan of dismissal, feeling the emptiness right now.

“Please, Feyd,” you beg, and his eyes spark fire.

He turns you around and pushes your head into the pillows, ass up facing him. You comply easily and feel him position himself behind you. As you sink into the pillows awaiting his throbbing member, you feel his hands in your hair. As he’s feeling around you notice what he’s doing.

“This is new for me,” he says as he grasps a load of your hair and yanks you upwards to him.

He does it all too hard and you make a strained noise. You feel his hardened cock on your ass and want nothing more than him to enter you at this point. He was breeding you to become his own personal sex slut and you didn’t care. He was experienced and not shy to share his needs and wants with you.

“Feyd, I need to feel you,” you manage to get out as one of your hands trails his hip, urging him to fuck you.

He doesn’t let go of your hair, instead he brings his lips next to your ear. He purrs almost, leaving soft kisses on the side of your face and sniffing in your scent through your hair.

“Beg.”

Is all he says before letting your hair go and shoving you down again. As he positions his cock at your entrance he slaps your ass again, hard enough for you to recoil and moan into the pillow.

“Please Feyd, please fuck me,” you manage to pant out.

It’s like music to his ears but he wants more. He slaps you again, urging you on to beg even more. You whimper at his violence, mewing like a hurt animal.

“My lord Na-Baron, please fill me with your seed,” you manage to get out as you move your hips backwards a little bit, his tip brushing your pussy.

He considers it, but grabs your hair instead, pulling you backwards again, your back flush with his chest, as he snakes his other hand around your chest to hold you steady.

“Do you need me that badly, wife?”, he mocks you openly, almost laughing at how pathetic you sounded.

You only manage to nod, given the position you’re in.

“Use your words,” he whispers angrily.

You swallow hard, feeling his cock brush against your pussy but not getting release, his torture was going to end you.

“I might die if you don’t, my lord Feyd-Rautha,” you manage to choke out.

The hand that’s holding your chest snakes down towards your pussy, and he rubs your folds softly. You start to pant like an animal in heat and push your ass backwards, in a sort of last effort to seduce Feyd. He goes for the bait and positions his cock against your entrance. In one swift movement he’s inside you, keeping up a fast pace whilst still bending you backwards, holding your hair. His free hand now goes to hold your throat and choke you a little bit.

His strength is what almost drives you over the edge, you feel safe and secure in his arms, even though he is making it hard for you not to fall apart completely. You try and match his rhythm and move along with him. Every time he goes in, you make it so he goes deeper and deeper. You’re so close at this point, and so is he.

He lets you go, and you drop down face first into the pillows again. He grabs your ass at both sides and relentlessly fucks you. You lose all control over your body and try to use your hands to keep yourself grounded but end up failing. You lean on your elbow while grasping the pillows in front of you to have any form of steadiness. You’re practically almost screaming at this point; he just feels that good.

“I’m-I’m so close Feyd!” you manage to burst out.

He stops what he’s doing, pulls out and turns you over. You almost whine at the fact that he killed your buzz right there, truly torturing you. As you position yourself on your back, he plunges into you once more. His pace erratic and almost possessive. One of his hands holds your throat and the other he uses to keep your leg up. Giving him full access and control over your body.

He keeps up this insane pace whilst drilling you down, making you see stars even before your orgasm arrives again. He’s staring at you, intense as ever, but also soft in a way.

“Kiss me Feyd,” you sound all too innocent when you ask him.

He obliges, and as he bends forward, he releases his choke hold on your throat, allowing you to tilt your head and kiss him deeply. The kiss is all too sweet, and as he deepens it, you start to lose all control over your body once more. Butterflies erupt from deep down below and you feel the need to become his entirely, let him have whatever he wants.

As your kiss slows down, he starts to pick up the pace of his cock destroying you again, keeping his face close to yours. It’s as intense as it can be, and you don’t need much more than that to feel your orgasm nearing again. The position he’s in hits the spot perfectly, as he feels you tighten with every move.

“Feyd, I’m-“ you barely manage to breathe out.

Your orgasm washes over you and you cannot control your body anymore. The clenching of your walls and the sounds you make bring Feyd right over the edge with you. As he continues to pump into you, his seed spills into you and a warm feeling envelopes you. He holds you as he softly slows down his pace and lets the last of his seed fill you. He kisses your neck and throat as he pulls out of you, his cum gushing out of you.

“My perfect wife,” he whispers in between kisses and bites.

You clasp your hands behind his head and pull him down for a deep kiss. He reciprocates and lets you have control over it. You’re heaving but manage to catch your breath. He feels so good and sweet. You let him go after a while and he stands up to look at his work. You’re on his bed, cum painted all over your legs and pussy, sweat dripping from you, his blood on your body, the bites and bruised skin he’s left, and he feels complete in that moment.

After staring at you for a while he goes to the bathing area to clean himself up. You join quickly after, and you help each other get clean again. He loves touching your body, even in a non-sexual way. You finish with the soaps and rinse off. As you reach for a towel, he pushes you against the wall and kisses you deeply, your naked bodies brushing softly. Both of you are slick wet and soaped up. He starts to go downwards, kissing your neck and teasing your nipple in his mouth. He pecks kisses lower and lower until he reaches your pussy again.

It's all soaped up and wet, just how he likes it. As he inserts two fingers your vision darkens again. This man was unrelenting, you wondered if his drive was ever off. As he starts to pump into you, he flicks his fingers just rightly, so it hits the spot every time. You start to pant again, a typical occurrence tonight. He gets up again, facing you, but his fingers stay where they are, driving you insane.

“Come for me,” he whispers in your ear, as he grasps your hair and pulls your head backwards. “Be the good wife you promised to be,” as your body bends towards him and his fingers drive you to extasy.

You come undone, completely. Your body shakes aggressively on his hand, as he tries to hold you steady against the wall. You’re mewling at this point, completely sated because of him. As he lets his fingers out of you, you sound a little disappointed and he brings his fingers to his mouth. As he sucks them off, he kisses you again, tasting yourself on his lips. It’s much too vulgar and erotic, and you’ve never felt so shameless before.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Feyd-Rautha,” you manage to speak out in between breaths.

He smiles darkly at you, his blackened teeth glistening.

“Only if you’ll allow me,” he poetically responds.

You don’t know what he’s implying but you don’t care. As you get properly rinsed off again, the both of you head towards bed and let yourselves fall into a deepened sleep, the scent of Caladian rose lulling the both of you to sleep, as Feyd’s arm is draped over your body and his nose nuzzled into your hair from behind.

#feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha harkonnen #house harkonnen #dune part two #dune part 2 #dune movie #dune 2 #dune #the heart is not meant to rule #feyd fanfiction #fanfiction

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dickinfectionbez · 5 months ago

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Bez danced his fingers on top of his head, looking down at him working on the tattoo.

"How much longer Ale?" He grumbled, tired of laying with his leg hanging of the seat. "A little long if you stop moving." Alecedro replied, "it would take less if you stopped moving." Bezz threw his head back, trying not to move his lower body. "When do I get to tattoo you?" A hand swatted his thigh as the tattoo gun moved away from his skin, a feather-light kiss placed on his thigh. "I'm nearly done Marco if you stop distracting me." Alecedro replied as he pulled the meat of Bez's thigh up, revealing the smooth skin where his hip met his crotch. He wiped the area down, laughing to himself as he watched pain flicker on Bez's face for a split second. He cut the second skin into a square, carefully applying it above the small cat tattoo.

"done." Alecedro said, standing up to press his hands into the shoulders of the tattoo chair, caging Bez's head between his arms. He stood towering above him as leaned down to kiss Bez, who pulled him in closer by the front of his shirt. Bez fiddled with the hem as Alecedro pressed his upper body on Bez, a hand moving from the chair down Bez's side and resting on his unclothed crotch.

He palmed his dick, pulling moans from his mouth. Alecedro felt Bez get harder in his hands. He pulled away, spit pulling between their lips and Bez sat up, chasing him. "I thought you wanted to tattoo me?" He watched Bez flick between thoughts, eyes moving a fraction as he panted. "Yeah." He said, not as enthusiasticly as he would have before the partial handjob. He slid off the chair and slipped into a pair of loose basketball shorts. Alecedro peeled the clingflim off the chair, disposing of all the equipment they had used and moved to the second prepared chair.

Alecedro settled himself on the chair, legs wide open. Bez settled down on the chair as well, between his legs as he watched him shave a small area on his upper thigh. With the area clean, Bez watched as he applied the stencil. The stencil a copy of the design that decorates the ass of Bez's leathers. Alecedro set the tattoo gun up and held it out to Bez. It wasn't the first time he had used a tattoo gun, the pair had spent countless nights together practicing on second skin.

Bez's hands trembled as he held the tattoo gun to Alecedro's thigh, a hand resting on his neck. He lightly grazed the line of the stencil, skin taking on colour. The line was wonky, an inch long at best. Bez put the still vibrating tattoo gun on the tray, Alecedro's hand slipping down from Bez's neck to grip his waist. Careful of not touching the stencil, Bez placed a hand on Alecedro's knee, kissing him hard. They pulled away, both hard in their shorts. Bez got off the tattoo chair, sitting on a stool with his chin on Alecedro's calf, watching him tattoo himself. Every now and then Bez would press a kiss to his knees.

Alecedro paused his tattooing, changing the needle cartridge as Bez pressed the bridge of his nose against Alecedro's calf while pulling his dick out his shorts. He pumped himself, face rubbing against Alecedro's calf as he continued to tattoo himself, a smug smile on his face. "Having fun?" He teased as Bez nodded in reply, close to the edge. Alecedro sat up and removed the needle cartridge from the tattoo gun and kept it on. He leaned down, pressing the vibrating cylinder against the head of Bez's cock. The new sensation threw Bez over the edge, he screwed his eyes shut, trembling as he came. Alecedro pulled the tattoo gun away, turning it off as he put it on the tray. With both hands he held Bez's face, kissing his parted lips softly.

The sat in comfortable silence as Alecedro wiped his tattoo down, applying the second skin on as Bez attempted to tidy up the mess he made.

#Adora and writing #Shit is getting infected sorry Bez.....#I started this as a joke....#Fuck I forgot what everyone was calling this pair.#Gatto Puzzo #I think

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takeyourcyanide · 4 months ago

Text

Кошмар

AO3

Fandom: Soul Eater

Characters: Franken Stein, Spirit Albarn

Word Count: 2 914

Tags: Nightmares, Dreams and Nightmares, Blood and Violence, Blood and Gore, Anxiety Attacks, Hallucinations, Delusions, Descent into Madness, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You

Summary: Stein has a nightmare, which leaves him rattled and serves as a particular reminder. He scrambles to make it through the day as usual.

Notes: I don’t think I’m going to finish this one in the way I’d originally wanted, so here, have it in its current state.

? - ?

With an oddly great and taxing amount of effort, Stein opened his eyes, groaning. A bright, white light flooded his vision, his index finger twitching, his body trembling. He instinctively lifted his hand and arm as to cover his squinting, pained eyes, only to feel a hand pull it back down and towards what was presumably its own body.

He jumped, his eyes widening. An agonizing sensation in his abdomen left him reeling, confused and disoriented. A scream could be heard from afar, one that sounded an awful lot like his own voice, muffled by what sounded to be both water and ringing.

He shifted his gaze downwards, his body frigid. He jumped once more - upwards this time, resting on his aching elbows, his heart plummeting somewhere unknown, as his breath slowly hitched, any and all oxygen entirely lost on him.

He’d been lying on a grassy field. The sky was overcast, but a little sunlight still managed to peak through the blanketing clouds. There was not a tree in sight, not a flower, not anything. The only sign of life sat directly in front of him, to the side of him, behind him- or should he say ‘signs’?

There sat three different people- people with the wings of vultures protruding from their upper backs. And each of them had his face. Each of them had his body. Each of them appeared to be him. And each of them were smeared, coated in blood- his blood.

He looked further down.

His intestines were hanging out from his unclothed abdomen, the greater omentum ripped away and ripped apart. The one sat in front of him, straddling him, held his intestines in its hands, in its mouth- intestinal tissue hanging from its sharp teeth.

The other sitting beside him was gnawing on his arm, gnashing its teeth together due to the sheer force and fervor with which it ate.

And the third, his head resting in its lap, was feasting on his brain, blood trickling down his face, falling into his eyes on occasion.

And there was another guttural scream, his body moving on its own accord as his legs and feet kicked and flailed around, throwing whatever it was that was seated on his thighs - himself - off and knocking the one to the side down like a bowling pin. Dominos, even.

Stein scrambled to stand up, a hand holding his guts in place, clawing his way out of the grip of the brain-eater, nearly tripping over his own feet as he ran as far away from them as possible.

A thought crossed his mind as his rapidly thumping heart seemed to replace his eardrums.

Was he already dead?

Stein glanced behind himself and over his bloodied shoulder. They were no longer there.

He heard strained breathing not too far away from him. He heard a continuous stream of footsteps much lighter than his own.

He whipped his head back around, throbbing eyes utterly transfixed on the horrifying sight before him.

The brain-eating one held an axe, a shining, sharpened axe. A burning glint of determination and frustration gleamed within its eyes, its irises the same muted shade of green his happened to be.

Stein nearly instantaneously threw himself around and backwards, desperate for an escape and prepared to run for miles.

That is until the one whom straddled his thighs and had apparently been behind him, waiting patiently and quietly, sunk its claws into his neck, purposely aiming for his carotid arteries, digging in deeper and deeper into his severing neck, blood spurting from the area, blood rising in his throat and falling from sore-ridden lips.

He gargled loudly, choking and truly unable to fill his lungs with air, as his eyes went back and forth between rolling into his head and maintaining their composure.

Before he could pass out or even die of shock, he felt heavy stones worth of weight leave him, as the world around him spun for the briefest of moments. It felt as though he were flying in the air- and once the side of his head and his cheek smacked against the plain below him, he’d realized he *had* been flying.

He spit out the remaining blood in his mouth onto the ground, dirtying the pure golden-yellow of the grass.

His eyes rolled back into their sockets for the final time.

06:24 - 06:38

Stein jumped, the motion vaguely familiar, his eyes shooting wide open. He used his elbows for leverage to sit himself upward, as he hunched over, scanning the room for anyone or anything in a frenzy.

He began rocking himself, his ragged, shallow, somewhat loud, and quick breathing not stabilizing.

His forehead was covered in a layer of sweat, his skin seemingly on fire. He looked around the room once more, tugging on the dangling handle of his lamp impulsively and frantically, before ripping his shirt from off of his body.

He immediately laid his quivering hand onto his abdomen, feeling around for any wound at all- even something as small as a bruise. He looked everywhere for any unfamiliar scars, any cuts - anything, his hands rubbing all over his head, even gripping onto and petting over his arm.

He was… fine? Then why did it seem so real? What was wrong? Something was wrong.

His heart and soul shook in unison, even more confused and disoriented than in what was supposedly a dream. A really vivid dream. That’s all it was, right? It wasn’t a sign? No one was going to do that to him? Would he do it to himself? That would be better. Was the deterioration going to eat him alive sooner rather than later? Would somebody else?

His body gently quivered, his thighs aching with each desperate hit he delivered them.

The walls looked strange, didn’t they? Something was wrong. Everything was conspicuous- everything was.. scary? Was that it? Was he scared? He’d surely never been so scared in his life. Someone wanted to hurt him. Right? That was a sign, wasn’t it? Something was going to happen.

His head jerked.

His head.

He forgot to check his neck!

He patted around his carotids, finding absolutely nothing but non-severed flesh- or, truly, yet-to-be-severed flesh.

He breathed a sigh of relief, his heart beating in his fingertips and toes. He wrapped his arms around his torso, running his nails around and down his upper and lower back.

“Argh..”

What sounded to be Spirit groaned in the hallway, his shuffling and footsteps becoming louder and louder.

Stein froze in place, gaze fixated on his door and the spot underneath it, listening closely, hushing his hyperventilating.

He allowed himself to sneak a glance at whatever shadow dashed in front of him, his eye twitching.

Spirit was awake, was he? That meant it was time to get up and get ready. He needed to calm himself. He hadn’t the energy for the simultaneously mundane and uniquely chaotic world of the academy. But he needed to. Was he just bad at self-soothing? He needed to get over himself. Something *was* wrong, but he shouldn’t be so rattled over it. It was just a dream, wasn’t it? It was a sign. Just a nightmare, but just a sign, as well, right? It was real, wasn’t it? Something was wrong. Something was off. Something was going to happen. But he still needed to get his act together. Was Spirit the one planning on killing him? No. He needed to stop. He still had work left to do. He couldn’t let the crawling and festering eyes take him just yet.

Stein put valiant amounts of effort into inhaling deeply and exhaling carefully and slowly. He continued his rocking, he continued his patting over his back, and was able to gradually stabilize himself enough to leave his room. Well, all he was actually doing was making the noisiness hopefully less obvious. It’s not as though the feeling disappeared. It’s not as though the eyes had disappeared. It was all still there, beating on his chest and bones, his heart remaining in an odd state. His heart rate never increased due to any sort of emotional circumstance. Why now?

He tried his best to ignore the sightings and sounds and everything following him to his door. He tried his best to ignore the lightheadedness and slight dizziness he was afflicted with, his shirt in his hand and coming up over his head again.

Did he need to shower? He didn’t have the time, nor energy. He couldn’t, they were bothering him. It was bothering him. It was just a nightmare. It wasn’t a sign. It was a sign. He couldn’t focus on that sign. He needed to remain in control. But if someone were to kill him or hurt him or anything, wouldn’t he be not in control? Which one was it? He didn’t have the time, nor energy to even consider.

He wasn’t going to be killed. The strident, reverberating static would have nothing to torment, then, would it?

He opened his creaking door cautiously, scanning both ends of the corridor before leaving, wiping the sweat off of his forehead with his sleeve, and childishly rubbing his tired, aching eyes.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Spirit’s teasing, pompous voice was so utterly grating on Stein’s ears that he could physically feel as agitation bubbled effervescently within him, biting down and suckling on his bottom lip for long enough to, God willing (or honestly, static willing), settle and tenderly hush the feeling before it could become too all-consuming.

He avoided even glancing at his weapon, of whom had gotten himself all dolled up already, and was sitting with his legs spread wide on the sofa, his arms outstretched confidently on its back cushions.

“Why aren’t you dressed yet? And where are your glasses?”

Oh. Well, maybe that’s why his eyes hurt.

“Go get dressed. And wear your glasses, dumbass,” he waved him off somewhat playfully with a prominent grin on his countenance.

Stein turned back around, yanking on and fiddling with his lips, and not permitting himself one singular groan or moan. He still had work left to do. He could dress himself. He could put his glasses on. Perhaps he’d even eat a snack. He couldn’t board himself in, he couldn’t wander around and pace all day, he couldn’t doze off staring at his computer screen. And, most importantly, he did not need a stupid caretaker. He could do all of that himself, and he could ignore the noise- the eyes, even if that meant that eventually they’d have chewed up all of his bone marrow, all of his corpus callosum.

He shimmied into his usual attire, the clothing he was at his most comfortable and familiar wearing, clothing that wasn’t disorienting and was something of a habitual tether. It was grounding and typical, though managed to make the unknown and distressing differences in his surroundings and reality even more apparent due to the newfound comparison.

Was his clothing suspicious, too? No. There was nothing wrong with it. No one tampered with it, the eyes didn’t scurry over it. He was fine. Everything was fine. He was perfectly normal- his normal, since he was apparently so horridly bizarre and foreign in the eyes of the humans.

He jumped - he never jumps - he jumped at the sound of birds singing a particularly fitting song outside of his window. Too fitting. Descriptive and telling. Was he living inside of a movie? No.

He beat his hand against his head, slapping his forehead in almost punishment, and in a pitiful attempt to refresh himself in a way only dissection could; euphoria and a shortly-lived reset, relaxation with a sadistic and scientific twist. No more thoughts. No more of *those* thoughts. But then they’d all have the upper hand- the eyes, the watchful ones, *them*.

‘I still have work left to do, goddamnit,’ he scolded himself for the umpteenth time. ‘Whether I think about it or not, it’ll be there. They’ll distort shit, they’ll add shit, they’ll take away shit. Just get over yourself and work anyway. Pathetic behavior is never a good look. You’re better than this, Stein.

But is he?

And should he allow that thought to cross his mind?

‘You can easily rip them all apart.’ A comfort. But he couldn’t rip the eyes apart, nor the static, nor the ones whom dashed. Only the flesh-bodied ones.

Franken retrieved his glasses from off of the floor where they’d evidently fallen from their rightful place beside his pillow, situating them on his twitching face.

‘You’re fine. Everything is okay. Everything is clear. Everything is normal. Nothing is wrong. You are calm and collected. You’re only imagining that supposed “gnawing.” You are only imagining everything. It is only the madness.’

He cracked his knuckles, his neck, even - rolling his shoulders and feeling them ‘pop.’

He fussed with his bangs, patting his renegade hair down, running his fingers through the soft strands.

He’d look how he typically looked, because he was perfectly fine. He could still work and train, he could still dress himself, he could still look somewhat presentable - or, at the very least, as presentable as he usually appeared - because he was fine. He did not need any conspicuous person’s help, he did not need reminders. And he was fine. He was only gaslighting himself into believing his head was swimming with lightheadedness and fatigue. He was fine. His heart did not feel funny. That nightma- that dream did not bother him at all. And most of all, he was perfectly fine.

06:48 - 06:54

“Are you okay?” Spirit’s hands were situated in his pockets, a pair of somewhat cat-eye-shaped (though he’d never admit it) sunglasses situated on his tan face.

He stared at Stein’s squinted eyes with his own squinted eyes…. Though his eyes appeared more sewn shut than merely ‘squinty’, whether it be only because of the sun’s obnoxiously radiant light or, too, because of the beads of sweat coming dangerously close to slipping and sneaking past his eyelashes.

“Why?” Franken muttered somewhat breathily as they turned yet another cobblestone corner, fairly muted but colorful buildings lining the streets rather scenically.

There was not a singular cloud in the sky to deter the panting sun’s rays, and they just so happened to be cascading onto both Stein and Spirit, as they walked side by side.

“Well… Uhm. You seem to have forgotten that it’s still summer,” he panned his hand over his meister’s outfit. “You’re wearing long sleeves and pants. Just because you’re usually cold all the time doesn’t mean you’re immune to overheating, Stein. You look as red as a damn tomato.”

“And you don’t?”

“At least I’m actually wearing something appropriate for the weather. We live in Nevada. This isn’t fucking Siberia.”

True. Touché, even. He was even wearing lighter colors; a white tank top, a silver necklace with a cross charm hanging just below his clavicles, and shorts the same shade of blue as his irises. It wasn’t exactly his usual style, but the desert heat truly couldn’t care less about your style or comfort.

“So, what, did you forget or something?”

“Didn’t think to check the weather, I suppose.”

“Can’t you just assume it’s hot?”

“Yes. …This time of year, at least.”

Spirit released a dramatic sigh as they turned their very last corner, now encroaching upon the tall staircase to the academy.

He ran a quick hand through his hair, patting away the moisture on his forehead with the back of his hand. He fiddled with his cross a few times, pursing his lips pensively.

“I know you don’t like certain clothing, and you like those clothes, and shit-“ and he also knew that there was more to it all than that, “-but you really need to start wearing some actual summer clothing. Wear something short-sleeved, or at least shorter-sleeved. Don’t want you dying on me. I’m responsible for you and all.”

“No.” The word slipped from Stein’s lips involuntarily. He hadn’t even formulated a response in his head, he was simply blurting now - and defiantly, at that. “Go away.”

“Well, you know if I don’t end up forcing you, Marie will.”

“I don’t want to be forced to do anything, Spirit. Nor will I."

“Then stop narrowly avoiding heat strokes!” Spirit removed his sunglasses from his face, sitting them atop his head fashionably. He sassily smacked his long hair away from his shoulders in slight annoyance. “One of these days you’re not going to be able to avoid ‘em! Anyway, you comin’ or not?”

Stein internally groaned at the sight of the daunting stairs he’d gone up countless times, Albarn standing impatiently on the very first step with his hands gripping onto his hips.

“Do you need help?” There was a furrow to his brows. Was he angry? “You look exhausted. And I seriously wouldn’t blame you. If I could, I’d wanna be carried up these things.”

Perhaps he wasn’t?

Was he attempting to lure him in? Mock him?

‘Shh.’

His eye twitched, as he stumbled over to where Spirit was.

“Here, take my hand.”

Stein peered down at the hand outstretched in front of him, analyzing each line and crevice, mentally dissecting the extremity. His fingers spasmed and trembled ever so slightly as he apprehensively cupped them around the older boy’s somewhat larger hand, which soon encased his own.

“I’m not gonna let you fall over and die, okay? You’ve looked woozy all morning. I noticed.”

“Okay,” he quietly replied with a thousand-yard-stare.

He looked further down.

The other sitting beside him was gnawing on his arm, gnashing its teeth together due to the sheer force and fervor with which it ate.

And the third, his head resting in its lap, was feasting on his brain, blood trickling down his face, falling into his eyes on occasion.

Stein scrambled to stand up, a hand holding his guts in place, clawing his way out of the grip of the brain-eater, nearly tripping over his own feet as he ran as far away from them as possible.

A thought crossed his mind as his rapidly thumping heart seemed to replace his eardrums.

Was he already dead?

Stein glanced behind himself and over his bloodied shoulder. They were no longer there.

He heard strained breathing not too far away from him. He heard a continuous stream of footsteps much lighter than his own.

He whipped his head back around, throbbing eyes utterly transfixed on the horrifying sight before him.

The brain-eating one held an axe, a shining, sharpened axe. A burning glint of determination and frustration gleamed within its eyes, its irises the same muted shade of green his happened to be.

Stein nearly instantaneously threw himself around and backwards, desperate for an escape and prepared to run for miles.

He gargled loudly, choking and truly unable to fill his lungs with air, as his eyes went back and forth between rolling into his head and maintaining their composure.

He spit out the remaining blood in his mouth onto the ground, dirtying the pure golden-yellow of the grass.

His eyes rolled back into their sockets for the final time.

06:24 - 06:38

He began rocking himself, his ragged, shallow, somewhat loud, and quick breathing not stabilizing.

He was… fine? Then why did it seem so real? What was wrong? Something was wrong.

His body gently quivered, his thighs aching with each desperate hit he delivered them.

His head jerked.

His head.

He forgot to check his neck!

He patted around his carotids, finding absolutely nothing but non-severed flesh- or, truly, yet-to-be-severed flesh.

He breathed a sigh of relief, his heart beating in his fingertips and toes. He wrapped his arms around his torso, running his nails around and down his upper and lower back.

“Argh..”

What sounded to be Spirit groaned in the hallway, his shuffling and footsteps becoming louder and louder.

Stein froze in place, gaze fixated on his door and the spot underneath it, listening closely, hushing his hyperventilating.

He allowed himself to sneak a glance at whatever shadow dashed in front of him, his eye twitching.

He wasn’t going to be killed. The strident, reverberating static would have nothing to torment, then, would it?

He opened his creaking door cautiously, scanning both ends of the corridor before leaving, wiping the sweat off of his forehead with his sleeve, and childishly rubbing his tired, aching eyes.

“Why aren’t you dressed yet? And where are your glasses?”

Oh. Well, maybe that’s why his eyes hurt.

“Go get dressed. And wear your glasses, dumbass,” he waved him off somewhat playfully with a prominent grin on his countenance.

He jumped - he never jumps - he jumped at the sound of birds singing a particularly fitting song outside of his window. Too fitting. Descriptive and telling. Was he living inside of a movie? No.

But is he?

And should he allow that thought to cross his mind?

‘You can easily rip them all apart.’ A comfort. But he couldn’t rip the eyes apart, nor the static, nor the ones whom dashed. Only the flesh-bodied ones.

Franken retrieved his glasses from off of the floor where they’d evidently fallen from their rightful place beside his pillow, situating them on his twitching face.

He cracked his knuckles, his neck, even - rolling his shoulders and feeling them ‘pop.’

He fussed with his bangs, patting his renegade hair down, running his fingers through the soft strands.

06:48 - 06:54

“Are you okay?” Spirit’s hands were situated in his pockets, a pair of somewhat cat-eye-shaped (though he’d never admit it) sunglasses situated on his tan face.

“Why?” Franken muttered somewhat breathily as they turned yet another cobblestone corner, fairly muted but colorful buildings lining the streets rather scenically.

There was not a singular cloud in the sky to deter the panting sun’s rays, and they just so happened to be cascading onto both Stein and Spirit, as they walked side by side.

“And you don’t?”

“At least I’m actually wearing something appropriate for the weather. We live in Nevada. This isn’t fucking Siberia.”

“So, what, did you forget or something?”

“Didn’t think to check the weather, I suppose.”

“Can’t you just assume it’s hot?”

“Yes. …This time of year, at least.”

Spirit released a dramatic sigh as they turned their very last corner, now encroaching upon the tall staircase to the academy.

He ran a quick hand through his hair, patting away the moisture on his forehead with the back of his hand. He fiddled with his cross a few times, pursing his lips pensively.

“No.” The word slipped from Stein’s lips involuntarily. He hadn’t even formulated a response in his head, he was simply blurting now - and defiantly, at that. “Go away.”

“Well, you know if I don’t end up forcing you, Marie will.”

“I don’t want to be forced to do anything, Spirit. Nor will I."

Stein internally groaned at the sight of the daunting stairs he’d gone up countless times, Albarn standing impatiently on the very first step with his hands gripping onto his hips.

“Do you need help?” There was a furrow to his brows. Was he angry? “You look exhausted. And I seriously wouldn’t blame you. If I could, I’d wanna be carried up these things.”

Perhaps he wasn’t?

Was he attempting to lure him in? Mock him?

‘Shh.’

His eye twitched, as he stumbled over to where Spirit was.

“Here, take my hand.”

“I’m not gonna let you fall over and die, okay? You’ve looked woozy all morning. I noticed.”

“Okay,” he quietly replied with a thousand-yard-stare.

#soul eater #franken stein #stein #stein soul eater #dr stein #spirit albarn #spirit soul eater #soul eater franken stein #franken stein soul eater #soul eater spirit #soul eater fanfic #soul eater fanfiction #takeyourcyanide

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coochiequeens · 6 months ago

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While opposition to men in women’s prisons should focus on the safety of incarcerated women don't forget the impact dealing with these perverts have on female guards.

By CAROLINE DOWNEY May 28, 2024 6:30 AM

Female prison guards in California have been traumatized after being forced to perform naked strip searches on male felons under the state department of corrections’ gender-inclusion rules.

For decades, the department prohibited female officers from conducting unclothed strip searches on male inmates except in emergency circumstances, such as when a same-sex officer is not available or if the male inmate is at risk of harming themselves or others.

Now, “Incarcerated individuals who are transgender, non-binary, or intersex must be searched according to the gender designation of the institution where they are housed or based on the individual’s search preference,” according to official prison policy obtained by National Review.

This sudden shift in policy, officially implemented in 2021, has shaken female staff at the California Institution for Men, colloquially known as Chino. Some male inmates who identify as women, or have even undergone transition surgeries and hormone therapy, choose to stay at Chino rather than request a housing transfer to a women’s facility, such as the California Institution for Women.

While there, trans-identifying male inmates are entitled to request that they only be searched by female guards. The female guards are required to perform the searches or face penalties or termination, former and current female Chino officers told National Review.

Recently retired after 22 years as a corrections officer at Chino, Paula James experienced firsthand how the decision to accommodate trans-identifying inmates has made the state prison a scary and unfair place to work.

“As a corrections officer myself, I wasn’t supposed to be stripping male inmates down,” James told National Review. “You’re not supposed to unless it’s an emergency situation. You can get in trouble, it’s considered rape. . . . I’ve been taught that my whole career. Then all of a sudden, now some of these men are saying they are women, but they still have all the parts.”

Two years ago, at the facility, James was told she had to strip-search a trans-identifying male inmate on suicide watch who was checking in to the mental-health department for a 72-hour hold. There was no other female officer around that day to do it, she said.

“I told myself, ‘I’m getting ready to retire, I don’t want to have to do this,’” she said. “But that day I felt pressured into doing it. My sergeant told me I had to do it.”

Another female officer came into the bathroom to cover her as she frisked the inmate.

“The whole time, this inmate is making me feel like I’m doing something wrong,” James said.

Acting embarrassed, he covered his chest area and male genitals. James had to ask him to move his hand to make sure he wasn’t concealing a weapon or drugs to self-harm. The inmate requested on paper that a female rather than male officer check him.

“I didn’t feel comfortable about it, but I had to do my job,” she said.

James started to cry on the phone as she recounted the day. With a background in nursing, James said she didn’t expect to be so shaken from the incident. It felt degrading for both her and the inmate, she said.

“I didn’t realize how disgusted I felt after that until I walked out,” she said. James said she broke down in front of her friend as she explained what had happened.

“It was just not right,” she said. “Because I had been taught all that time that I wasn’t supposed to do that. It was really hard on me, even thinking about it today.”

While they’re now required to search male inmates, not so long ago, female officers could be punished for searching inmates of the opposite sex, even if they felt the search was justified due to an emergency situation.

A corrections officer of 19 years, who chose to remain anonymous out of fear of professional retribution, was transferred to Chino from a maximum-security facility in 2017, before the current gender-inclusion policy was implemented. Soon after arriving at the prison, the guard was disciplined for searching a male inmate who a colleague believed was hiding potentially dangerous contraband.

The search was conducted after a fellow female officer asked the guard for assistance because she witnessed what she believed was an exchange of contraband between two inmates who were prohibited from interacting.

“Just as I’m approaching him, the toilet flushes, which is a sign that he probably got rid of the contraband,” the guard said. “So, I conducted a clothed body search on him, and she was right there next to me. I ended up doing an unclothed body search, which our policy states that a female can under emergency circumstances.”

The guard said she deemed it an emergency because her friend was sure she saw a weapon or drugs in the man’s possession.

“I was completely professional about it and that was it,” she said.

Months later, she received the highest possible level of disciplinary action from her superiors. She appealed the decision on the grounds that the policy is ambiguous about what circumstances qualify as an “emergency.” She lost the case. An official in Chino’s employment office told her confidentially that the department wanted to fire her over the incident.

“Back in 2017, it was two male inmates, but now here we are seven years later, and they want me, if I’m given a direct order, I must strip out that trans inmate,” she said. “What’s the difference from when I stripped out that male inmate to now? It’s still a man.”

Prison officers are told in training that they could be fired for refusing to do a search on the opposite sex because “it’s refusing a direct order from your sergeant,” said James, the recently retired corrections officer.

While some younger female officers are more willing to comply with the new gender-inclusion policy because they’ve never experienced anything different, others expressed concern to James before she retired.

“I had younger officers coming to me saying, ‘Ms. James, what am I going to do?,” she recalled. “They want us to do this with these inmates now.’

Other female guards have reported to James that they think male inmates have requested to be searched by women “just to make the officer see them.”

Asked for comment, the California Department of Corrections reiterated that SB 132, The Transgender Respect, Agency and Dignity Act, allows incarcerated transgender, non-binary and intersex people to request to be housed and searched in a manner consistent with their gender identity.

“Ongoing training for staff and incarcerated people is paramount when handling the unique challenges facing this population,” the department said. “CDCR has developed and provided specialized training to staff to ensure they are aware of laws and departmental policies and to give them the knowledge and tools they need when interacting with the incarcerated transgender and non-binary communities.”

Paula confirmed that California, like Washington State, subsidizes transition procedures for male felons on taxpayer dime.

“We had a guy that was doing 60 years, he was a rapist,” James said. “He became a female, and he was going to go to the female facility, but they paroled him instead. I couldn’t believe it. . . . This guy got released to the streets.”

Once that inmate underwent the intervention, many other trans inmates started seeking out the procedures, she said.

“A lot of sexual predators, I hate to say it, are getting the surgery,” she said. “Even child molesters. It’s not good.”

One male inmate at Chino, after getting a phalloplasty, was brought back to the facility with durable medical equipment. One tool he was given was a dildo, to prevent the incision from closing, the anonymous female officer said.

“The state pays for them to have hair removal,” she added. “The state pays for them to have breast implants. The state pays for them to go to vocal classes.”

James, who worked in the medical area of Chino, often heard the crimes of the male patients.

One such patient was found guilty of consuming child pornography and sexually abusing his girlfriend’s daughter, she said. He too received the surgery from the state, she said.

“I was like, ‘Oh my gosh, why are they able to change to a female, then they can be, if they ever get out, they can prey on their victims even more?’” she said.

#usa #california #KeepPrisonsSingleSex #Perverted men requesting to be searched by women

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beansprean · 1 year ago

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Queening the Pawn Act 3 Part 10

REUPLOAD due to the original getting flagged. Unfortunately have to slap a community label on this one just in case, but it is also still public on Patreon!

Acts 1-2

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1. Close up on the Guide as she moves into the blank gray room, eyes focused intensely on its contents. Naked oily dream Guillermo stays behind her, arms crossed at attention behind his back, and cranes his neck out to one side to see. He asks, "Is this the memory you were looking for?" The Guide responds, "Yes...This is it. This is him."

2a. Close up on the red file box that reads '1758-1759 Willem Van Helsing' as the Guide kneels on the floor in front of it and strokes the lid, her arm and knee the only visible parts of her onscreen. She reads aloud, "...Willem Van Helsing..." 2b. Reverse shot of the Guide looking down at the box with some confusion and a dazed kind of nostalgia. She murmurs to herself, "I think I must have called him something else..." 2c. Extreme close up as Guide curls her fingers under the lid of the file box and lifts it.

3a. Shot of the Guide from the front as beams of multicolored lights burst out of the open box, blowing her hair back and casting strange shadows up and down her face. Wide eyed, she leans toward the opening as flashes of memory begin to beam themselves out and pile up behind her. 3c. A series of flashes within the light streaming from the open box: A man with dark hair and sideburns in a fancy gold 1750s suit dancing closely with a blonde woman in a pink dress from the same period, their faces turned toward each other and unseen by the viewer. Action shot of that same man in a plainer brown coat slashing across the screen with a bloodied wooden stake, eyes wild behind his arm. A man's hand outstretched, asking for a dance. That man standing in a gold suit, holding a delicate glass of champagne in his large hands and glancing over toward the viewer to offer a smirk. Close up of the man laughing, naked, leaning his head on one hand as if laying in bed with someone. Close up of the man in profile, looking back with a secret smile as he turns away. Close up of the man, naked, flushed, sweating, hair bouncing in motion, as he grins at whomever is under him. Shot of the man's naked back as he sits up and rolls away from a bed; a pale arm from the viewer's POV is following him, tracing the long pair of scratches that have been dragged down his back.

4a. A scene in sepia, on a mottled pinkish-gray background printed on a cracking pane of glass. Willem, unclothed, has his back to the viewer and a set of visible puncture wounds on his neck, bleeding sluggishly. In his lap is the Guide, or whoever she was before she was the Guide, hair wild and bouncing around her shoulders and over her face. She has one hand braced on Willem's shoulder and the other clutching at his back. She pants, blood smearing at the corner of her mouth, and tips her head back with a blissful smile as Willem's hand squeezes around her throat. He asks, "How do I taste?" She replies, "Hhaaa...filthy." 4b. Close up in profile. Willem laughs in response and begins to mouth his way down the Guide's chest, the hand at her neck loosening but keeping up a firm squeeze with the thumb and forefinger. The Guide tips her head back even further, smiling open-mouthed with his blood tricking down her cheek. 4c. Shot from above as Willem, hand having abandoned its choking in favor of squeezing the Guide's right breast, suddenly bites into her left. The Guide's eyes fly open, shocked, staring past the viewer at the ceiling above. The background fills with a blood splatter pattern. 4d. Full body from the side as the Guide leans back from her seat straddling Willem's lap, right hand flying up to cup the area and inspect the large bloody bite mark that is now present. Willem sits back as well, hands cupping the Guide's hips as he snickers, blood smeared across his teeth and face. The Guide scolds, "Wim!! Why-why would you do that?! You drank my blood! You will turn into a vampire now! Willem replies, chuckling, "No, I won't."

5a. Close up in profile, the background turned dark red with DNA swirls. Willem leans close and pinches the Guide's chin with his thumb and forefinger to pull her in as well, her blood dripping down his chin and his own blood now smeared on his hand as well as her cheek. He grins cockily and continues, "We never do. Bite away, baby. You'll only make me stronger." The Guide's eyes hood over in pleasure and submission, a small smile curling her lips. 5b. Repeat. They both lean in further for a kiss, to mingle their blood even further. Willem, lips still curled up in a grin, drags his hand back down to rest against the Guide's throat. The edge of the glass panel begins to crack and break off into pieces, revealing the black void beneath.

6. A series of broken glass shards falling down the screen on a black background, each containing fragments of another memory. The Guide in a nice pink dress, blood smeared all across her mouth and chin as she hunches over something, eyes looking up through her hair like a cornered animal. Wim in a gold suit standing to watch, looking unsure, the glass panel breaking over the arm he had been holding a stake in so that it drops. A pale hand with pink nails placing itself into a much larger one, accepting the dance. Broken into three pieces, a shot from behind Willem, shirt shrugged off his shoulders but still hanging to his belt, holding the Guide to him, bared of her dress to the waist, knees hooked around his hips and one arm looped around his neck as the other cups his face to pull it into a kiss. A sliver of a dark alley, two forms pressed close in the foreground as another wafts cigarette smoke from around the corner in the background. A close up of Willem's hand, dressed in a sleeve, pinning the Guide's down by the wrist. A close up of a human man, older and sporting a heavy mustache, peering around a wall with a cigarette in his mouth, looking very displeased. Willem laying on the ground, gagged, and dead or close to it, blood pouring from his neck to pool on the floor. The Guide in a mulberry dress, struggling as clawed vampire hands grip at her arms and wrists to drag her forward. The glass breaks above her nose, but a shard of one wide, terrified eye remains nearby. The Guide in profile in her mulberry dress, held by the arms by unknown hands, tips her head back and screams as hundreds more hands thrust out at her from the darkness like a rushing wave, the background pulsing with unnatural green light. A shard of the Guide's eye, rage and terror fading as green reflections flash past. A shard of smoke wafting upward. A shard showing blood dripping onto the floor. A shard showing a silver crucifix laying alone, broken in half and smeared with blood. A shard of the Guide pulling on a familiar pair of leather gloves. Each shard gets smaller and smaller until they fade into the darkness. /end ID

#wwdits #queening the pawn #wwdits the guide #willem van helsing #blood tw #death dw #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows fx #my art #fanart #fan comic #image described

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akittyboy · 3 months ago

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Another Life (part 1): Eunyu

Sweet Home FF | Hyunsu x Eunhyuk

Summary: After everything has been said and done, there are still things that Hyunsu doesn't seem to remember. Warning/tags: mild angst, partial memory loss, emotional constipation, slow burn, mxm, no smut, found family, getting together, mild gore. Word count: approx. 16k for the whole thing, but will be posted in parts.

A/N: This takes place sometime after the video montage at the end of season 3, and then jumps back a little to season 1. I hope the characters won't be too OOC but this show has me in a chokehold and I had to do SOMETHING. Just know that creative liberties were taken… and by that, I mean that I watched My Demon after binging all seasons of Sweet Home, so any sort of lines are blurred at this rate. Anyhow, imagine that the trio of Hyunsu, Eunhyuk and Eunyu eventually break off from the rest of the survival camp to do their own thing. This is a slow drip, mostly about feelings and an attempt at character study so don't expect any plot. The title of this fic was inspired by Tom Odell’s song Another Love, as in ...all my tears have been used up on another love. Also, I'm new to tumblr so be kind >_< thought I'd try this thing out. Cheers~

There's tentative relief on weary faces for the first time in many months when the monster pandemic hits a perplexing development; being devoured by one's inner demon isn't the end — it's the beginning of an evolutionary process only known to the elusive laws of the universe. Nonetheless, the primal fear of the unknown is still there, lurking in the recess of everyone's minds, even if it's not as paralyzing as it once were when the bizarre outbreaks first started.

Hyunsu stares somberly from the vantage point of a rooftop, or what's left of it really, at the demolished skyline that glitters in the far distance. The once tall, silvery sky-scrapers are now noting but crumbling blocks of pixels — admittedly, his whole damn life feels like a crumbling Tetris game at this rate.

With a heavy chest, Hyunsu closes his eyes on the absurd view. There's no use to mourn what once were. They're way past it, heading into a new era of humanity. And to think that it wasn't a world war nor an atomic nuke that had caused all of this mess, but a freaking curse. So before another peaceful moment gets cruelly taken away from him, Hyunsu leans against the railing, elbows perched atop it and tips his head up to face the delicate sun, enjoying its lukewarm rays caressing his skin.

It's an early spring. The morning chill still nips at bare cheeks and unclothed fingertips, but right around noon the bleak rays of the burning star, slowly but steadily, manage to warm whatever's left of their collapsing civilization. The natural order of things doesn't stop for anything. Like a sight for sore eyes the wild nature thrives now that there are no humans selfishly plundering its dwindling reserves or polluting its untouched terrains. But all the same, the bustling, green forests with rustling foliage and chirping birds are nothing but a mocking delusion of serenity, covertly hiding nightmare-inducing horrors within.

It's the silence, Hyunsu decides. It's so much worse than the screeches of bloodthirsty monsters and wails of humans on the brink of death, desperately begging for their lives. It's too quiet, too ghostly everywhere. If he ever believed in anything remotely religious, then he's quite sure, that this is how purgatory would look like — a damned place between heaven and hell, nor living or dead, an eternity of anxious uncertainty.

A flicker of motion, a shadow against a sliver of light, catches Hyunsu's attention even through his closed eyelids. Since he's aware that they're in a somewhat secure area, Hyunsu suppresses the sudden sense of urgency zapping through his body and instead opens his eyes slowly, almost lazily to the bleak light. It's Eunyu. He watches with vague interest as her slim silhouette drifts around the neighboring rooftop, a piece of ingenious engineering that hasn't yet crumbled during the ongoing war against humanity.

She has been doing this for a while now. Her human memories coming and going like a fickle tide and when something sticks long enough Eunyu ends up imitating it, steadily, with almost surgical precision going through the motions, cataloging every move and sensation inside her rewired mind.

Eunyu must have felt his stare, as she looks up, eyes grave and bottomless, lips faintly parted. She lowers her arms, letting them hang limply at her sides and gradually, limb by limb, turns her body around. The debris crunches lazily under her worn sneakers.

Eunyu looks detachedly at Hyunsu for a few seconds, face expressionless, and then tilts her head to the side in perfect imitation of curiosity.

She looks human, and yet—

Ignoring the pinch in his gut, Hyunsu smiles at her gently from afar. He's afraid to break the brittle illusion of normality and overwhelm her with everything he's feeling at the mere sight of her — everything she embodies; a wild force he once thought couldn't be crushed; a frail beginning that shouldn't be possible. And for a moment his mind gets caught between their strange existence, the long ago abandoned dreams that would make no sense in this fucked up world and the recurring everyday nightmares, a goading voice constantly whispering at the back of his mind.

What if?

What if they all had died?

What if Hyunsu had been the one to kill them?

What if everything is just an illusion inside his head?

Eunyu simply keeps staring at him, waiting, observing. She doesn't understand, can't read the emotions crashing across his face that's smeared with sweat and grime and dust. There are whole cities out there covered in dust — and blood. There's so much blood. Hyunsu can't get rid of it beneath his fingernails. No matter how much he scrubs and scratches at it in echoey bathrooms of abandoned buildings with hysterical sobs bubbling up inside his chest and manic laughter resounding in his ears, it's still there, deeply imbedded into his skin. Some nights he wakes up in cold sweat with a sour, metallic taste in his mouth from choking on gallons of lukewarm blood in his dreams, and needs to remind himself that he's no longer at the underground research facility, that all of it is over.

There is no government or politics, no military. No rules or even a society. All that's left is grueling survival for those who lived, huddling in the shadow of a new species.

Other nights he can't find his way out of his nightmares.

The forced smile slips slowly off Hyunsu's face. Perhaps it's better to be dead in this world, after all.

The monster inside of him doesn't disagree.

A chilly breeze chases through the hollow high-rise structure with a faint howl in the prolonged moment that unyieldingly stretches between them, cruelly trapping them in its deafening silence. The wind ruffles through Hyunsu's overgrown bangs, tugging on an edge of Eunyu's plaid skirt — god knows where she managed to scavenge it. With her hair loose and skin free of infected wounds and puckered up, unkind scars, Eunyu looks so much alike the first time he saw her on the roof of Green Home apartments, yet so very different. A bit older. Impersonal. Nothing but a perfect shell of her former self.

A nasty shiver rushes down Hyunsu's spine, prickling uncomfortably at his lower back and he averts his eyes before he crumbles under the weight of her placid gaze, under the painful twist of guilt in his gut.

No matter what, he should've done better. Should've fought harder to protect, to bring the people he cares about back from the brink of madness, before their personalities — their whole souls were sucked into the void.

But not everyone could be saved, and not everyone wanted to.

Hyunsu's shoulders hunch up as he casts his gaze down, blinking back the burn in his eyes, heart racing. He knows. He knows that Eunyu has a long way to go before she can even begin piecing together the broken shards of her lost humanity. She's not a completely lost cause. There are worse; people that can't sate their monstrous sized desire, forever lost in a fever dream; peaceful monsters that are killed ruthlessly before they even get a chance to return. It's just Hyunsu's own fault that he keeps foolishly forgetting about it. Each time their eyes lock he expects to find closely guarded fierceness and a smidge of familiar arrogance, perhaps sorrow imbedded deep within her brown gaze, a flicker of affection, a bit of teenage insecurity and rebelliousness.

However, there's nothing.

Just peace and serenity. No desire. No warmth.

Debris crunches under a pair of heavy booths and there's soon a familiar presence at his side, a cool hand on the curve of his tense shoulder. It's Eunhyuk.

next part >>

#sweet home #cha hyunsu #cha hyun-soo #lee eunyu #lee eunhyuk #fanfic #mxm #hyunsu x eunhyuk #sweet home season 3 #kdrama

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cilil · 2 years ago

Note

If you still doing the kiss prompt and you don't mind, angbang 12 or 19?

Author's Note: I'm still in the process of writing all the requests I collected so far ^^ anyway I really liked these ideas so I had to add one to the list. Hope you enjoy!

⋆ ｡･ ☾ Drabble ⋆ ｡･ ✩

A trail of kisses

"You are beautiful."

Pairing: Melkor/Mairon | Angbang

Prompt: Caressing inner thigh then slowly leaning in to trail kisses (no. 19 of this lovely post)

Synopsis: Melkor and Mairon enjoy each other's company in the forge while Aulë is away.

Featuring: Fluff & a bit of spice~

Drabble (~550 words)

"You are beautiful."

Icy blue eyes looked up to meet liquid gold, gleaming with adoration and desire.

There was no other way to describe what Melkor saw at this moment. Mairon, half-sitting, half-lying on his work bench, breeches pulled down to his knees. Cheeks flushed, eyelids fluttering, one hand covering his mouth to stifle a gasp. So deliciously flustered, so embarrassed about his fána's reactions.

Precious.

Melkor reached out to caress his inner thigh, fingertips grazing his skin with featherlight touches.

"P-please, my lord... Master Aulë could return at any moment..."

"Don't worry about him, little flame," he purred. "He shall not see me here."

Lowering his gaze, he admired how lean muscles twitched in response to his gentle touch. Oh, his precious was especially lovely like this.

"I will seek you out again should I be forced to leave, as unfortunate as it would be."

An impish smile lit up Melkor's features as he leaned in to place a kiss on Mairon's inner thigh. His skin felt so soft against his lips, making him wish to cover his entire fána in little kisses and explore every inch.

"So pretty, so good for me," he whispered.

The praise caused Mairon to blush even more, and he let out a small, hesitant noise of contentment when Melkor continued to trail more and more kisses up his thigh.

"My precious..."

"Melkor... mmh..."

By the time the Dark Vala's lips reached the area between his legs Mairon was breathless, hand finally dropping from his mouth as he gasped for air. His eyes had trouble following Melkor's movements, and his lips parted as if he meant to speak up, yet any protest he might have uttered vanished when the kisses suddenly stopped.

Upon being met with a look of confusion, Melkor chuckled and shook his head.

"Will you not let me kiss the other one as well? I wish to take my time admiring you."

"B-but of course, my lord," Mairon replied and shifted on the workbench to grant easier access.

Melkor took hold of his thigh as if he was picking up a delicate piece of art. It was becoming harder and harder to ignore the waves of heat within his own fána, but he forced himself to remain patient and alert to his surroundings, like he had promised. Yet he couldn't resist letting his teeth graze Mairon's unblemished skin and, when he was rewarded with a small moan in response, marking him with a gentle bite.

Mine. And if anyone were to see the Maia's fána unclothed, they too would see that he was.

"Melkor, please," Mairon whined, his back arching oh-so-beautifully as he attempted to hold still.

Melkor wanted to ask him what he desired, offer to fulfill his secret fantasies and show him what pleasure their fánar could bring, yet before he could do so he sensed the presence of Aulë drawing near, returning to his halls. Mairon felt it as well, suddenly tensing up underneath the Dark Vala's hands and lips.

"I am afraid you have to go now, my lord," he said quietly. There was an air of reluctance and disappointment about him, yet they both knew he was right.

"A pity," Melkor mumbled and rose to his feet after pressing one final kiss to his thigh.

"But worry not, my precious. I will return to you as soon as I can."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

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javertafterdark · 1 year ago

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Monster MC May: Jolene the Mermaid

AKA Jolene enters her misandry era.

Yeah I made this for @property-of-diavolo ‘s Monster May event. It kinda got away from me. Jolene is a singer, so my mind went to a mermaid. Totally inspired by the mermaids in pirates in the carribean.

Word count: 2,608. SFW - Mild violence, mentions of nudity, vague suggestive themes.

The heavy fog bounced the light of the two moons evenly across the beach, leaving the sand and sea in a hazy grey glow. The gloom matched Leviathan’s mood; Lucifer knew damn well that Levi had been chomping at the bit to play the new TSL mod for DemonSouls, yet he’d been called to deal with some eMeRgEnCy!!1 at the beach. It must have been a pathetic, useless emergency if they had to call in a pathetic, useless, gross-

“Leviathan! Over here!” Levi jumped at the booming voice. Lord Diavolo was here, too? Maybe there really was an emergency. Levi trudged through the sand to where he and Lucifer stood. Lord Diavolo smiled, still somehow unfairly handsome even as he held back worry. “I’m glad you could come so quickly.”

“What’s going on?” Levi asked, glancing between the two of them.

“It’s Jolene.” Diavolo’s smile faltered and he folded his arms. “She’s run off.”

Levi’s widened. “Fwarh?? What- what happened?”

“There was an… accident involving a bottle of monster essence.” The way Lucifer side-eyed Lord Diavolo explained all needed backstory. His brother sighed before continuing, “Anyway, when it hit Jolene, she seemed to have trouble breathing before teleporting away.”

“And we think she teleported to the sea because ocean water and a fish common to this area spilled into the classroom,” Lord Diavolo said before grinning at Levi again. “That’s why we’ve asked you here. No one else is better suited for the job.”

Levi felt his stomach swirl into a whirlpool. Of course the situation was urgent, 9but Lord Diavolo just said no one else was better suited for the job! What the fuck! “I- arghm- I mean yes sir! You can count on me!”

With a few more words of encouragement, Leviathan jumped into the water. His heavy tail propelled him through cold depths as he scanned the corals and seaweed for any sign of Jolene. Of course, there was every chance she wasn’t here, and he really was useless. Levi felt the urge to heavy sigh, but breathing underwater wasn’t the same as breathing on land. A voice pierced through the water, enveloping him like a silk cocoon. But that clear and mournful tone, he could have recognized it anywhere.

“Jolene?” Levi looked all around him, unable to tell where the haunting melody came from. Jolene swam up from below him and the demon felt his mouth run dry. Her black hair flowed around her like a cloud of ink, a sharp contrast to the white skin of her unclothed body - no, upper body. Beyond her waist, lavender scales knit into her skin until they completely overtook her and fused into a long tail adorned with translucent fins along the edges and the tip. As she sang, she gazed at him with more despair than anyone should ever go through. Levi felt her isolation freeze his bones solid, and he just wanted to help her, show her that someone could love her how she needed. He closed the distance between them and her song softened, just low enough for him to hear. She sang only for him, calling to her one true love. Within arm’s reach, Leviathan reached out and took hold of her shoulders. Jolene cupped his cheeks and pulled him closer, and his eyes shut in anticipation.

A sharp pain stabbing through his neck broke the spell. Levi yelped as her talons dug into his skin. His eyes snapped open, and the sight of her soft face twisted into a gnarled scowl greeted him. The sheer hate in her eyes stole the words from his throat as she dragged him down into the dark abyss below them. Levi only focused on unhooking her claws from his neck. They sank deeper into his flesh, and the scent of his blood began to saturate the water around them. He grabbed both of her wrists and yanked himself free, yelping again as bits of his skin tore away. Was Jolene trying to kill him? As if to answer his question, she wrung one of her hands free and swiped her talons across his face. Reacting on instinct, Leviathan summoned the power of the ocean’s current to sweep her away. Jolene screamed as it pulled her into the abyss. Levi only wanted to put more distance between them, and he shot up to the surface and jumped through the waves as he fled to dry land. In his panic, he only realized he reached the shore when he dive bombed into the sand. He lied there, mind racing from what happened. With sore muscles, Levi pulled himself up from the ground and spat the sand from his mouth.

“Leviathan!” He heard Lucifer call out as he and Lord Diavolo ran his way. When Levi turned to them, they both froze with wide eyes. “What happened?”

“I… I found Jolene…” he said, voice shaking. “She, uh, wasn’t happy to see me. N-not like anyone is ever happy to see me-”

“What was she like?” Lord Diavolo cut him off. “Did he look human?”

Levi shook his head. “No, no she was definitely a mermaid. She sang and…” The memory of her song and the way it drew him in brought chills to his spine. As if to make up for his lack of words, Jolene’s voice rang out all around them. The three demons froze. Levi realized he had overreacted. It was just a scratch, nothing to get his panties in a bunch about! He should apologize for reacting violently and make sure she wasn’t injured. “I’M COMING, JOLENE!”

“No!” Before he could take off running, Lucifer grabbed him by the roots of his hair. Despite Levi’s protests, Lucifer and Diavolo dragged him away from his one true love.

Solomon scowled to himself as he steered the small motorboat out over the ocean. He kept reminding himself that despite the risk of being drowned, he was doing this to help Jolene. That didn’t mean he had to like it. He argued that Barbatos could do the job just as well, but they needed the angel’s blessing to protect them from Jolene’s song. Obviously, that left only Solomon.

Once he got far enough out into the ocean, he killed the engine and looked around. Without the roaring, the sound of the waves slapping against the side of the boat filled the air as he waited. Diavolo issued a temporary ban on going to the beach or in this part of the sea, ensuring that Solomon would be the only one around for miles. He let out a heavy sigh. All Solomon had to do was teleport Jolene to one of the oubliettes in the demon lord’s castle. Leviathan flooded the cell with seawater and Lucifer sealed the only trap door entrance. It was enough to keep everyone safe from Jolene as they figured out how to break her curse. Of course, none of that will work unless Solomon could lure her out to him. He knew of one way to get a mermaid’s attention.

“My heart is pierced by Cupid, I disdain all glittering gold, there is nothing can console me but my jolly sailor bold.”

His song vanished into the air, smothered by the saturation of sea water. The smell of salt filled his lungs. His boat rocked with the waves. He waited.

”His hair as white as cotton, his eyes as grey as stone, my happiness attend him wherever he may roam.”

Solomon froze. Unable to find a hold on his mind, her voice clawed at him, a vicious predator trying to break down a door. The personalized lyrics only amplified his dread. Slowly, he turned around and looked down to the water. Jolene treaded the water, staring at him with an unreadable expression. Solomon took a deep breath; he needed to cast the spell before she decided to capsize his small boat. He muttered the words quickly to open a portal behind her. Upon feeling the pull of the water as it flowed through the portal, Jolene hissed and lunged at Solomon, catching the edge of the boat in one hand. The violent rocking sent Solomon tumbling into the water. Freezing water paralyzed him until he felt the stabbing of talons into his neck. Solomon shrieked out his held breath. Without thinking, the sorcerer summoned every last bit of power within him and focused the raw, unrefined magic to his attacker. Jolene’s hold on his neck broke with a scream that only stopped when the portal consumed her and closed.

With frantic movements, Solomon clawed his way to the surface and gasped in desperate breaths once he emerged. He took a few moments to soothe his burning lungs before swimming back to the boat, thankfully still upright. Once in, he turned on the engine, thankful for the noise drowning out the waves as he returned to shore. If further help was required to rectify the situation, Solomon would gladly help from a distance.

Jolene’s song echoed from her makeshift prison through the dungeons and seeped into the lower levels of the castle. Lucifer - being strong enough to resist her call - sealed the trapdoor to the oubliette with a curse that no demon could open. Even with that protection, Diavolo forbade his staff from going anywhere near the dungeons. While the young lord had other matters to attend to, the seven brothers searched for the remedy to the situation. As it turned out, it wasn’t finding the solution that proved troublesome.

“See, it’s right here!” Mammon held up a book and pointed aggressively to one line. “‘A kiss from a loved one reverses the effects of the monster essence!’”

“Stop holding the book like that,” Satan scolded from the other side of the table. “You’re going to break the spine.”

“Yer just jealous that the Great Mammon found the answer first!” he said with a grin. “And since I’m Jolene’s first, it should be me-”

Lucifer snatched the book from Mammon’s hand. “Jolene’s first what, exactly?” With the unspoken implication shutting the second-born up, he looked over the book. “It does appear that we’ve found our solution. It should be simple from-”

“WAYAAAAAAAWAAAAAAAAAAH!” Leviathan’s wail bounced off the walls as he slammed his head into the table. “I knew it! I knew she could never love a gross otaku like me!” he whined. “I was right there, I was about to kiss her, but she just stabbed me in the neeeeeeeeck!”

“Levi, calm down,” Satan spoke up again. “That might not actually be the case.”

“MIGHT?!” he repeated with even further indignation.

“Listen!” Satan snapped at his brother’s interruption. “I’ve been reading up on mermaids. Some believe they’re the spirits of the women who were thrown into the sea because it was considered bad luck to have a woman on a ship. Now the mermaids take revenge by using their song to lure men in and drown them.” He shut his book and looked up at the others. “And I think it’s safe to assume as far as she’s concerned, we’re all men to be drowned.”

“So Jolene is not likely to let any of us kiss her,” Lucifer added, folding his arms. “Well, does anyone have any other ideas?”

After a few moments of silence, Satan spoke up again. “I think I do.”

“Thanks for being able to come so quickly,” Satan said as he drove to the demon lord’s castle.

“Mmm, I’m more curious about why you need my help.” Thirteen sat in the passenger seat, fiddling with the air conditioning just to fiddle with it. “Still haven’t said I would help.

Satan let out a slow, deep breath from his nose. “Well, it’s about Jolene. She needs some help getting back to normal.” After a brief explanation, the reaper burst out laughing.

“Oh man, that’s hilarious!” She wiped an exaggerated tear from her eyes. “You guys are really shit out of luck on this one, right?”

“Well, you know the situation now. Are you going to help?” he asked, briefly looking her way.

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” Even as Satan looked away, Thirteen focused on keeping herself nonchalant. She’d cleaned up her fair share of shipwrecks, and the few mermaids she saw never paid her any mind, the mermaid thing wasn’t the problem. Breaking the curse involved a kiss from a loved one, but what if it didn’t work? What if this was how Thirteen found out that she cared for Jolene more than Jolene cared for her? The thought sickened her. To soothe herself, Thirteen turned to the window controls and rolled the window down and up and down and up and down, wondering how long it would take until Satan snapped at her.

Thirteen stood at the edge of the trapdoor. The seal only affected demons, she wouldn’t have a problem opening it. She almost didn’t want to try and instead run off back to her old ways where she wasn’t bound to anyone. The only thing keeping Thirteen in place was the sound of Jolene’s voice coming from below. The mermaid’s song had no magical effect on the reaper, but Jolene’s certainly did. That stupid, squishy squishy human had an iron grip on Thirteen’s stone heart. The only thing worse than learning Jolene really didn’t care for her was the thought of her being stuck in that dark cell forever. Thirteen lifted the trap door and let it fall open with a loud thud on the stone floor. Jolene’s singing stopped, filling the dungeon with an eerie silence.

“Hey, Jo, you in there?” Thirteen peered into the oubliette. What little light reached the water bounced off and reflected against the stone walls. After a moment, Jolene emerged from the water and looked up at her. Thirteen couldn’t help but smile. “There you are. What are you doing in a place like this?”

Jolene only stared up at her, not saying anything. Thirteen didn’t expect a response, and since the oubliette was so deep, there wouldn’t be any kissing unless she went in. After taking off her boots and untying the jacket around her hips, she used the rope ladder to climb down. The light from the dungeon seemed brighter as she descended further into the stone abyss. Maybe she should trap that sham of a sorcerer in here with Sherry the Blue Shark. Once her foot hit the top of the water, Thirteen let go and jumped in.

“Oh this is disgusting!” she yelled. The water was murky from the dirt and grime of the prison. “I can’t believe they’re making you live like this!”

Jolene giggled, a small sound that barely sounded over the lapping water. Thirteen found herself grinning back. How was that smile so damn infectious, even more than that one plague she had to clean up? Slowly, Thirteen swam closer, closing the distance between them.

“C’mon, you want to get out of here, right?” she said, keeping her voice soft. “The two of us can go get some sweets from Madame Scream’s and go to that spot by the lake? I got a better picnic blanket so the rocks won’t dig into your back.” They inched closer. The water swirled around her legs as Jolene’s powerful tail kept her afloat. Gently, Thirteen cupped her cheek and when Jolene didn’t pull away, she leaned in for a kiss. Their lips met. Just like every time before, the world felt a bit warmer, a bit brighter. The push of the water weakened, only stirred by Jolene’s legs. When they pulled apart, Jolene blinked and looked around.

“What… what the fuck…”

Thirteen couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ll fill you in later. C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

#my writings #mcs

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leeragnvindr · 1 year ago

Text

—

Ticking wall clock. Footsteps were heard down the corridor, the door creaked and the silence was interrupted by a low voice of a man. A strict suit, shoes and a leather bag on his shoulder. Looking at the incoming manager, the guy put down the phone nervously rubbing the pen in different directions.

- Hanma, are you finished?, — the man went to the desk and took a couple of papers from it. He added, — I hope you've done the right thing and I don't have to redo your work for you. That would be a shame, there's enough to do.

- Good evening, Mr Haitani, yes, that's right. Just as you ordered, without a single slip. I've spent hours on them and it would be a shame if I had to redo them. It's well past eight o'clock in the evening and I want to go home.

Hanma's voice was a little higher, for the man himself was only twenty-five years old. A brief conversation and there was silence again. A click of the pen cap and the younger man rose from his chair. Going to the panoramic windows he carefully made sure that the manager's car had left and taking the spare keys to Rana's office he went there. Calmly walking through the corridors, Hanma met a few maids and wished them a good rest. A dark oak door, a click and here the brunet was already inside. Smelling the expensive cologne, he immediately threw off his jacket and went to the wardrobe where the manager's things were. Even though this man is over forty years old, he still looks twenty-five, leads an active lifestyle, eats right, goes to the gym and loves to cook. All these qualities and marks swirled around in Hanma's mind without giving her peace of mind. Her clothes became tight, her body sweated and became a little clammy. Removing his jacket, which he threw on the sofa, he took off his trousers, shirt and socks. The window was ajar and the cold air was blowing over his body, giving him thousands of goosebumps. Diving into the wardrobe again, the guy lowered himself down and, like a junkie, inhaled the odour of the groin area. Clutching his leg a little and mooing quietly, the man stopped thinking at all. After a little while he was already standing completely naked, panting in the odours, but the whole high was interrupted by the click of the keyhole. Finishing his dirty business, Hanma quickly grabbed his things and closed the wardrobe standing in it. The boy decided to buryhimself in some of Rana's things so that he wouldn't be immediately noticed. The door clicked again and heavy footsteps sounded. Holding his breath, he prayed that he wouldn't be found or suspected. The desk lamp switched on in the office, and then the man began rustling papers in the drawer.

- God..., — Shuji whispered quietly, biting his trousers with his teeth. It was getting hot and stuffy in the wardrobe, and he wanted to get out of it so he wouldn't suffocate. The rustling continued. Sometimes Haitani walked past the wardrobe as if looking for something. The footsteps made the boy tense, and he closed his eyes and kept reciting all the prayers he had learnt over the years in the village. After some more time the light went out and the cupboard door opened.

- Fucking hell..., — came the sound in Hanma's head and he closed his eyes, hoping he wouldn't be noticed. Abruptly, he felt cold and scared. What if he got fired? It was an offence. He'd snuck into someone else's office, gone through God knows what he'd been doing, and now he was completely unclothed.

- and I was wondering what that strange smell was, the smell of cheap perfume. It's interesting to see you here, Shuji, — he said, still standing, hoping that he would just leave and say something tomorrow, but no, — Come on, get out. You're obviously hot in there, — The guy shook his head in denial and then he was thrown out of the wardrobe with his clothes. The brunet fell to the floor completely naked, — how interesting it is when I leave.

- Don't swear, I'll be right out, — he whispered quietly and got up with his back slightly covered.

- You've decided to satisfy yourself with perfume, haven't you? What a total pervert.

- I'm sorry, Mr Haitani.

- What a load of rubbish. Don't you have anything else to do? Although you're naked in my wardrobe right now. You waited for me to leave on purpose,— the older man sat down at the table and said,— keep masturbating.

- What?

- Masturbate, I said. Here and now, since you've already started.

The man grinned and stood up from the table, walking towards the boy with heavy steps. He slapped his cheek, leaving a red palm print. Hanma rested his hands on the floor with his head down and his clothes exposed his boner.

- What wasn't clear in what I said?

- It was clear.

- I can see it.

The toe of Haitani's shoe travelled the length of his cock and pressed the flesh against his stomach. The man hissed softly, but didn't look up. Snorting unhappily, Ran moved away from him and sat down at the table again.

- It's disgusting, it's disgusting, come on, masturbate faster,— he said, touching other people's flesh, even in shoes, was disgusting.

Hanma bit his lip and ran his hand over his swollen cock. The hairs on his intimate area tingled slightly, but it was pleasant in its own way. The boy was very embarrassed. Not only had he been caught doing something dirty, but he'd been forced to do it in front of a man Hanma would later hate.

- Well done, bitch. Keep it up.

- I'm not a bitch.

- What are you? Tell me, what are you?

- I'm a man.

- A man, bitch. Go on.

- Fuck you.

Shuji stood up and hurried towards the exit. Suddenly he was tugged by his wrist. With a quiet hiss, he spun around and was thrown back against the wall, then pinned against it. A low voice said something, then whispered, and another slap sounded. The brunet's eyes read a lot of swear words, but he kept them to himself. A smirk appeared on the man's face, the corners of his lips lifted, and Ran whispered again. A couple of seconds, and then rough fingers were around a nipple, squeezing it. A soft cry rippled through the office, and Hanma hurried to shield himself from the stranger's hand. It was painful and uncomfortable, and therefore an enemy to the body.

- Let me go.

- Oh no, the creature must stand still. And if it doesn't, I'll have to punish it.

- What are you, - he was slapped in the face again before he could finish, - enough!

- Oh, how we talk, what an insolent beast.

- I'm not a beast!

- You're lying.

- No, I'm not.

- I'll cut your tongue out.

- What a bastard you are. I'm already regretting coming here.

- Nobody told you to run in here and jerk off. You wanted to, you came here and sniffed your clothes like a fucking junkie.

- shut your mouth and let me go.

- No, bitch, I'm not gonna let you just walk away. You're a toy that was brought here for me. I have to figure out what to do with you or I'll get bored.

- Mr Haitani, let's forget all this and go around each other like ships at sea.

- In that case, I want to become an iceberg to sink you and kill your life. You will lie at the bottom like a pathetic and helpless piece of shit in this world.

- I hate you.

- believe me, it's only temporary. Then you'll lose your head and you won't be able to live a day without me. You'll suffer because I'm not around. Hanma, honey, you'll go crazy.

- What nonsense, Mr Haitani, do you know what you're talking about?

- Of course, you'll realise it later, too.

#tokyo revengers #ran haitani #hanma shuji #yaoi #fanfic

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screamingeyepress · 1 year ago

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Trick or Treat: Real Halloween Murders

Halloween has a bad rap. But, that’s not to say that there haven’t been any baddies doing bad stuff on the most badass of nights… or at least close to it. So, If you aren’t scared of ghosts and ghoulies coming through the veil on the darkest of nights, here’s a few stories that will help you fear the most terrifying of monsters… that jackass down the street.

Wrong Race, Wrong Number

Way back in the extremest of decades, the 90s, a Japanese exchange student named Yoshihiro Hattori was on his way to a Halloween party. Unfamiliar with the neighborhood, Hattori couldn’t find the right address for the party.

When he finally believed he had arrived, he knocked on the door. Receiving no response, he walked back toward his car. In an unexpected turn of events, the door of the house suddenly swung open, and Hattori, thinking he had found the right place, stated, “We are here for the party.” But there was no party to be had at that address, he was fatally shot by a man standing in the doorway.

Peairs faced charges of manslaughter, yet he invoked the “castle doctrine,” a concept whereby Americans assert the right to use deadly force to protect their homes. As a result, a jury found him not guilty.

Hattori’s father expressed his lingering grief in 2012, saying, “Sometimes I feel like he’s still in America. Someday he’ll come back home, I say to myself.”

That Girl Screwed Around With the Wrong Girl

The subsequent investigation led to the apprehension of a woman named Joan Rabel. It was revealed that Rabel had a sexual relationship with Peter’s wife, Betty.

The theory suggests that Rabel persuaded another woman, Goldyne Pizer, to carry out the murder of Peter. Both Rabel and Pizer were found guilty of second-degree murder and were given five years to life.

Eventually, both women were released. Betty, however, was never brought to trial in connection with her husband’s tragic demise.

Nun, Nun more black.

On All Halloween, 1981 Sister Tadea Benz’s lifeless body was found unclothed in a Texas convent. The fellow nuns in the convent raised an alarm as they noticed a shattered window in the communal area.

Turns out a witness saw a man, Johnny Frank Garrett, who resided across the street, fleeing from the convent the same evening. This led to Garrett’s arrest. In 1992 he was convicted and sentenced to death for the crime.

His final words before his execution have been recounted as, “I’d like to thank my family for loving me and taking care of me. The rest of the world can kiss my ass.”

Every Last One of ‘Em

In a horrifying act of violence, Liske savagely beat his older stepbrother, Derek Griffin, and his father, William Liske, to death with a hammer, finishing off his father with a gunshot. He then sexually assaulted and shot his stepmother, Susan Liske.

William Liske pleaded guilty to three counts of aggravated murder. However, the story took another dark turn when, in 2015, he was found dead in his jail cell after having taken his own life.

So Enjoy Your Evening

Enjoy the night and send out your kids, and remember one of my favorite quotes from one of my favorite horror flicks, “…it ain’t the weird ones you gotta watch out for.”

#horror #halloween #true crime #true creepy stories #real murders #Youtube

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cambion-companion · 2 years ago

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hi!! could we maybe pretty please get a drabble of aemond and female!reader taking a bath together and her taking care of his beautiful hair? just aemond being so in love and letting himself be vulnerable around his lover 🥹 (ive just envisioned him letting out his iconic 'mhm' as he's having his scalp massaged and squealed out loud he's too much for meee) thank you have a nice day!!!

HAHA just a day in the life ya know! ;) Thank you for all the wonderful prompts, my lovely Anons. I hope you like what I have concocted here.

Word Count: 1919

Masterlist here

Aemond x f!reader | soft smut | fluff | comforting him after a long day

Rain pattered on the stone walkway as you strode down the outdoor corridor, the sound of clashing swords evidence your husband still trained in the courtyard below. You drew your long woolen cloak tighter about your shivering shoulders, descending the steps already sprinkled with large raindrops. Aemond had been out here sparring with one of the poor beleaguered soldiers, the dark-haired man looking like he was about to fall on his face from exhaustion.

Looking over Aemond’s shoulder at your hurried approach, he left his guard open wide and grunted as the Targaryen prince took full advantage, his sword colliding heavily against the man’s torso.

Aemond turned to see what had drawn his opponent’s attention, his hair slipping on the leather tunic he wore. “Classic mistake, Adian, allowing a beautiful woman to distract you.”

“She is quite a lovely sight indeed.” Adian’s brown eyes roved your form, causing your lip to curl with distaste.

Aemond smacked the flat of his blade against Adian’s cheek, not gently, causing the boy to yelp and stumble back. “Furthermore, she is my wife; I will warn you just this once to avert your attentions elsewhere.”

Adian bowed to Aemond, and to you, not making eye contact as he retreated to the weapon’s table. Aemond discarded his own blunted sword before approaching you, swiftly taking you in his strong arms and placing a possessive kiss to your mouth. You tasted the sweet rainwater on his lips, pulling away to tug at his hand so that he followed you to the shelter of the Keep.

You led him all the way up to your shared bedroom, the spacious area lit from the warm glow of the large fireplace.

“I had the fire stoked, and a hot bath drawn for you. Oh!” You crossed to the nearby table as Aemond began removing his wet clothes. “I also had some hot mead and venison pie brought up from the kitchens.”

The large clawed wooden bathtub sat in the center of the room, steam emitting tantalizingly from its still water.

Aemond was fully unclothed now, his sapphire eye glittering from the light of the fire. He wrapped his arms around you, kissing your head before reaching behind you to grab a meat pie. He had draped his sodden shirt and pants, along with his leather eyepatch, to dry by the fire. He walked over to dip a finger into the water of the bath, humming in appreciation. Your eyes trailed along the taut muscles of his back, admiring his backside while biting your lip.

Aemond took the last bite of the venison pastry, licking the crumbs from his fingers. “You are the sole reason I do not catch cold after these endless days of training, my love.”

He slipped into the bathtub, groaning as the hot water enveloped his cold skin. You carried a goblet of hot drink to him. “It’s absolutely freezing outside; I don’t know why you insist on sparring so long.”

“It helps take my mind off affairs of court, which you know vex me greatly.” Aemond sipped the mead gratefully, raising a hand to squeeze your wrist with his now-warm fingers.

You unclasped your cloak, laying it to dry next to Aemond’s clothes. He watched you from the tub with interest. You returned his gaze, your eyes drinking in how regal he looked reclining against the wood at his back, the ends of his silver hair swirling with the movement of the water, his hand holding the pewter goblet over the side of the bathtub. The firelight played against his skin, accentuating the lines of his muscles, his sharp jawline, the way his curved mouth smirked as he watched you examine him.

“Take off your clothes.”

The violet of his one eye was overtaken by the dilation of his pupil as he looked you over. “Join me.”

Under his lustful scrutiny, you began pulling at the laces of your dress, until it fell in a pool at your feet. Stepping out of the heavy fabric, you undid the buttons of your shift slowly, teasing the man before you. Aemond raised his goblet to his lips again, not once taking his eye off you.

You raised the thin underdress over your head, pulling off your undergarment and stockings as well until you stood bare before him.

“Hmm.” Aemond made an admiring noise in the back of his throat, his eye roving your body.

The cool night air prickled at your skin, causing gooseflesh to erupt along your legs and arms, your nipples pebbling as you made haste to enter the warm water with your husband. The tub was big enough for you to sit across from him, your legs entangling with his own as you sank with a relieved sigh into the hot bath. Little waves lapped at your collarbone as you scooted a little toward Aemond, taking his long hair in your hands and pulling it over his shoulders so you could begin disentangling it with deft fingers.

You felt his hands roam along your waist, up to your breasts where he palmed and squeezed, rolling your pert nipples in between thumb and forefinger. “Gods you feel so good, so warm and soft.” He placed a sweet kiss to your forehead as you continued your work on his thick hair, once satisfied moving to caress his scalp.

Aemond, despite himself, yawned, his eyelids growing heavy from your administrations. Your hands flitted down to his shoulders where you massaged the tense muscles there with gentle pressure.

“Come closer, Y/N.” You felt Aemond’s arms wrap around you, pulling you onto his lap, the water splashing over the lip of the tub from your sudden movements.

Your legs curled around his torso, straddling him you felt his obvious arousal nudging against you. “Hmm.” Aemond brushed his lips against yours, his hand cupping the nape of your neck. “I want to fuck you, right here in this bath.”

“Aemond…” You voice trailed off as you felt him line himself against your entrance, slowly sinking the tip of his cock into your heated core. You let out a gasp of pleasure, arching your head back as you sunk your weight onto him, until he was fully inside. Aemond took full advantage, sucking bruising kisses to your exposed throat, guiding your hips up and down upon his cock.

The waves you were creating spilled over the edge of the tub, the sound of splashing water accompanying your increasing moans.

“You should know by now,” Aemond leaned further into you, nuzzling into your chest, “I always get what I want.”

Your hands caught in his hair as he took your nipple into his mouth, swirling his warm tongue around it, paying the same attention to the other side. You kept rocking against him, feeling your walls tighten as your pleasure mounted.

As Aemond continued to suckle at your breast, you placed sloppy kisses to his forehead, leaning your head against him, your lips parted as you felt your orgasm approaching. “Aemond I…I’m going to-” He bucked up into you suddenly, the contact causing your vision to go white.

Crying out his name, your pussy clenched around him, the intensity of your climax eliciting a groan of ecstasy from your husband as he followed you over the edge, spilling his seed deep within you. Aemond pumped his cock into you a few more times, wanting to savor the heat of your wetness a little longer as the both of you rode out the high of your love making.

He raised his head, kissing your lips gently, carding his fingers through your hair. “I will put a child in you, my wife. The idea of your belly growing round, carrying our little dragon…” He trailed off, unable to find the right words, instead conveying his emotion in the way his lips suddenly moved against yours, his tongue dipping into your mouth to taste you.

You remained tangled together like this until the water had cooled significantly. Using clean water in the buckets beside the tub, you washed each other off, lathering goatmilk soap that smelt of lavender against your pruned skin and disheveled hair.

The logs in the fireplace popped and sparked, as the two of you, now clothed in woolen nightclothes, lay facing each other on the soft mattress. You had pulled a heavy comforter over the top of you both, laying on your back as Aemond propped himself up on an elbow to look into your face. Words were of little use in moments such as these, the tender loving looks speaking more than you could convey aloud.

You rubbed your hand absentmindedly low on your abdomen, the words he’d spoken earlier echoing in your mind. Aemond, noticing your movements, leaned to press a kiss to your forehead. His eye had taken on a distant look, as though his mind was far afield in contemplation.

“In my own desires to become a father, I’ve been thinking about my own of late.” Aemond broke the comfortable silence, his voice low and soft. “I do not wish to be the kind of father he is to me.”

Your hand stilled upon your belly as your eyes flicked up to meet his own. “What kind of father will you be?”

His hand came to rest upon your body, stroking long fingers upon where your womb lay. “Not like Viserys. He has never paid me, or my siblings, any attention save to berate or threaten us. I will not make my child to feel like they are a burden, or unwanted. Because I do…I do want a child, son or daughter it matters not.”

“No words I can say will right the way you’ve been treated by your kin, Aemond.” You raised your other hand to trace along his jawline. “My heart aches for your pain, my love. You deserve so much more than what you’ve been given.”

Aemond turned his face into your light touch, kissing the tips of your fingers. “He has affection for Rhaenyra only, the daughter he named heir instead of his firstborn son. Even though Aegon has no place wearing the crown of his namesake.”

“It should be you.”

Aemond sucked in a sharp breath at your words, his hand gripping yours. “I will not lie; it has been on my mind. Tis I, after all, the only son who performs the duties expected of the firstborn.”

“You are learned in the history of your family, you care, Aemond. That is what sets you apart.”

“And yet I do not exist in the eyes of my own father, I never have. My half-sister receives all his protection, wisdom and praise. Even when she sires illegitimate children and puts them forth as heirs to the Targaryen throne…” Aemond stopped himself from continuing, trying to reign in his heating temper.

You soothed him with a kiss to his neck. “You love your family; you take pride in who you are. It is natural for you to feel this way…but perhaps with our own small family you can find some measure of comfort, my dragon.”

Aemond kissed you then, molding his lips to yours in a loving embrace, taking his time to drink you in, his breath mingling with yours as you sighed into him.

He leaned back, pulling you into his arms, running his fingers through your drying hair as you rested your head upon his chest. The crackling of the flaming logs, the beating of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest, all combined together in their own intimate lullaby. Your eyes grew heavy, feeling his touch still upon your hair as you lost yourself to a dreamless sleep.

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